jaimebourne.com

This entry promises to be rather amusing - if you can get past the length and the fact that it’s basically a “what I did today” type of entry. Stick with me. I promise you’ll laugh. Giggle at least.

I was super tired this morning. I woke up very late. I was late for work. It took my until at least nine thirty to be ready to do any work. At that time I was informed that this huge order had just arrived - 42 pages of itty bitty things that take forever to check in. I jumped at the opportunity for a few hours of peace and quiet, pulled a floor associate for assistance, and headed to the back of the store to work on it.

Skipping ahead, I decided since I was feeling so bluey grey that I would go get my nails done after work. Five oclock came and I left. Five is quitting time for me. My boss who had by then returned from his meeting and was forced to stay to close the store, muttered some snide remarks about my leaving him. I smiled and walked out the door. He doesn’t have to know that the only reason I walked out AT five was so that I could get my nails done before the nail place closed.

If I’ve forgotten to mention it, I live like 20 miles from where I work. The stretch of land between my apartment and work is comprised of this brand new highway that digs through the mountains. It’s a very pretty drive. I was driving home, looking forward to the manicure experience, lost in my thoughts of how awful life gets, when I spotted a car stalled on the side of the highway. Thinking that it was pulled off to the side of the road, I failed to slow down. Stupid me. Apparently the shoulder on the left side of the highway is very small and made only for stalled motorcycles. It wasn’t until I was almost next to this car that I realized I needed to swerve to avoid hitting it.

So I swerve carefully and kept from hitting any cars. As I passed Mr. StalledGuy I glanced quickly at him, realizing that he’s one of my good friends. The kind of friend you consider family. I drive past thinking to myself, “hey, that’s George.” I was driving too fast to stop. This highway that I’m on has no turn around - you gotta drive all the way to the end and get off and get back on to get back to where he was. Of course I only *think* it looks like George. I’m not all that sure. So I’m driving past telling myself that he has a phone and he knows to call for help. Debating with myself in my mind, I decide to call his brother for the phone number so I can make sure he’s ok. I’m hoping it’s not really him and I’m worried over nothing.

I get in touch with the brother, Bob. Bob seems to think it’s not George. The clothing description doesn’t fit. But the car sounds the same. And George doesn’t have a phone anymore so we didn’t really have a way to figure out if it was him or not.

I decided to turn around. I’m almost out of gas. I was going to get gas on the way to the nail salon. But now I’m distracted by the stalled car and hoping to God that no one hits it. The drive back was the longest trek up the highway ever. The whole way I’m thinking “I hope it’s not him,” “I hope the cars are slowing down and not hitting him,” “I hope he doesn’t go walking down the highway for help.”

I have to drive all the way back to the other end of the highway and turn around again to get to the correct side that he’s on. Driving back up I pass him again. I get a clearer view of the driver. It’s George. I start to panic a bit because I can see how worried he is over the highway wall. But no, I tell myself to keep calm and not crash my own car on the way. Bob calls back asking if it really is him. I confirm for the worried brother. (it was his brother’s car.)

So finally I get to the correct side, correct direction, see the car, and pull up behind it. I’ve never seen a more relieved look on a person. Someone had just stopped to drive him to the next town for a phone. He saw me and told the car they could go. I just made it - he was about to leave.

He said they were having battery problems with the car. It had been in and out of the shop. He wanted to try jumping it. In order for that to happen I had to get the hood of my car closer to the hood of his car. I had to flip my car around facing the wrong way on a one way highway. Tricky.

We waited for the traffic to subside and I did this hugely scary and illegal maneuver on the highway, turning my car around so the two were kissing. I then got out and started to direct traffic, attempting to get cars to move into the far lane. There I was in my stupid work uniform, trying to wave all these fast cars into the slow lane. I hope no one saw me. (The coke vendor that services the place I work at saw me. So much for incognito.)

A nice man on a motorcycle stopped and came to help me. He told me I was standing too close to the cars - so I moved up. He was cool and ran up to the call box to call for police assistance. We needed someone official looking to block the lane. While the guy was running up to the call box, another nice man stopped. He stopped with his car in the middle of the lane - and directed traffic himself. I am so thankful for these two anonymous guys.

While the biker and the van man are busy directing traffic, I run back to my car. George has the jumper cables hooked up and needed me to start my car. Mind you I still have very very little gas. At first it doesn’t start. I was ready to cry. All we need is two cars stuck on this stupid highway. But no finally it starts up. The other car won’t take the charge.

For nothing my car is flipped on the highway. So then the cop gets there. Just in time, I might add. After the charger failed I don’t think either of us knew quite what to do. He tells us he will stop the traffic and we can move the two cars to the other side. George tells me to get into his car - since it won’t start he wants me to steer so he can push. But first we have to move my car out of the way.

George gets into my car. The hood was still up so the policeman tries to put it down. He forgot one important thing - you have to take the little support rod out of the hood to drop it! I’m sitting in George’s car watching this guy force the hood down. George and I are both staring. Then the guy lifts the hood up, realizing that it wasn’t going to close, looks inside for obstructions, and smashes it down again. I could see the rod all bent and mangled. George pushed the guy away and looked at it. He looked at me as if to say, “Did you just see what he did?!”

George had a bit of a problem with my car, being that it’s a stick-shift, but eventually he got it to the other side of the highway. Then it was my turn to maneuver the stalled car over to the other side. It was much safer on the right side - the shoulder was large enough for us to not be half as nervous. Plus there was a metal guardrail thing that we could stand behind.

The cop tried to play it off. He said Geroge broke it off. The only reason he broke it is because it wouldn’t close because the stupid arm was all mangled due to the cop’s forcing the hood down. Not only is the support rod broken and bent - there’s a huge crinkly dent in the hood of my car! The cop told me I have to claim it on insurance. Screw that - I think it’s something I have to take up with someone other than my insurance.

George’s dad called us a tow truck - one of his friends. It took about an hour and a half, but finally he came. It wasn’t the battery. There was no oil. He killed his engine. Word to the wise: CHECK YOUR OIL REGULARLY!

My car looks awful.