Coffee Table Declarations
Friday, February 04, 2005
A couple of summers ago I had to drive out to the western part of the state for a friend's wedding in which I was a bridesmaid. The drive was three hours long but that didn't bother me all that much because it's quite a scenic drive. I have made the drive several times in the past to visit my friend at her parents house while we were on summer break from college. Western Massachusetts is mountainous and parts of it are quite rural. You begin the drive on a typical four lane highway and before you know it, you find yourself on a winding mountain road quite different from where you started. It's so strange to see mountains rising up on the horizon in all directions, making you feel like you are in a fishbowl, and you have to remind yourself there is a clear path out. At least, I do. But it's strikingly beautiful at the same time. And once we went to the top of the highest one and looked down through the observation binocular thingys. But that's a story for another day.
So that summer I got an oil change before my trip at a popular well known chain of oil change places. I'll only say that the name starts with the letter J and that if you know which one I mean you need to promise me you will never ever go there. They did such a half assed job and did not put the oil filter back on my car correctly. Little did I know that the whole drive through the mountains (where there is no cell service I might add), my poor vehicle was slowly leaking oil.
Somehow I made it safely, checked into my hotel room, got to the rehearsal at the church and back to the hotel for the rehearsal dinner all without a hitch. The next day however, I was following another bridesmaid in my car because she had grown up there as well and knew the area. We were on our way to get our hair done for the impending matrimony, when suddenly my car's oil light came on. I was mystified because I knew there had to be oil in there. But sure enough, moments later my dear sweet car simply died on the side of the road.
The other bridesmaid didn't notice right away that I wasn't behind her anymore and I just sat in my car and cried. I called my parents in hysterics and begged them to come pick me up but they said they weren't driving three hours and I should take a bus. My parents are generally not so unfeeling but then again, most adult daughters wouldn't dissolve into absolute panic at the prospect of being stranded in an unfamiliar mountain town three hours from home.
Once again my anxiety had to rear it's ugly head. I hate riding in other people's cars. It makes me panicky not to be in control. I know that's crazy, I wasn't always like this, and I hope I won't always be, but there it is. So I had no idea what to do and I've never felt so stranded in my life.
The other bridesmaid finally came back for me and she was terribly sweet and sympathetic. We got my car towed (the other problem - I couldn't have it towed to my mechanic back home without it costing a huge sum of money). It was towed to a local service station and the other bridesmaid took me to her parents house (promising to pull over if I asked her to). From there many more phone calls were made as we tried to locate a rental car place that was actually open on Sunday (I'm telling you this is not the big city out there). I finally found a person willing to make the drive out and rescue me, much to my relief. I was also lent the bridesmaid's sister's brand new car to get back and forth to the hotel in. That was probably one of the nicest and most trusting things anyone has ever done for me. Additionally, the bridesmaid herself had sacrificed the opportunity to get her hair done so she could help me and never once complained. Even after listening to me tearfully admonishing to my father over the phone, "So you're willing to just leave me out here in the middle of nowhere?" Boy, those mountain folk sure are good people!
It all turned out o.k. I was rescued by a knight in shining armor and through the aid of a motion sickness drug, was relatively calm during the ride back. I didn't crash the sister's brand new car or permanently insult the bridesmaid with my opinion of her hickville town. The wedding wasn't ruined and our hair came out o.k., even though we'd done it ourselves. My car was fixed and brought back home and those bastards-at-the-oil-change-chain-which-shall-remain-nameless-but-I-really-hope-you-know-who-I-mean had to pay for the whole new engine (since mine had seized by the way, a big big problem) because I was able to prove the whole thing had been their fault.
Tomorrow for the first time since this whole sordid incident, I have to return to western Mass for the same friend's baby shower. She now lives in Canada with her new husband so it's a heck of a lot easier to see her in western Mass. But I am scared. I feel like I'm getting back on the horse. And I'm embarrassed to see the extraordinarily friendly people who helped me - embarrassed because they probably remember me as the hysterical girl who insulted their town and made the bridesmaid miss her hair appointment. I don't want to go but my friend means just that much to me. So I have to.
So that summer I got an oil change before my trip at a popular well known chain of oil change places. I'll only say that the name starts with the letter J and that if you know which one I mean you need to promise me you will never ever go there. They did such a half assed job and did not put the oil filter back on my car correctly. Little did I know that the whole drive through the mountains (where there is no cell service I might add), my poor vehicle was slowly leaking oil.
Somehow I made it safely, checked into my hotel room, got to the rehearsal at the church and back to the hotel for the rehearsal dinner all without a hitch. The next day however, I was following another bridesmaid in my car because she had grown up there as well and knew the area. We were on our way to get our hair done for the impending matrimony, when suddenly my car's oil light came on. I was mystified because I knew there had to be oil in there. But sure enough, moments later my dear sweet car simply died on the side of the road.
The other bridesmaid didn't notice right away that I wasn't behind her anymore and I just sat in my car and cried. I called my parents in hysterics and begged them to come pick me up but they said they weren't driving three hours and I should take a bus. My parents are generally not so unfeeling but then again, most adult daughters wouldn't dissolve into absolute panic at the prospect of being stranded in an unfamiliar mountain town three hours from home.
Once again my anxiety had to rear it's ugly head. I hate riding in other people's cars. It makes me panicky not to be in control. I know that's crazy, I wasn't always like this, and I hope I won't always be, but there it is. So I had no idea what to do and I've never felt so stranded in my life.
The other bridesmaid finally came back for me and she was terribly sweet and sympathetic. We got my car towed (the other problem - I couldn't have it towed to my mechanic back home without it costing a huge sum of money). It was towed to a local service station and the other bridesmaid took me to her parents house (promising to pull over if I asked her to). From there many more phone calls were made as we tried to locate a rental car place that was actually open on Sunday (I'm telling you this is not the big city out there). I finally found a person willing to make the drive out and rescue me, much to my relief. I was also lent the bridesmaid's sister's brand new car to get back and forth to the hotel in. That was probably one of the nicest and most trusting things anyone has ever done for me. Additionally, the bridesmaid herself had sacrificed the opportunity to get her hair done so she could help me and never once complained. Even after listening to me tearfully admonishing to my father over the phone, "So you're willing to just leave me out here in the middle of nowhere?" Boy, those mountain folk sure are good people!
It all turned out o.k. I was rescued by a knight in shining armor and through the aid of a motion sickness drug, was relatively calm during the ride back. I didn't crash the sister's brand new car or permanently insult the bridesmaid with my opinion of her hickville town. The wedding wasn't ruined and our hair came out o.k., even though we'd done it ourselves. My car was fixed and brought back home and those bastards-at-the-oil-change-chain-which-shall-remain-nameless-but-I-really-hope-you-know-who-I-mean had to pay for the whole new engine (since mine had seized by the way, a big big problem) because I was able to prove the whole thing had been their fault.
Tomorrow for the first time since this whole sordid incident, I have to return to western Mass for the same friend's baby shower. She now lives in Canada with her new husband so it's a heck of a lot easier to see her in western Mass. But I am scared. I feel like I'm getting back on the horse. And I'm embarrassed to see the extraordinarily friendly people who helped me - embarrassed because they probably remember me as the hysterical girl who insulted their town and made the bridesmaid miss her hair appointment. I don't want to go but my friend means just that much to me. So I have to.
