My Midnight Lifeline Call
Estimated reading time: 9 minutes, 7 seconds
Flat Tire Deflates My Life
A Friend Supports Me!
As I drove out of the parking deck, I noticed the tire pressure warning light glaring on the dashboard of my trusty twelve-year-old Toyota Prius. I briefly dismissed it, attributing it to the unusually high temperatures and humidity. Yet, as I navigated the transition from I-287 to Route 24 after a delightful dinner with friends, my car started trembling and emitting a foreboding noise that drowned out the radio. Feeling utterly vulnerable and uncertain, I grappled with the fear of losing control of the vehicle. Could this spell the end for me?
After pulling over on the side of the highway, I immersed myself in introspection, reminiscing about the beautiful evening spent in the company of my fellow widows. As Jan’s husband, I often felt like an outsider at social gatherings. However, following my loss, I felt a profound sense of belonging and equality among the five of us, all of whom were widows, including the gracious host. Our gathering had taken place at Becca’s retirement community, where she had kindly invited us to dine at one of the complex’s elegant restaurants. This group of widows, including myself, found solace and understanding in each other’s company, a particularly comforting bond in times of need.
Roadside Assistance
I carefully pulled off the road onto the shoulder of Route 24 East. Some road debris had deflated the tire of my trusty Prius, causing the car to lean at a precarious 45-degree angle. I activated the emergency flashers and kept a safe distance from the vehicle in the dim light of the busy and dark stretch of road, mindful of the potential dangers of roadside emergencies.
Leaning against the roadside railing, I reached for my iPhone and dialed AAA for assistance. At first, I thought no one had answered, so I repeated “hello” several times. Then, I heard a faint metallic voice on the Bluetooth connection inside the car. Realizing I had not turned off the engine, I opened the door, turned off the engine, and switched the audio to the iPhone to communicate with the AAA operator.
When the AAA repair truck arrived, I eagerly offered to retrieve the spare tire from the car, only to discover my vehicle did not have one. The shocking realization hit me, and I exclaimed, “OMG, there is no spare tire!” The AAA driver, Ron, explained that car manufacturers had stopped providing spare tires over a decade ago. Unfortunately, as there was no spare tire, Ron couldn’t help, and I had to call AAA again to request a tow truck instead of being able to drive home.
My Lifeline Call
The night was moonless as I stood on the lonely roadside, filled with regret for not using the restroom at Becca’s apartment earlier. The urge to relieve myself had become unbearable. A chilling realization struck me as I peered over the railing – I was standing on the brink of a cliff. The thought of finding a discreet spot to urinate filled me with apprehension, knowing a misstep could lead to a fatal plunge. Terrifying thoughts of potential headlines flashed through my mind: “Bridges Board Chair Dies in a Dark Ravine!”
Feeling the gravity of the situation, I decided to contact a friend for help. I hastily texted her, “I just had dinner with the widows, but now I’m stuck with a flat tire on my way home. I am currently waiting on the roadside for AAA.” Despite the confusion regarding whether we were or were not in a relationship, I had no other option but to make my lifeline call as I needed her support with the approaching midnight.
Her response, ‘I’ll be leaving in about 15 minutes, and I’ll call you,’ was like a ray of hope in the darkness of the night. A surge of relief and gratitude engulfed me at that moment. In times of solitary struggle, having a friend to lean on can make all the difference. The weight of the situation lifted as I knew I wasn’t alone on the side of the road.
As I was engrossed in texting my friend, I almost missed the arrival of the AAA truck. Robert, the kind-hearted tow truck driver, listened as I explained my predicament and kindly recommended towing my car to the nearby Mavis Tire Store. His kindness was a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. Seated in the truck’s cab, I experienced slight dizziness from the unfamiliar height as I watched as the road stretched before me and we merged into traffic. The relief of the tow truck’s arrival and the driver’s kindness reassured me my difficult night was almost over.
While seated in the tow truck, I was engrossed in texting my friend when she suddenly gave me a call. I told her I would call her back. I inquired about Mavis’ operating hours for the upcoming Sunday, and Robert shook his head, chuckling softly. They’re likely closed until Tuesday due to the holiday,” he said. My mind buzzed with thoughts of managing Sunday grocery shopping without a car. As I pondered this, I thought of moving into a retirement community, where I could eat in the many restaurants instead of doing grocery shopping.
Arriving at the Mavis Tire store’s parking lot, I hurriedly approached Robert and inquired about the nearest restroom. He kindly pointed across the street, indicating that the only one he knew of was at QuickCheck. Before I could determine where the crosswalk was, my Lyft arrived, and my iPhone buzzed.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
