Our story begins mere days before Thanksgiving, when Bossy answered an ad on Craig’s list for a dining room table:
As Undivorced Bossy begins life anew in her own apartment, she did what any fiercely independent Unwife would do when faced with the problem of transporting a table from a neighborhood known as The Other Side Of Creation: Bossy asked her Unhusband for help.
This is how Bossy and her Unhusband found themselves borrowing a minivan one cold November night:
So there was Bossy, driving, due to a preexisting medical condition known as Control Freak, when suddenly Bossy heard a disturbing rumble. No sooner had she pointed this sound out to her Unhusband when Bossy lost control of the minivan’s steering. And then the minivan’s brakes. And then the minivan.
Of course when this happened, Bossy was cruising in the passing lane. During rush hour.
The first thing Bossy did was wrestle the alligator that was the minivan careening off the road. It quickly became apparent the problem was a flat tire.
The next problem was no decent place to pull over on the left-hand side. So Bossy’s Unhusband hung his head out the passenger window and begged the borrowed minivan over two lanes to the right:
Once the minivan had safely navigated to the right side of the road, the next problem emerged: there was no safe place to pull-over there either.
So Bossy came to a stop in a stingy slice of the road’s shoulder as the rush of cars passed inches from her driver’s side door.
But before the minivan had come to a complete stop, Bossy’s Unhusband was already on the phone calling for roadside assistance. Knowing many fatal accidents occur because cars in the shoulder of the road are hit, Bossy and her Unhusband decided to slither out of the passenger side door and scramble down the steep embankment overgrown with weeds and broken bottles:
Once Bossy and her Unhusband were a still unsafe distance from the car, Bossy asked her Unhusband how long AAA estimated it would take for their arrival.
This is when Bossy found out her Unhusband hadn’t dialed AAA at all, but rather 911:
You see, Bossy’s Unhusband knew what few people know: the Department of Transportation in most states is better equipped for a highway emergency than a roadside assistance club.
And within a thankfully short amount of time, Bossy’s own personal Department of Transportation, PennDOT, arrived with their flashing lights and steely tow truck to guard the borrowed minivan from the stream of traffic.
And then the PennDOT guy threw his body down in the busy lane next to the borrowed minivan in order to change the front driver’s-side tire. And he did all this for free.
In closing: the very next time your tire blows while in the passing lane on the way to pick up a pedestal table during evening rush hour with no safe place to pull over, consider dialing 911 first.
They’ll best direct your call.
Bossy now returns you to your hopefully safe happy lives.
Whew, Bossy! Good call by your unhusband. The battery on our Honda Accord died at the airport’s cell phone lot on Thanksgiving morning. (I didn’t realize my d/h had the lights on when I slipped into the driver’s seat when got out to meet dd’s plane. Argh.) Fortunately, a young man with his own dead battery and a friendly airport police officer told me the Motorist Assist truck would show up shortly, and I didn’t need to bother AAA. What a relief!
–>Good to know. The last time I had a flat I was driving with my very sexy looking friend. So we just lingered out behind the car until SEVERAL cars stopped to help us stranded females. Her boob job paid off.
Whew, and I’d say he’s an a-okay pretty smart guy all rolled into one unhusband!
Thank gah for bossy’s unhusband and the DOT and for bossy not panicking and flipping the minivan.
I broke up with AAA after I found out that I have free roadside assistance on my car insurance.
YIKES. Glad Bossy’s unhubby has a persuasive hand and a smart phone finger… all of which now sounds slightly obscene. I remember getting a flat on the fast lane of I-40 in Albuquerque and having to change the tire on the left shoulder. An as Bossy already knows, even when there ARE left shoulders, they’re barely wide enough for a shoulder pad, let alone a car or some fool with a jack (and his ass hanging out in the lane). Read as: jackass = me.
Glad all ended well.
Must be going around. I had a blow out on I95 during rush hour a few weeks ago. Luckily was in the right lane, and I called a tow truck which arrived in 20 minutes. Good service!
Dude. Good job, both of you.
Dialed the MA State Police from your very position. Were there in 2 minutes saving yours truly from what I saw as death by breakdown lane.
So, what happened with the table?
Glad Bossy is okay.
Blown tires, one of my semi irrational fears. Any little vibration in the road which cumlminates in the car shaking even ever so slightly puts me in a panic. This comes after one harrowing year where 3 of my tires blew (not at the same time) on the busy Phoenix I-10 in rush hour and I had to keep the car from crashing AND limp it to a safe place. GAH
blah, blah, blah, blown tire – is it just me or does the table oddly resemble a penis about to enter an orifice???
@ Bossy’s friend Amy; either that’s a verry small penis, or that’s a verry large orifice!
Bossy, I’m a local contractor and would be happy to help you picking up such things if you wish.
Glad it all turned out okay, and you and your unhusband are still alive!
Good tip, too. I’ll remember that, as I have AAA on speed dial.
Yes, what happened to the table? And why couldn’t brother help instead of unhusband if you were using his vehicle anyway?
Maybe he shouldn’t be Un.
Oh gah. you were on the “SureKill Expressway”, weren’t you?
yeah, what’s with PennDot closing down lanes of traffic during rush hour anyway? Dum!
Did Tom just hit on you? Maybe it just seemed that way.
Glad to see Bossy made it out in fine fettle and out of the nettles, too. Glad the unhub is so smart. Great story and a cautionary one to boot.
I definitely wouldn’t have thought to call 911. Good call!
I have often feared such happening to me on the Sure-Kill. That or one of the rocks deciding that NOW is the time to let go.
I am totally going to use this trick the next time I’m driving with the unwife. Hopefully, that will be never, but I will look really smart…something that never happened before I was the unhusband 🙂 lol
I empathize. Glad experience, intelligence and luck saw you safely through.
Six years ago we were on our way out to the suburbs in our musician van (ancient Ford Econoline with no air conditioning), and were high on the five level mess that is the infamous Spaghetti Junction of Atlanta when we heard a loud pop in the vicinity of the engine, and the van proceeded to stop. We were in the left lane and there was no going anywhere but onto the left sliver of no shoulder from where we stared in horror way down at ground level, wondering if we would meet it via being rear ended by one of the mack trucks passing every few seconds. We called 911 and, despite the fact we knew many fatalities happen with cars stranded on the side of the road, we stayed right where we were as there was no way to walk off, no way out. Every vehicle that passed honked loud and long, as if believing we had chosen to use that scenic overlook as a rest stop. During the fifteen minutes we waited for a police officer, I managed to convince my young son, sitting in the back, that this was a great adventure. Finally, the officer arrived, parked behind us, blue lights pulsing the twilight, and sat back to wait fifteen more minutes for the tow truck to arrive. And that’s how to have a very scary Halloween.
Don’t know what kind of Honda your musician brother has, but we fairly soon thereafter moved over to the Element. A pity they have stopped making them. Best musician vehicle in the world for carrying personal gear.
Wow. Bossy’s unhusband did a great job.
Bossy, I’m a local contractor and am very happy with my very small penis. It’s like the size of a finishing nail.
Harrowing. And not just the table. But mostly the table.
SK
“due to a preexisting medical condition known as Control Freak,”
It’s very hard to read about a near death experience and be totally scared when SOMEONE writes things like that.
Thank you, Bossy. I will remember this information. But this leads me to think about some radio ads I’ve heard lately here in Salt Lake City that remind Utahns to dial 911 only if there is “death, dismemberment, immediate danger..” or something like that. I’m hoping tire blow-outs fall into one of these categories, cause I’m too cheap for AAA.
So if I’m running out of mayonnaise I shouldn’t call 911? What number should I call then?
I’ve got a preexisting condition for ya right here. It’s called “I’m out of control in love with mayo”
Olivia agrees with Tom and Bossy’s friend Amy – there is something faintly pornographic about that table – but then, those Scandinavians are a rather liberated lot anyway.
Wishing Bossy and all her readers a Happy Holiday Season.
Bossy, do you still blog?
I have a phobia about dialing 911. Honestly, I have dreams about it! So, I’m sure I’d be reluctant to call for fear of getting yelled at.
Glad it all worked out.