There is nothing worse than car problems. Well, I know there are things that are definitely worse, but when you’re stuck on the side of the road in a car that isn’t driveable, it seems like it just couldn’t be any worse.

A little more than a month ago, my van died. As I turned the corner onto Main Street, it made a horrendous sound and came to a very sudden stop, halfway into the intersection. The needle that shows the RPMs spun all the way to the right, although the van wasn’t in motion. 

She wouldn’t move forward and wouldn’t go into reverse. I was only a block from home, but in the split second that it became obvious this was a serious problem, home seemed to be as far away as the moon.

I turned on my hazard lights and passing cars swerved around me, apparently annoyed that I had the audacity to break down right there in the middle of the road.

I frantically called my son and told him to get to me now – right now! I was able to put the van in neutral and began to push  and steer into a nearby parking lot. It nearly glided uphill into the parking lot. I thought I was either stronger than I thought or the van was lighter than I thought. It wasn’t until the van was safely out of the road that I realized my son and his friend were pushing, too. I have no idea how they got there in less than 15 seconds.

We found out the van was beyond repair and she was sent to the place where all good cars eventually go.

I now have a “new to me” car. It began making a funny clunking sound over the slightest bumps. The sound was coming from the front driver’s side. I suspected it might be the tie rods. I took it back to the place I bought it and reported my suspicion. The car was put on the lift and, while it wasn’t a tie rod, a loose part was found. The guys fixed it and I was on my merry way – until Sunday night.

My son wanted to visit a friend who lives forever away in Acton. I dropped him off earlier in the day, but on my way to pick him up later, The Bad Thing happened.

As I topped the hill on Oak Street in Springvale, there was a horrible sound. It felt like the car bottomed out and a terrible grinding sound issued from under the car. I pulled over, jumped out and checked under the car, fully expecting to see the exhaust system dragging on the ground, but it was still securely attached.

For some reason, stranded on the side of the road, home seemed a million miles away. Civilization seemed to be on the other side of the earth. I felt so vulnerable on the side of the road even though homes were literally a stone’s throw away. I began wondering where the nearest source of water was and what material I had to build a fire. I could use the stuffing from the seats. I thought about using my shoe laces to snare a rabbit or some other hapless creature for dinner. I thought I had been pretty smart to watch the television show “Survivorman” so often. I glanced at my daughter sitting next to me as I recalled the story about the Donner party’s fateful trip over the Sierra mountains in the 1840s.

  I climbed back in the car to call my husband on my cell phone. He left work to drive up to my desolate location.

 I nursed the car back home with my husband following.

The next day I called the car lot I had bought the car from. They came right down, loaded the car onto a flatbed and rushed her to the “emergency room.”

My car is in surgery right now. I hope she pulls through OK.

I’m glad I bought my car where I did. They have been terrific.

Apparently someone else in town is not so happy with the car dealership they bought their car from. Prominently displayed in the back window of their new car is a huge sign that welcomes people to call their cell phone number to find out how another local car dealership wasn’t so fair. 

 It’s good to be back home. 

 – Renee Worthing