Well, it's been a long minute since I've written anything here. I was hoping to have some news about school to post. But, as it stands I've had to reschedule my placement test and I've had some troubles gathering all the required tax information for FAFSA. (Student Aid) So, I'm still waiting with no new news to share.
I would like to share a story that happened just a day or so ago, however...
My uncle Richard passed away last weekend. I didn't really know him as well as I knew his off spring. Not that that made his funeral any easier. He was survived by three children all of which were older than me and lived in Detroit. John, his youngest, is my age. We share a great bond between us. Don't ask my why. We have only really seen each other a hand full of times the longest of which lasted a week. But, we quickly transversed family ties and became good friends instantly.
When his dad passed he asked that I be one of the pallbearers. I of course agreed. But, this is not a story of how nice the funeral was or how a disease thought to be Parkinson's destroyed the man that I once knew. This is actually a story of the adventure getting to Metamora in the first place.
It was early Sunday morning when Mom called to tell us the news. I could hear in her voice how rough the night before must have been. "John asked if you would help carry Richard's casket." she said. "I would be honored." was my reply. So, preparations were being made. I called the Art Institute to reschedule my placement test. Bridget went and had the oil changed and tires rotated. And come Monday we we were ready to roll out. We supposed to leave around noon that morning the viewing was between 10 and 4. And we had about an hour and a half drive to contend with.
At least that was the plan...
My wife babysits a friends little girl. The plan was to pack up, take her to school then leave from there. Well thats when fate intervened. We are down to one set of car keys.( The Mrs "misplaced" the spare sometime last summer.) God love her, she threw the keys in her coat pocket then threw her coat in the trunk!
I had to call the dealer to find out how to take the back seat out. The Mrs found another car to borrow and took Ali to school while I wrestled the back seat out of our Buick. It took me about an hour to get it out retrieve the keys and replace the seat. The Mrs returned just as I was putting it all back together. Much relieved that I was able to do it and not have to spend money we don't have on a silly mistake we rolled out. Only about an hour behind schedule. "Plenty of time" I thought.
All was going smooth for the first half hour or so. Then my wife says "The 'low tire' light just came on!" "Does it feel loose or wobbly?" "No." she said. "Well, lets just slow down a bit and limp on down to 52" You see at the time we were still on 465 just south of the 70 exit. So 52 was only a few minutes ahead. We made it to our exit and to a service station. Just so happens the way the wheel stopped when we pulled up I could see the problem right on top. A long square piece of metal had pierced our brad new 80,000 mile tires. I heard the whistle of escaping air before I even squated down to investigate.
We found a Discount Tire just two miles from where we were. Not in the right direction but, close enough. I aired up our leaking tire and limped down to the tire place. Apparently we had bought a new set of tires from them about five years ago for a different car. They didn't bother to see if it was the same car or not. They just seen we had bought a new set from them once and fixed our flat for free. Cha-ching! This took about an hour as they were really busy. So, I called Mom just to let her know we were going to be even later than expected.
"Everything happens for a reason. I don't know why your supposed to be late. But, I know in my bones that you are supposed to be" "Well, something is sure going out of the way to ensure we are. So, maybe your right, Ma" I said, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. We got our tire patched. The man who did the work said if it were any bigger he couldn't have patched it. So, we dodged that bullet. We climbed back into the car, now starving, and hit the Hardees drive through. A quick bite and back on the road we went.
My wife was driving and all the hustle and bustle of the mornings escapades had left her too tired to drive long. So, I took the wheel for the las 10 miles or so. When you get close to Metamora, 52 gets really winding. I was just getting to the end of the curves when I hit the brakes. "PUPPIES!" I said a little louder than planned. Startling my wife from her slumber.
8 puppies and their mother to be exact. Just trying to cross the highway. My wife asked "What do we do?" I really didn't have an answer for her. But, I knew these animals were not going to make it without our help. I opened the drivers door and three puppies jumped in the car with out any help. My wife jumped out and started to call for the others to join us on the safe side of the road. Momma dog was nervous and wouldn't get any where close and by this time traffic was starting to whiz past us. Narrowly missing Momma and pup alike. Bridget ran out and scooped three pups up and darted across the highway. That made momma dog and the remaining puppies (with the exception of the one that had taken a shine to me) follw her. She took them up the embankment and set them down. The whole pack of them just sat there looking at me. The Mrs jumps back in the car and starts laughing. I wasn't going to let that little guy go. "But, I'm afraid momma will follow us if we don't give her all her babies back." she says with a smile. "But, but, he likes me...OK, you're right." And once more across the highway and up the hill she went.
As we pulled away I could see the little doggies prancing off towards the house and away from the highway. "Is that what we were meant to do? Had fate delayed our trip to save those puppies? I don't know. But, I bet no one else would have bothered to stop to help them.