Yet Another False Start

       First of all, I had a lovely Christmas with my family. I ate almost nothing but candy and cookies and hugged all of my family members randomly and often. After a prolonged struggle, I agreed to take the car back up with me to expand my opportunities, and I gave myself one more month to pull out all the stops, get a job, and not be a failure. I was resolved. I was hopeful. I was...

       I was two hours into my trip back home, driving along through beautiful, drifting snow, when I swerved a bit and gently spun out onto the meridian of the highway.

       In and of itself, this wasn't too bad. I took stock. Was I hurt? No. Was the car hurt? No. Had I caused any any other travelers problems? Not unless heart attacks count. I wasn't even stuck, so the only thing wrong with the picture was that I was on the grass instead of highway, and facing the wrong direction. I attempted a three point turn with high hopes.

       I got stuck perpendicular to the road. Did I mention that my phone was dead?

       K appeared, and though well meaning, accomplished nothing but a few finely crafted muddy holes beneath my tires. A policeman sailed in and, after Geico told me that "response time would be delayed," offered to call one of the tow trucks associated with the police. K went on his merry way and the officer moved on to investigate another accident, but soon enough an official-looking vehicle showed up and parked opposite me with a flashing sign telling everyone to SLOW DOWN and BE CAREFUL. We regarded each other with mirth until a state trooper arrived and corrected the placement of my companion's flares.

       When the tow truck finally emerged from the traffic, I was invited to wait in the back of the police car.

       I tried to enjoy it. Unfortunately, a life-long interest in public service and a college education in Criminal Justice is no match for crushing thought processes. (I am so stupid and everyone knows it!) The officer didn't shut the door after me, a move I am certain was calculated to avoid any legal issues involving locking a mild-mannered citizen in the back of a patrol car, but I shut myself in and told him that I trusted him to let me out. (Of course I failed! I always fail!) The back was extremely cramped, for the benefit of less mild-mannered passengers I'm sure, but it was a new sensation for me. I am a tiny person. I am never cramped. (I  am never going to accomplish anything!) I watched the tow truck drag my poor car sideways and across the highway so tense I was practically trembling. (I will not cry! I will not cry!)

       Finally, the car and I were both free and I eased back onto the road planning to call and reassure my family and then continue on my way, but I quickly discovered that my steering wheel was 45 degrees off kilter. Huh. I pulled off into a Dunkin Donuts, plugged in my phone, consulted my dad, entrenched myself in a neighboring gas station, and proceeded to call every car repair shop in three neighboring towns looking for someone who could fix my front-end suspension on a Saturday evening. Failure.

       Hours later, my dad arrived, pronounced the car drive-able and led me back to PA and the 7-days-a-week convenience of Pep Boys.

       I feel sick.

       I know this doesn't sound like much of a snafu to most people. It's annoying and expensive, sure, but not something to sink your ship. Unfortunately, my ship is held together by chewing gum and hope and is piloted by a well-meaning but apparently incompetent idiot. Getting the thing to support its own weight is hard enough without unexpected cannonballs.