Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The bad news is several hair raising moments spent at the wheel of a vehicle after the right rear tire had blown out.
I was driving home from a wonderful gathering of dear friends, enjoying the ride and thinking how lucky I was for those same friends.
The noise was sudden, the off-putting sensation from the right rear quarter of the car equally so; an increasingly loud series of puck-puck-pucks.
Something happens in the brain when trouble is afoot, a deep-seated all points bulletin. Don't hit the brakes! Steer in the same direction! Don't hit the brakes! Snap on the four way flashers! Don't hit the brakes! Stay clear of the steel guardrail! Don't hit the brakes! Slow down, slow down, slow down and stop on the grassy side strip.
Fortunately, a State Police trooper had noticed me and out of nowhere, it seemed, he was right behind my car, blue lights flashing. I was out of the car and safely away from the vehicle as my knees turned to the same mushy rubber consistency that was now the wheel of my car.
What followed was the usual, a tow truck, the tire was changed, and I drove home shaken and stirred. But a few someones were watching out for me that evening.
Amen, and pass the thank yous.