Stuck on the side of the road

So I’m on the way to the office today, FPK in the navigator seat, since it’s Spring Break. About 1/3 of the way there the truck makes a little thooomp noise up front. With no further provocation, it starts acting like it’s in neutral. I try all the gears (except R, of course) and it’s not a transmission thing. I realize the engine has stalled, so I try to restart…. no go.

So we coast to a stop about midway through one of those long (1/4 mile at least) turns around a fenced community that makes for a blind turn. The speed limit here is about 45, which means everyone’s running 60, and there isn’t even a bike lane to squeeze into. We are sitting ducks in a Ford Ranger.

I call the hubby, then AAA to see if someone can come look under the hood and do whatever it takes to make it go. They’re both about 30 minutes away, minimum, so the boy and I climb out of the truck and stand on the sidewalk, watching and talking.

Can I just say how disappointing it was to live in a town this far south and have only ONE person slow down long enough to make sure we were ok? This is a busy road. I’d guess we saw between 200-250 vehicles whiz by. Several honked and made rude gestures, as if we’d simply parked there out of ignorance. But only one sweet man (in a giant pickup) stopped, made me swear someone was on the way, and then finally left with a reminder to stay safe. So, the FPK and I had a great conversation about what these actions said about individuals and our community.

Hubby arrived; FPK actually got to sit in the driver’s seat for a few minutes while hubby and I shoved the truck up the curb and out of the road. More fun than working out in the gym, I suppose, what with the added adrenaline rush of not knowing when someone might rear end our rear ends. A few minutes later AAA arrived.

Poor sick truck got hauled to the Car Hospital as the boy once called the repair shop. Turns out it’s just Mostly Dead. Miracle Max (well, Corky) is on the job. If he pulls through, we may just have to re-name the truck Westley. Usually he doesn’t make a fuss as we go places, he just starts and runs, as if to say “As you wish…”

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