Off to Music City!

I’m road-tripping this weekend to Nashville, TN, one of my favorite places! Me and two other girls are heading to the Convent of St. Cecilia for a retreat with the lovely Nashville Dominicans. We’ll be leaving tomorrow after 7 AM Mass, and heading back on Sunday.

I will surely have photos and stories to tell once I’m back!

If you have any prayer requests, add ’em to the combox. Of course I’ll pray for all of you anyway, even if you don’t have something special. 🙂

 

Adventures in Driving (Part II)

We last saw our heroine anxiously awaiting a AAA truck on the side of 70E bound, hoping her car did not get hit, smashed, or any strangers appear to proposition her…and behold, there was a flashing of light…

S o the AAA guy arrives, and he says, “I thought you had an Accord.” (Dad must have gotten our cars mixed up. Ooops. We have two Accords, two Civics, and 1 Prelude—that’s dad’s man car.) Anyway. We pry the spare out of the trunk.

“So where’s the bolt?”

The what?

Apparently, the person before me liked to fancy up his car, so he had special hubcaps put on. I don’t really mind them. But this means that to get the hubcap off, there must be a special bolt.

It is not in my trunk. (The whole time I’m thinking, I must clean out my trunk, I must clean out my trunk…).

“Maybe it’s in the glove box.” The AAA guy said. He was a big, brawny guy, about my dad’s age, and I could tell he was thinking, Does this girl know anything about cars? I wanted to tell him, yes, I do, I can change spark plugs! But I didn’t.

Glove box? Where are we, England? But yes, it was in the very bottom of the compartment. I handed it over triumphantly, then perched myself on the guard rail and watched him jack up my car and change the tire, all the while thinking of Ralphie and his dad in A Christmas Story. 

He got the spare (AKA, “doughnut”) on, and dropped the huge and deflated tire and rim into my trunk. “DO NOT go over 50 MPH, or you could blow it out,” he said. (I knew that, having read the owners’ manual while I waited.)

So I thanked him, got back in my car, and merged into traffic—going 45 mph.

I knew this wasn’t going to work. So instead of creating road rage incidences on 70, I decided to take a side road—Livingston Ave.

Now Livingston is not in the best part of town, for the most part. It runs by Children’s, and it runs past Capital (my alma mater) and would take me back to Reynoldsburg. But it wasn’t a place I wanted to be at almost midnight.

But my car and I creeped along, going about 35-40. There were entirely too many people out for my taste—It’s midnight! go to bed!

Finally I pulled into my parents’ driveway, where my dad gave me the keys to the other Civic and I drove home. He took my car to Firestone this morning (at 6:30, I have an awesome father) and the new tire was on before my work day had even started. Joy!

Went there post-work, picked it up, and drove it back here. So I am happy to have my car back. And extremely tired. And I do not want any more car adventures.

But I will definitely renew my AAA membership.

Adventures in Driving (Part I)

So tonight I was in Hilliard for Ragtime rehearsal. We worked on the Act II opener and some of “Atlantic City”, then the women were dismissed to head to the after-rehearsal get together at a local watering hole, while the men rehearsed “What A Game!” (AKA The Baseball Number). Good food, good times at the watering hole. Around 10:10, a few of us leave to go home. I am tired. It was a long day. I want my bed.

So I’m on 70 E, and I feel a strange thump thump thump on the right side. For a moment, I think it’s the pavement, but just as quickly that thought is dismissed, because I drive this stretch so often that I know every bit of it. Second thought—flat tire.

This is not a good place for this to happen. I’m heading into the Cooper Stadium Curve, which is where 315, 70, and 71 all merge together and then sort themselves back out. It is NOT a nice, calm place. And there is no good place to pull off until you’re past this Scylla and Charybdis. Lovely.

So I pull off to the shoulder and try not to get killed as cars whiz past. My lights are on, and my flashers, so you think there would be some moving over to the center lane, since no one is out, but no. Sigh.

Go to check tires. Yup, the right front one is deflating and Very, Very, Very hot, so I can’t touch it to see what’s wrong.  I am remarkably calm, and call AAA.

Now, you can guess where this is going to go.

Of course, I can’t understand the AAA person. I try. I explain the CI. And still nothing. GAH.

So I call the parents, and have them call the AAA people. Around 10:30 Dad tells me they will be arriving shortly.

So I sit in my car. And wait. And try not to get killed, crushed, or to fall asleep.

Finally, a little after 11, I see the flashing beacons of hope from the AAA truck. But of course, nothing is easy…

Part Two tomorrow…because it’s 12:30 and I need to sleep. The only reason I’m awake is because I had to medicate (lovely) and I’m starving. Apparently I didn’t eat enough at the watering hole. And no, at the watering hole all I had to drink was water. I don’t drink alcohol as a matter of course. Just for the record. (And yeah, the anti-rejection meds have something to do with that. The other part is, aside from the very occassional pint of Guinness,  and an even rarer glass of wine, I do not like alcohol. Full stop.