Shana and I were visiting Chris and Judy in Iowa on Monday, August 19th . I needed to be at work by 1 p.m. Tuesday, so we left around 9 a.m. .
Twenty minutes into the drive we stopped for a conversation with a state trooper and I made the decision to donate funds to our government.
Unfazed, we continued down the road at a moderate pace when the right front wheel of the suburban began to make crunchy flapping noises. “It’s a flat!” Shana wailed.
To fully grasp the situation I think it’s important that you understand a few things about this suburban. Marions bought it in 2015 and a few years later Dad bought it from them. Ten years after it’s original second-hand purchase it’s age is beginning to show. Shana named it Jalopy and she faithfully causes problems. Flat tires, brake exhaustion, , and oil deficiencies are just a few of her quirks. At the time of our Iowa excursion she was wearing her spare tire and, coincidentally, this was the tire that resigned.
After parking Jalopy on the shoulder of the interstate I examined the situation and declared the tire terminally flat. Shana maintained that someone could definitely fix it. *see cover photo
I called Dad- my standard practice when encountering vehicle problems. He was three hours away, but 19 closer than the last time I made a similar call. (Nothing sucks feminism out of you faster than vehicle problems.) Dad told me to call Mom.
She discovered that we have a current AAA membership. I was not included in the membership but Mom also found that I could be added for free. She quickly added me and sent a membership card along with the membership number.
I called immediately and got an automated voice- never a good sign- that asked me several questions. I tried to reply as clearly and distinctly as possible but Shana was in the passenger seat talking to Ladon and it was too much for AAA’s robot to handle. I pushed Shana into the weeds outside and rolled up the windows (did I mention the AC doesn’t work?) to shut out as much noise as possible. The pounding on the window was getting on my nerves but eventually Shana realized she was being dramatic and water isn’t a necessity. She lay in the shade.
I spent twenty minutes listening to automated voices and finally bypassed the system to speak to a real employee. They begin every phone call with the question “Are you in a safe place?”
I would have been more convinced of their concern for my safety had I not just spent ten minutes listening to hold music.
I explained to the representative that my membership number was not being recognized by the website or their telephone robot. She asked for my name, address, number, membership number, social security number, and if there was any history of mental illness in my family.
“So it looks like you just signed up today.”
“Yes.” I was getting impatient.
“Well your membership will not be active until forty-eight hours after you sign up.”
I explained that we had a flat tire now, and had we know forty-eight hours ago this would happen we would have signed up. Apparently she couldn’t take my word for it and transferred me to a different branch where I once again heard an entire album of hold music before I talked to a person.
“Are you in a safe place?”
I relayed all my information to Cody and explained our dilemma. He was sympathetic and sweet and did absolutely nothing to help before dumping me onto the next in line.
“Are you in a safe place?”
This time I thought about my answer. Cars and semis were flying past as I sat smoldering in a white suburban with a flat tire and no AC. Sweat streamed down my face as I yelled into a dying iPhone while an angry, dehydrated Mennonite girl circling the car trying to find a way to get to me.
“Yes,” I lied.
One hour and 150 dollars later the “free service” AAA company assured me that they would be sending help. Shana and I resigned ourselves to waiting. Thirty minutes passed.
Ladon called and asked what town we were closest to but he tends to be interested in information of any kind so I didn’t think much of it.
Five minutes passed when my phone started ringing. “Hello, are you Ladon’s sister?”
“Um, yeah,” The voice was completely unfamiliar but he didn’t associate himself with AAA so I assumed it was safe.
“I’m from a towing company in Fairfield, Iowa. Your brother said you needed a tow?”
Apparently Ladon had told him about two teenage sisters in dire straights that needed urgent assistance. .
I had just finished a scathing review about the incompetence that is AAA when a big tow truck pulled up. I quickly sent the message to Mom and got out to talk to the guy. I have no experience talking to tow truck people. Do I introduce myself, explain what happened, ask him his favorite color, or forget all social skills and awkwardly stand beside my support animal, Shana.
I awkwardly stood next to Shana. The man strode up and addressed me, “I’ll drive it up onto the truck.” I nodded and removed the keys from the car and put them in my purse.
“Umm, ma’am the keys.”
Shana and I stood back and watched as TTG (tow truck guy) loaded Jalopy onto the truck and motioned for us to get into the single cab.
I reached the door first and politely held the door for Shana, realizing whoever got in last would not get to sit directly next to TTG. Shana vehemently refused and I found myself wedged in the middle, the clutch digging into my leg.
We chatted lightly for a good thirty seconds and sat awkwardly for a bad five minutes. Upon reaching the tire shop, Shana and I followed TTG like lost puppies and he deposited us into a stereotypical tire shop waiting room. I found a dusty chair to sit on and Shana desperately looked for liquid. Not seeing the obvious water dispenser behind a pile of reflective jackets she threatened to leave me stranded and search for greener pastures or, in this case, golden arches. I quickly vetoed that idea in not-so-friendly terms and she obediently drank the dusty dispenser water.
Two other people were waiting on a vehicle as well. We learned that John had recently injured his car and quite shamelessly explained Jane was there to blow into his breathalyzer as he had a few too many the night before.
Eventually Shana and I decided that we were hungry and would walk somewhere for lunch. John offered to drop us off at a diner a mile or two down the road but I politely refused. Clearly God had been protecting us, but it was unclear if that protection extended to hungover John.
Our phones told us that we had options and Shana suggested a diner half a mile away.
Upon reaching the cafe we headed directly to the restrooms. One of the stalls was in use and Shana took the one remaining. The occupant must have heard us come in and lots of shuffling occurred before a young waitress rushed out. I already had my fill of awkward that day so tried not to make eye contactas she fled.
The door slammed. “Carole?” Shana sounded on the verge of hysteria. “Did she throw the straws away?”
Seeing my blank look she explained to me that during the loud shuffling a bunch of straws fell onto the bathroom floor. She quickly swooped them up and fled the restroom, without even so much as a glance at the soap and water in the sink.
As one could imagine, the floor was not clean. Wanting to believe the best about the girl I checked the trash cans to make sure she hadn’t tossed them in and Shana’s horrified eye hadn’t caught it. it. The trash cans were strawless. .
We discussed our options-
A. Flee the building
B. Scrub our hands then flee the building.
We chose B with no regrets and found a Subway nearby. Subway was clean. Subway wore gloves. Subway didn’t handle my straws. Subway never went to the bathroom or got DUI’s. Subway was paradise.
We got home the same day, much to our relief. It was six hours later than planned but it could have sixteen. We were $500 poorer but it could have been- no, I’m still angry about that. I called the company a few days later and they refunded half of what I paid. As much as they stressed safety, I would much sooner place my life in the hands of Hungover John than anyone associated with AAA.
The Write Perspective 
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