Yes, I know, most likely your parents taught you that rule. Perhaps mine tried as well. Clearly, it didn’t take…
I left today clothed in a fleece sweatshirt and my jammie pants, thinking “Hey, I’m just running out for a few minutes to check out a vacant house. I don’t need full Realtor Body Armor for that.” The Convergence Zone had set up over Snohomish a bit earlier, but those were only small, insignificant snowflakes falling. Nothing to worry about.
Got done looking at the house (which is, as you may imagine from the photo above, officially in the Boonies), pulled out of the driveway, and made it about a block before the car died completely. I did manage to pull it barely off the road in the corner there, smoke gently wafting from underneath the hood. When I opened the hood, there was liquid sprayed across the inside. I’m hopeful that it was just coolant, but there seemed to be some oily characteristics to the fluid. I was unable to reach a conclusive field diagnosis, other than “Hmmm, that seems bad.”
Remember those snowflakes I mentioned? Yeah, well, they were multiplying fast. Luckily, I still have search gear in the back of my car, so I soon had a stylin’ hat, jacket and jammie pant ensemble going on (I’m quite certain I looked like a crazy cat lady minus the cats).
There are no cell towers out in the boondocks. Nope, not a one for miles and miles as near as I can tell. I flagged down one of the people who come screaming around the 90 degree corner and gave him the phone number for a buddy of mine from the towing industry. He promised to call for me as soon as he reached civilization.
Bottom line is that I wasn’t stranded for a horribly long time (although it was enough for me to garner sympathy from some of my friends ~ I may have overplayed the Damsel In Distress routine just a bit).
So now I’m wheel-less for a few days. Won’t that be fun?