Three Tow Truck Thanksgiving

A Z3 -Three Tow Truck Thanksgiving

Emmy doesn't get out much these days, and certainly not on Thanksgiving. As a New Yorker, the concept of traveling on Thanksgiving is either confined to a taxi ride across town or sorting out the holiday schedule on the trains. Else it is something we watch silly people do on the news while we pick up fully cooked turkeys and all the trimmings from Balducci's or dine at the Pierre. They are the ones stuck in that colossal set of traffic jams at the bridges and tunnels; their ribbons of red brake lights on the right side and white headlights on the left side stretch for miles out the windows of high-rise apartments on the River Drives and long Avenues, like they could be tied into bows for dressing a holiday gift, they announce the beginning of the Christmas season. Thanksgiving is a marker for the next day all the stores holiday displays are up, the tree is at Rock Center, traffic diverted uptown, and tourists descend on the city that never sleeps and always shops.
But this year, I joined the merry masses of fools to join my family in bucolic Coopersberg, Pennsylvania.
There would have been no story really, if I only drove out to Pennsylvania. The Traffic Pro did start the day by flaking out, staying dark on the way to the Holland Tunnel. It's not quite terror but certainly considerably discomforting to consider having to drive 2 hours in the freezing rain without music or travel directions or a hands-free phone. Merry Prankster that the Traffic Pro is, it glowed back to life with a sneer and a chuckle after I slapped it around a bit, and pushed a reckless series of buttons. Maybe it was just trying to remind me that I had failed to change the clock for Daylight Savings, and I wasn't really an hour late so I didn't really have to drive so fast, cursing at the dizzy holiday drivers who wandered out of the city as if it was some sort of huge art gallery and they just had to see ALL the paintings. It must also be mentioned- or admitted- that after the tank went on Reserve light before my exit, forcing me to stop for gas, Traffic Pro enticed me to continue on that sooner exit's rural highway rather that rejoining I-78 and taking the route I also printed out from Yahoo Maps. After confidently leading me down some gorgeous back roads towards my destination, it left me lost and alone in the disappearing daylight with no landmarks with an ignorant shrug and the ominous "Off Road" message. I was happy that my old version of Traffic Pro software points in the direction of my destination when I am lost, instead of the nearest road it knows as it does in the new version. So I followed it and made it to the dinner just as my family was sitting down. So that is not the story. The story is about going home after dinner.
It was probably something like 9:30 or 10:00pm when I set out in no hurry to go home. I managed all the turns to get back on I-78, noting that Traffic Pro calls Glen Road, "PA-2042" or something like that. It felt like only a few minutes before I felt the almost-familiar bumpiness that doesn't go away that is a tire gone bad on the road. While I was still traveling forward at speed the car seemed to still be mostly in my control. It was only when I changed lanes to pull off the road that I felt the car wobble. There was a shoulder, and it was right before a bridge overpass, but it wasn't safe. I'd seen cop cars on TV reality shows- or the news- with their lights flashing be demolished by oncoming traffic, confused by the lanes of traffic and not expecting a car to be at full stop even with flashing lights. I had called 911 earlier that morning to report a huge gray bin that was left in the middle lane, thinking"There but for the grace of God go I". What surprised me about all this was how daffy I had become. What should I do next? First I had to confirm I actually had a flat tire and wasn't just fooled by a bad stretch of road. In the darkness, the tires seemed fine. Unsatisfied, I pulled out the flashlight I keep in the glove box. Yep, the right rear tire was collapsed. Nice that the flashlight batteries still worked though. I called AAA, and they took it very seriously, telling me I was not in a safe place and that my call had priority. Naturally I agreed. As I was on the phone with Wanda from AAA, and really thought she was being daffy, as I had to spell "Pohatcong" several times, the State Police arrived. I was grateful for their presence, and they explained to Wanda that I was in New Jersey, not Pennsylvania as I had said. Oops. So I was pretty daffy too. The police explained that there was already a tow truck behind me having picked up another holiday traveler, that we wounded were littered along the Interstate for miles. They gave me their dispatcher's number in case I would have a problem with the AAA truck, and they lit some flares around my car.
Having flares lit around my car felt like wearing one of those paper dresses at a doctor's exam, it's better than being naked but still pathetic and vulnerable, not offering much in the way of real protection. Since I had just filled up the tank, at least I was comfy and warm running the car for heat. I was searching in the rear view mirror for the tow truck when a huge shadowy figure appeared over my left shoulder and said, "You didn't expect to see anyone here, did you?"
Hitchcock would have peed himself laughing if he had shot that scene. It was Brad from the tow truck. I must have missed seeing his enormous tow vehicle pull right up behind my car because it is so much bigger than my itty bitty buggy, I think his headlights shoot straight over the roof of my car. Since I have posted user instructions for using the spare tire on my car, and even made a little video "How To", I was pretty embarrassed at how little I remembered about the process. I was trying to help Brad in the 20 degree weather but the spare tire tray just refused to budge. He was taking apart the trunk when I handed him the Bentley manual. Finally he discovered that the tray pivots instead of pulling straight out. Now we were in business, and the woman already in Brad's hulking tow truck cab with her own pick up truck with the broken water hose applauded. No sooner did Brad apply Emmy's lug wrench to the first bolt on the tire then the wrench snapped in two.

Houston, we have a problem.
We may have had King Kong sized tow truck and a myriad of gadgets in my car: an AC powered jack, an AC powered air pressure pump, fix-a-flat, tire patch kit, Ed Bansch's Tow-Hook Wheel Carrying Ensemble- but nothing was going to turn those bolts if it didn't fit the bolt. Originally I had wanted a flat bed tow truck, but since I had a spare, why not try that first? So Brad called Tom and asked him to bring out a socket wrench kit. Brad and Stephanie- the woman with the broken pickup truck- made very pleasant companions in the cab of the tow truck. The cab of that tow truck was as large as a studio apartment in New York City- which seemed so far away now. Brad is in the National Guard and had just returned from helping Katrina victims, some members of his unit are presently serving in Iraq. Stephanie had plenty of Thanksgiving food in her tow truck and offered them to Brad since he was missing his Thanksgiving dinner. It was about that time that Tom showed up with the socket wrench. I said my goodbyes to Stephanie and Brad and forayed out again into the cold to help Tom with the spare. Our biggest task turned out to be getting a handle on the big white plastic bag that holds the wheel- and in my case the spare tire tray as well. The big white bag kept catching the wind as we tried to pry it open with mittened fingers. Finally we got the bag thing done and stuffed the big dirty wheel in the passenger seat.

By now it is about 11:30 or midnight, and Tom followed me for a mile before he took his exit. I entered the next patch of I-78, a construction zone with no shoulders and encroaching concrete barriers on either side, I heard a sound coming from the rear, and it was not a good sound. It's hard to describe, sort of a tapping at first, I thought maybe a piece of debris had lodged itself in the wheel well when I pulled off on the last shoulder. As I slowed to 20 and then 10mph there was no doubt left with the horrible grinding sound and air full of the smell of burnt rubber and metal. Unable to escape to a shoulder I put pressed on the hazard lights and prayed that the oncoming tractor trailers would figure out that the usually zippy little sports car was having trouble and hardly moving before they rammed me from behind. This is where I started to get really upset. Brad was the one to get upset when the lug wrench broke, I was numb. Apparently the lug wrenches supplied by BMW are a weak joke, prone to breaking.
I had taken Tom's card when I tipped him for service, when I reached the shoulder, I called the number and left word for him to come pick me back up. About 20 minutes later his service calls back and expressed doubt that my spare tire could really have failed, and couldn't I just pull in to the next exit where there was a truck stop. No, I can't move another inch. I barely made it to the shoulder from the road, pulled over at the first chance. It was actually a little bit safer on this shoulder because the concrete barriers kept all the traffic on the Interstate, unlikely to veer off accidentally on to the shoulder. Since I would feel a fool if there really was nothing wrong with the spare tire, I ventured out of the car to see for myself with my handy flashlight. It was a little easier because it was now around 1am and a lot less oncoming traffic to buffet me with their velocity winds.

Thus confirmed I called back the answering service and reported that the spare tire was kaput, shredded, dead, never going to return to life and to bring the flat bed tow truck or else we were going no where.
There was no point in calling my cousins back, all I was trying to do was to make it to exit 17 where there was a nice Holiday Inn and a good BMW dealership. The big question was going to be: If its just a flat tire and no damage to the car, who would have a replacement tire? My little car has a fairly unusual tire size, although I don't remember exactly what that is. So I called my friend Brent in Missouri, as he has nearly the same car, and besides, I wanted to wish him a Happy Thanksgiving and warn him about our stinky lug wrenches. Brent was a huge help, laughing and cursing at appropriate points of the story and looking up my web site to tell me what tire size I have, and checking the Tire Rack site and the Holiday Inn site for me.
I was taking notes and foraging around the car for what I might be able to use at the hotel. I found a toothbrush, some eye cream, dental floss, bottled water, cursed myself for removing the winter headgear during the summer and forgetting to replace it in the fall, and charged up my cell phone. Finally about an hour had passed before Tom returned with the flat bed tow truck. He had had to return to Pennsylvania to pick it upand then come back for me. This time I had no sense of humor and didn't bother to help or watch my car ascend to the flat bed. I just stormed out of my car and into the passenger seat of the tow truck. It was cool however to see Emmy through the window of the cab. It was an all-glass wall, and I could see her grinning at me the whole way over my shoulder. We left Emmy at the dealership and Tom dropped me off at the Holiday Inn. It was, as promised, a really nice hotel. I had gotten a reduced rate on the phone, even better than the Internet rate that Brent saw. The clerk put me on the Executive Level floor because I have a Priority number, even though he couldn't look it up. The room was clean and quiet. I made good use of all the little toiletries and was delighted to sleep in their terry robe instead of my clothes.I think my head hit the pillow around 3am. Morning let me know just how lucky I was. The other dealership I was going to take Emmy to was closed for Thanksgiving Friday and Saturday. Life went on by remote control in NYC, as the staff of my building took my deliveries and fed my cat. It took some doing to get an answer from the dealership but the bottom line good news was that I would only have to replace the one tire, as the other 3 were in good shape and the new tire was still in stock despite being discontinued, and I would have to replace not only the spare tire but also the spare tire wheel as well because the original spare tire size is no longer made by anyone. I'd also replace the crappy lug wrench and big white plastic bag that was so crucial. Another point for maintenance, they pointed out that I only had 15 pounds of pressure in each of the remaining tires. Air pressure should have been checked in April at State Inspection, but apparently I should be checking the pressure in the tires every month, and I surely had not. This explains the first blowout but not the second. More bad news, no one was going to have that tire until Tuesday. I knew it was true because I had been calling the local tire stores using the hotel yellow pages while I was waiting. I took advantage of the free hotel breakfast buffet in my clothes from the night before. Then I called a bunch of car services, picked one and paid for a nice clean ride home. I was a lot more exhausted than I thought I would be.
The strange part is that despite the exact kind of experience that I dread on Thanksgiving as a New Yorker, I find myself more serious about moving back to the suburbs and that same area of Pennsylvania. Sure, I didn't like the part about waiting on the side of the road for hours in the cold fearing for my mortal safety, but I also can't get out of my mind how beautiful those roads were that I was lost on in the morning, the good feelings I had with those strangers in the cab of the tow truck, and the closeness of family that loves me and friends who care. The problems I had were all the results of atrophy, of not using the car enough and maintaining it, not from any failure of the car itself- OK, except the lug wrench. The city has its perils as well, like standing on the street in the same freezing rain hoping for a taxi that never comes, and when it does come it either refuses to take you because its the end of his shift or some other freezing New Yorker jumps in front of you and takes your place. Yes, this year I have a lot to be thankful for, and maybe when I go back out to New Jersey this week to pick up my car I will check out real estate in the area.
Tow Truck #1 ~$40,00
Tip for Tow Truck #1 $20.00
Tow Truck #2 $36.00 and a $4.00 tip because I had to pay cash
Base Hotel Rate $91.00 plus tax, tax, tax and phone charges~ $100
New Tire ~ $170
New Spare Tire and Wheel ~ $360
New Lug Wrench ~$12
New Plastic Bag ~$3
Ride into City $158.50
Ride Back to NJ ~ $160.00
Seeing my family for Turkey Day and having friends to call... Priceless.

Moral of the story: Check your tire pressure (spare too) and buy a heavy-duty lug wrench for the car.

got stranded since November 27, 2005

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