a suburban girl in the country

I was out in the country again for a class. As I was heading home I missed my turn to get back to the main road. So I turned around in the next available driveway on the two lane country road. As I pulled back onto the road I saw the prettiest periwinkle blue, cloud scattered sky and sun-drenched corn field. I knew I needed a picture. 

Was this shot worth it?

This is where being a suburban girl, naive to the ways of the country, got me in trouble. Since I had just turned around there were no driveways in the foreseeable future, I decided just to pull off the side of the road onto the grassy shoulder. Only it was not a shoulder. Apparently, the police officer later informed me, if I were from the country I would know that country roads do not have shoulders - they have ditches. 

As my car quickly angled itself into the ravine I tried my best to maneuver out. No luck. Once the car had settled I desperately tried to self extract again. This caused me to sink a little deeper. So I got out to survey the damage. My car was at a 45 degree angle and the front passenger tire was two feet down in a ditch. I admired the cornfield and snapped the picture that I had parked there to get, determined that I was going to get back into the car and drive away. 

Back in the car I made a little headway and was feeling good about my chances of rescuing myself ...until my front drivers-side tire started spinning out of control and smoked up my whole car. Nearly asphyxiated, I got out and found that I had melted the top layers of the tire; they were shiny, sticky, smooth and hot. Yes. I touched it. I was curious. I had never done this before, it was interesting. Then I remembered the boys telling me that on NASCAR they revved the wheels purposly so they would get sticky and they would grip better. 

 

Invigorated by the idea that I would have NASCAR-like traction from the sticky rubber and hopeful since I had made a little headway the last time around, I decided to put something under that front tire for its sticky surface to grab onto and that would undoubtedly get me out. Um, yeah. Lets just say that I now have one less blanket taking up space in my car. That tire ate it up and spit it out and then laughed at me. I got out of the car, which now wreaked of burnt rubber. Again. 

 (L)  After getting it partially extracted by myself.  

Note, still no back tire showing. Also note, truck driving by, not stopping.

(R)  The shiny melted NASCAR tire.

I stood on the side of the road making phone calls and praying that my battery, at less than 10% left, would not die. I tried the local fire department, less than one mile down the road, but they were ALL out at training. I called my coworkers that were anywhere relatively close but NO ONE picked up their phones. I don't have AAA. My house and roommate and friends were 45 miles away. I was screwed.

Wait, after dozens fo cars passing me for the last 20 minutes, one large truck finally pulled over. Out stepped an angel of a man in a McCain pullover. He said that he might have a towing strap in the back of his truck to pull me out with. (I was so relieved. This man had just secured my vote for McCain.) Only it was not in there. He apologized and asked if he could do anything else to help me, but me being the proud tough girl with an inability to ask for help said "No" (retard) "I'll be okay," (no you won't) "thanks" (which I was).

Using my awesome iPhone, I had google find the nearest towing companies to me and called one down the road. They would be there in 15 minutes. By this time another couple dozen cars had passed. No one else pulled over to ask a stranded girl, with her car obviously in a ditch, if she needed help. NO ONE. What was happening? I was in the country! I thought people in the country were supposed to be nice. I thought they were supposed to help others. I thought they were good, kind and neighborly. Where was the love?!? 

I was disillusioned. I had been lead astray by tall tales of how great the country was and how much nicer the down-home country folk were. Whatever. They can't even bother to stop and help a damsel in obvious distress. Now I know that they are no better than my people in the suburbs. I no longer love the country. The country can keep its stupid corn fields and big lawns and shoulder-less roads. The country and I are SO through.

Another cool shot I got while waiting for the tow truck.

Anyhow. A tow truck came. He pulled me out in like two point five. And charged me $75. Ouch. From there I sped towards home, called an order into the Thai place for dinner, got onto an eight lane freeway, saw some tall buildings, stopped by the Thai place where they had dinner waiting for me, and proceeded home, grateful to be back with my people in our squished townhouses with tiny yards. I love the suburbs.