Filed under: Folks
That moment when all hell breaks lose is something that lives with ya for hours afterwards. I was looking down at my freshly installed tach when I heard a pop and saw my cup holder fly off the tranny tunnel. By the time I got my eyes on the road, we were perpendicular to the shoulder and headed quickly towards a deep grassy ditch.
It’s at that point that instinct took over. Instinct can be a funny thing – it’s not always right or even logical, but this time it worked. Joyo and I got lucky. After over correcting to avoid the ditch, we narrowly escaped a head-on with a guard rail and stopped innocently on the shoulder as big rigs flew by, seemingly ignoring the pandemonium that had just ensued.
The passenger side rear wheels studs sheered and the rest is pretty obvious I guess. The damage hasn’t really been accounted for in my head quite yet as I’m just, well… a bit heart broken and not ready to go there yet.
Joyo and I had planned on taking all kinds of cool stops in the wagon on the way up to Ohio. Pictures and stories for TJJ would have ensued. Shit happens, but good often follows and it certainly did this time. The H.A.M.B. saved our asses and the Hot Rod Cinematic.
Bob Bleed posted an SOS for us which lead to Denise giving a call to Doc in Shreveport. Within 15 minutes of the accident, a roll back with a suburban in tow was headed our way. The roll back was for the wagon and the suburban was for us to continue our journey in.
There aren’t many words that can communicate the feeling of hopelessness I had while stuck on the side of the road 1500 miles from where people were counting on me to be. There are even less that can describe my appreciation for Doc. The man is the beginning of the beginning…