So there we were, merrily driving down the “Expressway” for a day of fun with our friends from Wisconsin, when the traffic came to a halt at the usual spot. It looked pretty bad so, on a whim, we took an off ramp, saying,
“The GPS lady will find us another way”.
Just as we came off the the expressway, the off ramp started to back up too. Of course.
Kev braked. Hard. I’ll admit that much. But we stopped in time to avoid the car in front and with a little bit to spare.
Then there was a squeal of brakes and I barely had time to think, I hope that car doesn’t hit us, before that car hit us. Hard.
Then came a second thump and a second dunt as the car behind that one rammed into him, shoving him into us again, in case we had missed it the first time.
An hour and a quarter of sitting-in-the-blazing-sun-with-increasingly-hot-and-restless boys later I called the police again and asked if they were actually sending someone or if we were just sitting there for fun. (I was much, much more polite. The police carry guns here.)
“Can you drive?” the dispatcher asked, hopefully.
“Well, one of the cars is leaking fluid,” I said. (Not ours)
He sort of groaned and said they would send someone out, but that they had “a lot going on today”. He was nice but you can tell he could have lived without our little fender bender.
Meanwhile we had called:
- our friends in the city — to cancel our afternoon of fun,
- our friends in the suburbs — to come and rescue the boys before they baked,
- all the rental car companies in the area, all of which were close (nota bene, do not have an accident after noon on a Saturday!),
- our friends at the autobody shop who are getting to know us quite well this year — to tell them to expect to see the car in the lot when they get there on Monday.
Love my cell phone.
My neck hurts, my head hurts, I’m probably sunburned, and our road trip is going to be costing someone a lot of money, since we’ll be hiring the biggest car we can get…
…As soon as the rental places open on Monday.
I’m back at home now (shout out to Unckie S., who came to rescue us) and Kev just called to say the police are there and the tow-truck is there, but he’s given it to the clueless folks behind us who hadn’t thought to call one, and he’s driving our car home, without its rear bumper.
(You’ll note our front bumper is fine since WE weren’t travelling so fast that we couldn’t leave a little stopping distance. Thank goodness.)
Still, at least this’ll take Kev’s mind off the big talk he has to give at the American Boffin Society meeting on Monday morning.