As promised here is the recounting of our Father's Day drive home that will go down in the history books for our little family. It all started off well enough, we left Houston at a decent hour and were making good time. I was excited because it looked like we were going to make it home well before dark and bedtime. We'd managed to not have to stop every hour for bathroom breaks and the baby had taken a few good naps. We had noticed our Suburban having some issues changing gears, but we had just flushed the transmission (a.k.a. The Flush of Death) and believed we would make it home okay. Two hours from home as we slowed for a stoplight we felt the car shudder. I held my breath as my husband tried to accelerate and nothing happened. So much for making good time. It was 102 outside and eerily quiet inside our vehicle. WB's head was on the steering wheel and was praying the baby would stay asleep a little longer. This is the part in the story where I must detour slightly.
WB was not in the cheeriest of moods to begin with. We had celebrated the day before with my family for Father's Day after he returned from a long trip. I think he was still tired, and when he's tired he's grumpy, and when he's grumpy well, just cut a wide path around the dear man because he doesn't get that way too often...thank goodness. Anyway, one look at his face as he raised his head to gaze out the window and I knew a storm was brewing.
He started the car back up and put it into gear until we got to the next light, yes it was red, so we had to stop. Bad, really bad because now we have to try to get the car to shift through the gears as we start up again. The 'burb wouldn't go, it was hot. Did you know that if you let your car cool down then try to restart it the transmission will actually work until it heats up again? Apparently, that is the case...I learn something new all the time. So we waited and yes from the stubborn set of my husbands jaw I knew we were going to continue on this way for quite a while. I watched longingly as the town we were in slowly disappered in my rearview window.
Let me skip ahead to us now sitting on the side of the road, sizzling in the heat, nine miles outside of town, semi-trucks and cars whizzing past at speeds over 70 MPH. I am replaying every video I have seen of pulled over cars getting swiped and crushed by passing traffic. I sit quietly, which has taken me years to accomplish, and wait. It's clear to me that in my husband's current state of mind he is not thinking clearly. I know I must say something and pray for the right words.
"Maybe we can call Daphne, her brother lives in town and maybe he can be of some help." Daphne is a dear friend who is from the town we just went through and though I'm grasping at straws I'm thinking maybe this will help WB snap out of his current mind set.
He agrees and I call. And guess what, she and her family had just left the town we went through and were about 20 miles ahead of us. She calls her brother who is on his way to get us and then Daphne calls back to say they are turning around and heading back towards us as well! I'm thanking God for this good fortune while WB finds a safer spot to pull over as we wait.
The plan is this: Daphne's brother will take us to the hotel and then go back to tow the suburban and pick up WB. Daphne and her crew only have room for one passenger so they will take WB back home while girls and I stay the night at the hotel. Since we will not fit into WB's car with all our stuff he will wait until morning, rent a car and come get us. Sounds like a plan doesn't it? And it was a good one, but little did I know the storm clouds on my husband's face were not the only ones brewing that night...