On the Way to Breakfeast...

by Gail Balentine

For the past two years, on the first Saturday of the month, three friends and I have met for breakfast at our local IHOP. We laugh, commiserate about work, life’s ups and downs, and offer unsolicited advice. I love getting together with them and look forward to it each month.

            On a clear, crisp March day I overslept and had to rush. I had been up late the night before and was bleary-eyed but that didn’t bother me. I was always in a great mood on Breakfast Day. As I backed out of the driveway, I saw a red light blink on the car dashboard but got distracted trying to avoid the neighbor’s trash barrel that had blown into the middle of the street and forgot about the light.

            When I pulled up at the end of my street I was surprised by the line of cars going by. Eight o’clock on Saturday was usually pretty quiet. I was trying to think if there was some event going on in town that I had forgotten but the traffic went right out of my head when the noises started.

            A mild clunk, followed by a much louder clang. Oh no, not today! I held my breath but when there were no further noises, I told myself it wasn’t very far to the restaurant, sent up a little prayer, and cut into traffic. Everything was calm and quiet until, as I coasted to a stop at the traffic light, there was a ferocious wrenching sound followed by a loud thud. The radio, the heater, the engine – everything stopped cold.

            The traffic light turned green but I could not move. The lady in the car behind me started honking her horn. I got out of the car, careful to dodge the cars coming from the other direction. That same lady and the two behind her began a symphony of toots. I ignored them and looked under my car. Sure enough, there was my engine, or at least some part of it, laying right on the ground. I never knew your car engine could just drop out like that.

            When the horns continued, I tried to use hand gestures to tell the woman behind me to go around but she shook her head no. I walked over to her car window to explain but she wouldn’t listen. She just kept telling me, loudly, to move my junk heap.

As I turned to leave, I slipped on an oil slick coming from under my car. And when I stood up, I had to use her nice, shiny Cadillac for support, leaving very clear handprints on the white bumper and hood. The man next in line, now too impatient to wait, pulled out to the left around me and promptly hit the first lady’s car because she apparently had decided she had to save her car from me and she swung  out wide at the same time that he moved. A screech of brakes joined the honks when a car coming fast from the other direction saw what was happening. Unfortunately, the car behind him did not see and hit the first car’s bumper.

            By this time, there were so many horns blaring and people out of their cars yelling and pointing, mostly at me, that I couldn’t hear myself think. I reached for my cell phone. There was no charge – it blinked on long enough to tell me I was not going to be able to use it.

            Next came the police siren.   

Two officers got out of the cruiser. One went to the cars heading east and started separating them and taking notes. The other came to me and the people heading west, who were now questioning both my heritage and my IQ.

            I was relieved to see the officer. He said, “Lady, you gotta move this car.”

            Since it was obvious my car was not going anywhere, I assumed he was trying to lighten the mood with a joke. Thinking it was great to show a sense of humor at a time like that, I went along the gag and said, “Yes, well, if I can find my Wonder Woman gear, I’ll do just that.”

            It was the strange way he looked at me when he said, “What did you just say to me?” that made me realize I might have read him wrong.

            From that point on I switched gears and was very respectful, answering his questions, and showing him my license. A tow truck driver arrived in short order, assessed the situation quickly, tapped me on the shoulder and said he was going to try to get my car on his flatbed truck but it might take a while with the engine literally on the ground. I said to do whatever he had to do, I had AAA. I dug around in my purse and handed him the card. He pointed out that it had expired three months earlier. He said he would tow the car to the nearest garage and bill me.

            The officer said he’d give me a ride to the police station to complete the paperwork. I think he was trying to protect me. As I got into the cruiser, the woman from the car behind me yelled, “Look! He’s arresting her!” Several people, more than several actually, started applauding.

            We went to the station. The first thing I did was call my friend Joan to come get me but the call went to messages, which was odd since at that point she had to be sitting at the restaurant, wondering where I was.

            When all the questions on the form had been answered, the officer asked me to sign in several places. Having been taught to never sign anything until you read it first, I started at the top, with the date. I didn’t get any further.

            “Um, officer?” It was hard to talk around the lump in my throat.

            “Yes.”

            “Are you sure about this day and date?”

             “What? Yes, I’m sure. Today is Friday, March ….”

            Friday?

            It would be later that evening, as I consoled myself with the idea that the whole incident was behind me, that a friend called and I learned I was a ‘star’. Someone had obviously videoed my exchange with the officer and my Wonder Woman joke was a smash hit on You Tube - 1,457 hits and counting.

                                                                                    *****