I am not, however, a very bright individual. As evidenced by my adventure in ice driving. I'm rolling along, minding my own business, doing the highway hypnosis thing, and it starts snowing. I don't realize what's happening until I'm coming down a bridge overpass at 75mph, and the car starts wiggling. Damn it's windy, I think, until the rear end starts flailing around like a stipper on stage, and it dawns on me, I'm hydroplaning, on ice, on an overpass, at 75 miles an hour, with no control. Nice.
Again, I may be a bad driver, but I know my limitations. It's slow and steady for me the rest of the way home. I watch sporty little coupes fishtail by me, pumping their brakes. Uh huh, I think. You doucherocket. Serves you right. Approaching a traffic light, I begin the braking process waaaaaay early. But not early enough, it seems, as that bitch locked up tighter than a virgin in the back seat of her brother's best friend's Pinto. My turn to pump the brakes. Nuthin. Wonderful. I'm watching the light as it glides toward me, yellow going on red, and I'm damn near standing on the pedal in my 3-inch ankle boots. The car is freaking out, the ABS thrumming, as I slide gracefully to a stop in the middle of the intersection. It's quiet. It's cold. And I realize the car isn't running. Stalled. I turn the key, and yep, you guessed it, nuthin.
Let me just say, this has never happened to me before, breaking down in an unsafe location like the middle of an intersection on a busy highway. The phone calls commence. As I'm speaking to roadside assistance, which turns out, I am not signed up for, I look in my rearview and very calmly tell the woman, Hold on, I'm about to be rear-ended. I closed my eyes and braced myself as a BMW much like mine pulls a stunt just like mine and slides toward me, also unable to stop. Did you know you're supposed to call 911 when your shit is waving in the wind like that? I didn't, until that moment, when I realized holy shit this is an emergency.
Dude didn't hit my car, but I had to change my pants, it was that close. He actually had to back up several feet to get around me. At this point I called 911, and waited calmly until the 5-0 arrived. Shortly after that, the tow truck showed up. Apparently you get a lot faster tow service if you call 911 and tell them you're blocking traffic. It was 8 minutes, tops. I must now get out of the car, and step onto a thin sheet of ice covering the road, in my 3-inch patent-leather ankle booties. Not exactly weather-appropriate. I inch my way around the car, past the poor cop, who is standing there about to shit his pants because holy God it is slippery and cars are flying. He had to call in another cop to block his car, which was blocking my car. He was a cutie, too. Considered falling to get his attention, but realized I would likely shatter my ass-bone and sprain my wrist. Perfect end to a perfect evening.
Let's wrap this story up, because I'm tired of telling it. Next day, I call the tow yard and ask if they can tow the car to a service station. There is a pause on the other end of the line.
Tow guy: It started just fine.
Me: Really. The black one, stuck in the middle of US 1?
Tow guy: Yeah, picked it up myself around 1. Went out this morning, it started just fine.
Me: What in the hell...?
Another pause.
Tow guy: You didn't put it in park.
** blink **
Me: Sonofabitch! I am an asshole!!
That little story cost me $90.43. I hope you enjoyed it. I accept PayPal and personal checks.
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Go ahead, validate me. You know you want to, you enabler.