Trifecta of Transportation Troubles, part 1

Here's a story I can finally write about without ending up in the fetal position in a dark corner somewhere.

So a month ago, we took a mini-vacation. It was the 3-day Labor Day weekend, and we decided to knock off early on Friday and take Little Dude to a theme park for the weekend.

I made all the plans, packed the bags and loaded the car. Little Dude had a half day, so we picked him up and ate lunch in the car while we started on our 6-hour drive. We figured we would arrive at the hotel in time for dinner, and then get a little swimming in before hitting the hay.

But you know what they say about the best laid plans, right?

Two hours in, the "Service Engine Soon" light came on in my 4-year-old car. Usually, it's something benign and I wouldn't really worry about it. But I was with Big Dude and he actually believes that warning lights only come on for valid reasons.

We were 50 miles away from the town that sits about halfway between our home and our favorite getaway, so I suggested that we stop at AutoZone and have them check the computer code. Big Dude wanted to stop at the local dealership because AutoZone can't always read the codes right for newer cars, but I didn't want to waste the time and money at a dealership when we could get it checked fast and free. Besides, I just had the oil changed and all the fluids checked before we left. AND I just had our car at our dealership a couple weeks earlier for some annoying little master cylinder recall thingy. The car had been checked out recently and everything was fine.

Or so I thought...

We made it to the AutoZone and I quickly convinced someone there to check out the car's code. I imagined it would be something simple and we would be back on the road in no time at all. But the attendant said the code was "funny," indicating something was wrong with our transmission fluid. They suggested we visit the nearest dealership, which happened to be down the road.

So we got back in the car and Big Dude smugly drove to the dealership.

We managed to find the service department, which was tucked away in a very remote location on the lot. Big Dude talked to the service guy while Little Dude and I found the waiting area, complete with a germy-looking, rarely-if-ever cleaned, child's play area in a not-quite-soundproof glass cage...er, office.

We waited. And waited. And waited. Little Dude played and ran around and screamed like a banshee. People looked and stared. But what did I care? I was on vacation! My kid should have been swimming at a pool, not sitting in a car dealership. Just because we had to pause our trip, it didn't mean Little Dude couldn't still have some fun.

Several hours later (seriously not exaggerating here), Big Dude came and told me that I needed to call AAA and get our car towed back home.

WHAT?!?

Apparently my car's transmission was failing. It could probably limp back home, but there was no way it would be able to tackle the hills we would need to climb to get to our vacation destination. And Big Dude was worried that limping back home was iffy.

So I called AAA. Now, I will say that I was not in the best of attitudes at this point. However, I still tried to remain calm and civil on the phone. The AAA operator answered and I explained our predicament. Without a hint of sympathy, she dryly asked for the addresses of where to pick up the car and where to drop it off. The ladies at the dealership's service counter were much more empathetic as they helped me with the information I needed. Then Ms. AAA told me that a tow truck would be along in 45 minutes and that it would cost $400.

WHAT?!? (again!)

After I picked my jaw off the floor, I asked Ms. AAA-Stands-for-Amazingly-Apathetic-Attitude why it would cost so much. She curtly said that my membership only covered 100 miles and that after that it was $5 per mile. The she asked how many people would be riding with the driver. I told her I was here with my husband and child, so three of us will need a lift back. "The tow truck can only take two people and no car seats." I was tempted to ask her if she was suggesting I leave my child behind, but I'm not sure she knew what sarcasm, or any type of joking, is.

During this time, Big Dude was playing with Little Dude in the glass children's cage. Yes, it was floor-to-ceiling glass walls. But for some reason, Big Dude could not see my waving my arms and jumping all around while attached to the desk phone by my ear. (No cell phone signal in the dealership.) People had begun to notice the strange blonde lady reenacting Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies routine. Everyone was looking... except Big Dude. So I finally did what any respectable, civil person would do... I threw something.

It worked. The loud thump of my leather wallet hitting the obviously child-proof glass wall got his attention. Big Dude came out bellowing, "WHAT is going on?" Now people were really watching because we had just turned this into a Jerry Springer moment. And to be honest, I didn't care at this point. I had been in that dealership for several hours watching my child roll around in who-knows-what-kind-of-germs. Lunch was several hours ago and I was hungry. And to top it off, my dear sweet husband dropped a bomb on me, asked me to make a phone call for him, and then walked away.

I really hate when that happens.

So I relayed all the information the AAA drone gave to me, and Big Dude had me relay back that just one person would be riding in the tow truck.

Big Dude and I walked over to the glass cage where we were now setting up house and laying out the floor plan for where we wanted our furniture to go. We discussed the idea that we now needed to find a rental car and cough up $400 for the tow. This was turning out to be a rather expensive vacation. "Hold on," he suddenly said as he once again disappeared into the service center.

A few minutes later he reappeared to tell me that he would drive it home. He said the service guy told him that if he was careful then we should be able make it home... or at least close enough to avoid a $400 tow.

So I called my favorite automotive club once again, and this time actually talked to someone with a pulse. She was much more sympathetic to my plight and said that we could call back at any time to request the tow again. She even wished us luck before hanging up.

Everyone in the dealership got together to throw us a quick going-away party. After all, we had thoroughly entertained - or possibly annoyed - them for the past several hours. The service guy had a priest give our car a quick blessing and then sprinkled it with fairy dust. We loaded back into the barely functioning vehicle and drove slowly away from the setting sun.

If only we knew what the car gods had in store for us the rest of the week...