It all started Friday night. Husband had been to a funeral--never fun--and was stressed out. For relief, we decided to go see Guardians of the Galaxy (yay!). We were traveling up an on ramp and I heard a noise. I decided to ignore it. Turns out, we had a flat.
My mom saved the day by coming to lend us her jack. It took a little while to change the tire, but husband successfully got the spare on. We proceeded to the movie theater in time to be highly amused by the movie. We went home. I forgot to call my mom and tell her we made it home okay, but we did and I spoke to her Saturday, so it's all good.
Saturday was the Shepherd Super Summer Cruise. You will frequently hear me refer to this as the Midnight Run, because that's what we called it when I was younger. Since it's supposed to start at midnight and all (it never does). We went down to my in-laws' and got the not so flat tire that went flat Friday evening repaired. Turns out the valve stem had a big crack in it. The tire was fine, yay. We had dinner, got Krispy Kreme (that's TM, right?), and found a nice spot to settle in for the evening on the highway so we could watch classic cars roll by.
A couple of noisy hours later, we were hungry again. Taco Bell (that's also TM, right?) was up the road. Not quite a mile away. We decided we could marathon it up there and back, weaving through throngs of others gathered on the sidewalk and sides of the road waiting for the car progression to start. You can't drive, because you will lose your primo parking spot. If you want to go somewhere, you walk. It was quite the battle. We managed to cross the road without getting run over, a miracle in itself, but when we got to a motel parking lot, some dippity-do head was looking into the back seat of his minivan and creeping forward. He tapped my husband. Good job, dude. Five points for the fat guy in the bright yellow shirt. Sheesh.
We managed to get to Taco Bell mostly unscathed. We waited over half an hour for tacos because there's one restaurant on that road and it's fake Mexican food. Actually, that's not true. There's a seafood place, a buffet, and another sit-down and eat restaurant, but it was already slightly after 10 pm and all self-respecting restaurants are closed by then.
I looked up into the bright lights of oncoming traffic and--well, I can't tell you what happened then because my mind went blank. And then it registered that there are cars coming! One was a pickup, but like my brain was worried about the specifics at the time.
The car stopped and my ass was about half on the hood. My husband was somewhere behind me, but I was more concerned about how the oncoming traffic was whooshing by and my guts were not smeared across Shepherd of the Hills Expressway. The last sound I heard was not screeching brakes and I might be able to learn who Peter Quill's father is and PeeWee would not be an orphan, tossed back into the mire that is the animal shelter.
I scooched my butt off the lady's hood and walked around beside the car. I couldn't think of anything to say. Slow brain was catching up--I got hit by a car. A car! Mouth hadn't caught up yet, though. Words would not come forth. I think my husband was saying something, but darned if I know what it was. The lady rolled her window down. She said something about how she was so sorry and she didn't see us. ...We were both wearing neon shirts and were.... totally invisible. Apparently.
Hundreds of people lining the street, traffic everywhere and she didn't see us. Because this is pretty much how every single day of our lives goes. We might've had a little luck saved up and it all went toward not dying as puddles of goo on a busy highway. Expect no miracles for the rest of the year.
Husband says he dented her hood because his foot smashed into the emblem. I probably said something, it probably wasn't brilliant. I mean, when it's so shocking you can't even swear--and I love to swear--you know it's crazy. She apologized, and husband and I walked on. There was no need to call the cops or an ambulance. My wrist hurt, surprisingly my thigh, which seemed to take the brunt of the whack, didn't. Of course, she wasn't moving that fast, thank God. Husband says she got his knee--the same one the minivan guy tapped and it hurt, but I think we made better time back to out seats than we did on the way up there.
Let's see...bucket list, where are you? Oh, here:
Make NY Times Bestseller list.
Win the lottery.
Fortunately, neither of us suffered anything more than a scare. And my husband says he peed a little. Nary a bruise nor scratch showed up on either of us.
Oh...the tacos were awful. They were soggy and gross by the time we got back to our seats. It would have been a totally wasted trip if not for the caramel apple empanada I ordered too.