Did you ever have one of those rough weeks capped off by a weekend so trying, you had to shake your head and wonder what was going on?
The plan was for us to leave early Sunday afternoon with Amina to head up to New Jersey for grandmom’s funeral. We were a little iffy on taking Amina on a trip so shortly after her heartworm treatment late last week, but figured it would still be a pretty mellow trip for her and that she’d get the rest she needed.
Unfortunately, Amina had some bad reactions to the heartworm treatment (did you know it’s arsenic-based? Scary.) and vomited a number of times on Sunday morning. She also hadn’t eaten since we got her home on Saturday and barely ate while she was at the vet’s on Thursday and Friday. At this point, it became clear she wouldn’t be up for travelling, so we made the tough decision that Huyen would stay home with her and I’d go up to the funeral on Sunday, returning home on Monday night. Before I left, though, we took her to the emergency vet and she was put on some medication and subcutaneous hydration which had her literally leaking fluids from her skin (that was kind of cool, actually). It was clear Amina wasn’t herself, but the vet felt she’d be OK with some rest and a few more anti-nausea meds.
I got on the road at about 4pm, three or four hours later than originally planned. It would get me to my grandmom’s house about 9ish, but still giving me enough time to chat with family and help write her eulogy.
30 miles from home, I hit heavy, heavy traffic on route 70 eastbound in Maryland. I called home to Huyen and as I talked to her, I saw my “Check Engine” light come on and my engine start smoking.
Good God.
I pull off to the side of the road–the left shoulder, onto the grass median, because a bunch of idiots are taking up the right shoulder trying to get to their exit–and call the Better World Club (aka the Green AAA) for a tow. Sure, it may have been some simple engine overheating, but I wasn’t going to drive 10 hours over a two day period with my check engine light on. The dispatcher tells me it’ll be about an hour because the tow guy that’s coming is the one that’s clearing up the accident about a mile ahead, the accident that’s causing the traffic jam, the traffic jam that I was sitting in when my engine overheated.
An hour and 20 minutes later, no tow guy. Traffic’s still jammed. I call BWC and they tell me the driver’s been delayed at the scene and it’ll be another 15 minutes or so. Another 30 minutes later, two hours after my original call, he finally shows up to tow me home. Why home? Because it’s Sunday night and there are no nearby service stations open.
The ride back with the tow truck guy was actually the highlight of the day. We discussed the accident that held up traffic and killed my car (a woman in a Chevy Blazer rode up onto the grass, overcompensated, and flipped the vehicle over, ejecting her two unbuckled kids from the car… the woman and one of her kids had to be airlifted to the hospital.). We discussed some of the awful things that he’s seen as a tow truck driver (best/worst story: they were called to a scene and were told that a victim was in the car but they looked and looked and looked and couldn’t find her… turns out the accident was so horrible, she was literally crumpled up under the dashboard and took over three hours to be extricated). We discussed why AAA sucks for tow companies (companies make very little money from AAA tows) and why the Better World Club treats tow drivers much better. And we discussed how much a tow truck driver can make in a weekend (50% of profits for a good driver, in the $1000-1500 range on an average weekend with long hours).
The tow truck driver also provided two wonderful pieces of irony.
- He told me about his work as a volunteer firefighter. As he spun a tale about having to see dead bodies that have been burnt to a crisp in house fires, he lit a cigarette while driving with his elbows.
- He told someone from his company (dispatcher? owner?) about the Blazer accident. As he said, “And those idiots weren’t buckled up,” I glanced over and noticed that his buckle wasn’t fastened, again while driving with his elbows.
I got home after 7. To add to the fun, because it’s Sunday night, renting a car requires a trip all the way to Dulles Airport. That’s what I did.
By a little before 11pm, I was back on the road, exhausted but determined.
Five minutes later, the downpours began. They continued off and on throughout my trip. I arrived a little after 3am and collapsed on the couch, listening to the rain hit the roof, the roof of my grandmom’s house, the house that was filled with an eerie emptiness without her there.
Fortunately, the remainder of the weekend went off without incident. Quite a few people showed up for the funeral, including friends of the family and relatives from my dad’s side of the family. That’s something that really means a lot, to see people who aren’t even related, but who come to pay their respects and show support.
Grandmom will be missed deeply. Now begins the long process of getting used to life without someone who’s meant so much to us.