Thursday, March 18, 2010

New England Pot Hole


I called my husband around noon. He is happy as he answers the phone in a van full of family. "Bye. Love you." I hear from everybody in the van. My father-in-law and Jo are on their way home and my sister-in-law and husband are driving them down to the airport in a borrowed van. "Great to see them, love family, good luck on the trip home," I'm thinking. 3 hours later I call my husband again just to see how things went. This time he's not so happy. He's at a tire dealership somewhere in Massachusetts. Two tires on the van, he tells me, blew up when the van and a pot hole met on the ramp just this side of Boston Logan airport. "What?" I ask him for details. Apparently, a giant pot hole wrecked havoc and blew out tires from several cars on their way to the airport. My husband called 911. The Boston police quickly escorted a city truck to the pot hole to fill it up and then.......drove away, leaving my husband, his sister, father, and Jo, to sit like naked ducks in the middle (and I mean middle as there was no place to pull over) of Boston traffic...for 2 hours! A tow truck came and helped the car ahead of them, with similarly blown tires. And then drove away! All the while the rain came down fiendishly, sideways. Of course, Ken's father missed his flight and it cost over $300 to replace the tires but let's look on the bright side. The borrowed van now has two shiny new tires!

1 comment:

  1. Now that is just plain ole' shit luck.

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