Afternoon Adventure of The Less Pleasant Kind

This afternoon, on the way home from church, my husband's car DIED at an intersection. Simply would not run, would not turn over, no power windows to go up, nothing. It was not an intersection in the best part of town, but there was a gas station nearby. The attendant was completely encased in bulletproof glass/plexiglass, with pockmarks in a few places. I asked for numbers for a taxi and a tow truck. His first language was not English, and from the accent, probably not Spanish, either. I can speak enough Spanish to get by. When I motioned for "phone" and said "numbers" a second time, he waved me to a phone book outside the glass. We called a cab, and the driver was quite nice, even switching his radio station when he saw my church clothes and Bible. I was glad he was driving with all the windows open, because there was enough cigarette residue in the car to activate my asthma otherwise. I came home, got my car, and went to the dealership to pick up my husband and bring him home.

Lessons: carry keys at all times, carry phone and have it charged, and be ready to walk if necessary. We had all but the last one. Triple A would have been nice, too, though I've seen Mom and Dad wait a lot longer than we did for a tow. Boy scouts aren't the only ones who should Be Prepared.