Always Look on the Bright Side of Life
Here’s a true story of some very bad luck, which ultimately became a positive memory…
Los Angeles, Tuesday, June 28, 1994 – I arrive at my girlfriend Erin’s house bright and early. We’ve only been dating for 3 months, and we’re about to begin our first vacation together — 3 fun-filled days in Las Vegas. We toss our bags into the Chevy Nova, and we’re on the road by 7:15am.
As we begin the 300-mile drive, Erin tells me about a dream she had the previous night… a vision of our car breaking down in the middle of the desert with the two of us stranded on the side of the road waiting for help to arrive. Hmmmm…
Let’s hope it’s just a dream because we’re in the middle of an intense heat wave.
8:36am – About 80 miles into our journey, I see something in the road ahead. It looks like a small branch. No time to swerve. Thump… our car runs over it, and I see whatever it was shattering to splinters in the rear view mirror. No harm… on with the drive. Just a few minutes later though, one of our rear tires blows out. I quickly pull over to the side of the road and inspect the damage. The tire is completely destroyed, with pieces of rubber strewn along the highway behind us like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Just as I’m tightening on the spare, a highway patrolman pulls up to see if we need help. He kindly directs us to a nearby Walmart where we can get a new tire. We thank him for his help, and we’re back on the road with a brand new tire at 9:50am. I tell Erin, “Well, it looks like your dream came true after all, but at least it only delayed us about an hour.”
“That’s weird,” she said. “In my dream we broke down in the middle of the desert, but here there are grass and trees. Oh well. On to Vegas.”
We make a quick stop in Barstow for breakfast. Then at 12:30pm, about an hour from Vegas, our car suddenly jolts, and we hear the sound of grinding metal. Even though we’re going downhill at the moment, the car is quickly slowing down. I pull over and manage to coast right up next to a call box. Fortunately we’re still in California because there are no call boxes past the Nevada state line, and neither of us own a oven repair los angeles cell phone at this time.
We gaze around the Martian landscape… not a manmade structure in sight. I ask Erin, “Is this what you saw in your dream?” She nods.
I open the car door, and whoosh… a rush of eyeball-seering heat invades our air conditioned space, as if we just opened the door to an oven to pull out a batch of fresh-baked cookies. It’s over 110 degrees outside.
We use the call box to call for a tow truck. They estimate they can get a tow truck to us in 45 minutes.
But the 45 minutes come and go, with no tow truck in sight. We call back for a status update, and are told it should be there soon, but there are a lot of breakdowns this time of year due to the heat, so there could be some delays.
After 90 minutes, the tow truck finally arrives. I say to Erin, “With this kind of heat, I wonder if the tow trucks themselves ever break down.”
Apparently Erin’s psychic abilities infected me as well. The tow truck promptly breaks down as soon as it gets to us. Of course we feel much better when the driver exclaims, “Wow, this has never happened to me before!”
As the driver starts pushing his truck down the road trying to get it to start, we go back to the phone and call for another tow truck. “45 minutes,” we’re told.