This is funny now that it’s over.
Before I tell the story, let me preface it by saying that my phone is an iPhone 6 Plus and is one of those covered in the big Apple battery scandal. We took it to the Apple Store for our discounted mea culpa battery Apple promised everyone to make the bad publicity go away, and they said, “No problem. We’ll have that for you…at the end of March.” Well flippin’ great, two months with a phone that keeps dying when the battery is still 50% charged.
We’ve gotten close to a foot of snow over the past couple days. My husband took his 4-wheel-drive truck to work last night because he’d be going straight to Mt. Brighton for his ski patrol shift Sunday morning, leaving me with the Mini Cooper and minivan.
This morning I needed to get our middle-schooler to a 9:30 a.m violin lesson, after which we planned to make the long drive to church in Plymouth. It was raining ice at 9:00 a.m and our high schooler had to stay after church for a meeting, so I decided she could take the minivan and I’d drive the Mini Cooper. I dropped violin girl off and turned around to go home and get dressed since I was still in my pajamas.
We live on a dirt road off another dirt road, so our area is not exactly high priority for the plows and salt trucks. Our road wasn’t too bad, but when I turned onto the dirt road that runs past the nearby sheep farm, I realized just how low to the ground this car is:
Coming up to sheep farm corner, I got stuck in a mound of snow in the middle of the road and could go neither forward nor backward. I got out and tried to kick the deep snow away from the tires but it did no good because the underneath of the car was sitting on a pile of wet, heavy snow.
“Crap,” I thought to myself. “I’m going to have to call AAA to tow me out and who knows how long THAT will take?” I got back in the car to call Miss High Schooler to pick Violin Girl up from her lesson.
And then my phone died. And my charging cord had (AGAIN) been the victim of an absconding teenager. Had I not gotten panicky, I would have remembered the battery pack and cord Phil gave me in my purse in the backseat, but I’d only had one cup of coffee and wasn’t thinking so clearly.
I started to freak out a bit as a car approached with its turn signal on because I was blocking the corner; I waved my arm trying to indicate that I was stuck and that they should carefully go around me. I honestly didn’t expect them to stop, but they did, and out got a man in a three-piece suit and dress shoes along with a teenaged boy I took to be his son, who was in nice jeans and dress boots. I thought maybe they’d let me use their phone to call AAA but instead they insisted, over my protestations since they were clearly dressed for church, on pushing me out.
I thanked them profusely and went home to swap the useless Mini for the minivan so I could pick up Violin Girl. We never did make it to church today, but I was grateful just to make it back home, thanks to the good will of the passing man and his son, the kind of good will I referenced in my previous post that feminists are rapidly depleting with their ugly, rude, entitled, delusional behavior.
On the way home from picking up our daughter from her violin lesson, I took a picture of the corner where I got stuck:
It doesn’t look that deep, maybe eight-ten inches, but in a car that only sits a few inches off the ground, it was plenty.