So. My last blog was about turning 30 in Bruges. My next blog will be dedicated to a weeklong trip with mom and dad in Europe. But we'll take a quick detour to get there…
I was to meet mom and dad at the Venice/Treviso Airport at 9:30 in the morning. That meant leaving my house at 2:30am to drive 2 hours to London’s Stansted Airport, park in long term parking and make a 6:25am flight. All was good for the first hour of the drive – then it was not so good. The M4 (motorway) was closed and there was a diversion (UK code for detour). I was a little panicked because I had only built a 30 minute buffer into my travel time – but I took the exit. The diversion signs quickly disappeared as I was pointed into Windsor. I had the TomTom (Kate) up – and she was telling me one thing (most likely rerouting me to the motorway – which I knew wouldn’t work). I started to follow Kate’s directions, but then I thought that maybe there would be another diversion sign up the road – so I made a last minute change in direction. BAD IDEA. I hit a curb at about 30 mph. Immediately I knew something was wrong. I was on a overpass, but stopped and put on my hazards. I definitely had a flat tire, so I just pulled myself together and started getting the jack and spare out of the trunk. Remember – it was 3:30 in the morning – still really dark – and there was a mist threatening. I set the jack and started to lift the car – but something wasn’t quite right… After resetting and trying again I knew something was wrong – I looked at the back tire and it was flat too!! 2 FLAT TIRES! What could I do? I only have 1 spare. I realized that I was going to have to call some roadside service company to come get me. I had thoughts of abandoning the car for a taxi to the airport – but couldn’t decide what the consequences would be. I was definitely going to miss my flight. Ugh. I really needed the vacation.
I have been towed once before – the dreaded diesel/petrol incident – so I thought I had the AA (England’s AAA) number somewhere in the car - that time I used April's membership. I started pawing through the glove box – but it wasn’t there. It was the middle of the night, so I couldn’t call anyone here – besides my friends in London are car-less and were and hour away, and my friends in Swindon were asleep and an hour away. I was ALONE. I called Kathy in Oregon and had her looking online for the AA phone number. As I was speaking with her a police car pulled up. Two women police officers (stayed in their car) asked me what happened and I told them and asked for the number for the AA or the RAC (another Roadside Assistance Club in the UK). They backed up behind me and made calls to get the number. Then they pulled up alongside, handed me the number and said “We are on our way to an operation – so we can’t stay. Keep your hazard lights on. Good luck.” And left. I started in with the call to the RAC. They informed me I could join from a roadside emergency situation for £107 per year (since I plan to leave the country in the next 3 months, this was GREAT news). But I did join – I had no choice. I was super lucky in that the tow truck arrived in 30 minutes (as opposed to a pretty normal 2 hours). The man put the spare on my rear passenger side and then hooked the car up to tow (even though he really should have used a flat-bed truck since my front passenger tire was a mess). I don't know why this picture keep rotating - it is saved horizontally - blogger is doing something weird...sorry.
For my £107 joiners fee they could tow me 10 miles to a “safe place”. Again, I was super lucky – he took me to a Qwik-Fit (a local tyre chain) and it opened at 8:30am – so I just had 4 hours to wait. He had suggested leaving it on a side street nearby for the week that I’d be away and dealing with it when I got home…but I couldn’t see the sense in that – since I was missing my flight anyway. I just wanted to deal with it.While sitting for 4 hours I called a lot of people. I had a book with me – but was too shaky to read. So Kathy helped me rebook my flight to Venice. There was a flight landing 5 hours after I was supposed to land. It didn’t give me a lot of leeway, but it was really the only option. Our hotel for that night was booked in Salzburg – not Venice, so I could take a late or next-day flight. The change cost £257 in addition to the measly 20 that I had already paid for the missed flight. Ouch!
Up to this point I was doing a pretty good job of holding it together – except for the shaking. But then at about 6:30am I called April. I completely lost it. I knew that she knew what it felt like – being totally alone, not knowing what to do, in the middle of a disaster in England. It wasn’t pretty. (I am afraid of posting this picture – but it is “for posterity” so I will… and the salty tears screwed up my skin for the next week – so you’ll understand my crappy skin in the pictures from the vacation.)
I was much better once the tire place opened and was first in line to get fixed up. Bad news there – my front wheel was damaged and needed to be replaced. They don’t stock wheels at the tire place – so that would have to wait. The replaced 1 tire and re-aligned the car – charged me £136 for the pleasure and sent me on my way at about 9:10am. I had another hour or so to drive (or more, since with the spare I was supposed to top out at 50 mph) and at least a 20 minute bus ride from parking to the terminal. I needed to check in by 10:25. It was a race.I did make it – just barely. Mom and dad picked me up from Treviso at 2:30 and we headed north through the Alps to our destination in Salzburg. Somehow I was able (after a quick breakdown with mom and dad) forget about it all week. Then as my return flight was delayed on Wednesday night it all came back. That I would have to drive the car 50 mph home for 2 ½ hours down the same stretch of motorway – in the middle of the night again. And that I would have to fix the car. Ugh. The return drive was event free (except stinking long) and I walked in my door at 4:15am on Thursday.
I got the wheel from Ford today (£135) and the tire replaced at lunch (£65). I don’t mean to put in all of the cost for pity – but just to point out that another bout of stupidity – this time with a curb instead of a gas pump – cost me £700. Yowza. So now my car is whole again. I just might take up walking to work.
Yes – I am SO ready to move home.
I don’t have any impending travels – but I will try to get my butt in gear and type up the trip to Europe – it was a fun time.
No comments:
Post a Comment