221 - Interstate 35

"Many cities, these days, seem to have people living on the surface of life but hardly in it's soil, diluting the deeper questions of life in television monologues and reality shows, amusing ourselves to death..."
Don Miller - Through Painted Deserts

I read those words tonight and it reminded me of today's previous events. Every day I skim across the surface of I-35 to and from work. I have driven that route so often that sometimes it feels like I use only my peripheral vision as I get lost in the drone of local talk radio or NPR.

Today I met a couple people who know the roads.

I was pulled out of my trance-like drive to work this morning when my car demanded attention by suddenly letting up on power. I wasn't sure what was happening, so I down-shifted. I got my power back, but moments later lost it. Traffic was a bit slow anyway as I was in the stretch of road across from Union Station that approached downtown. It soon became apparent the the situation with my engine was only getting worse and that I would not make it to a convenient location for a break down. I was in the far left lane of of a four lane with no shoulder. I put my hazards on and came to a stop. In the review mirror, I could see how quickly that traffic was becoming backed up because of me. I was so used to hearing traffic reports on the radio of a stalled car that has northbound traffic backed up to Cambridge Circle. Was I about to become a report on the radio? I have to admit that I was a bit embarrassed. Will any co-worker pass by and recognize me? I was embarrassed to be the one to stop traffic.

But how do I get out of this mess? Thank goodness, I remembered ot bring my phone with me. I tried starting the engine a couple of times in a vain attempt to get out of this situation discreetly. No luck. Who do I call? I think I need a tow. Should I call Vernal to get me a number. Thankfully, I didn't have to mess with any of that, because Patty came to the rescue.

Her MoDot truck with the yellow flashing lights and the Motor Assist decal on the hood pulled up behind me within 3 minutes of me stalling out. Her first concern was moving the car to saftey and how she was going to push me and on her signal (a honk on the horn) we would switch lanes as she pushed me over to a shoulder with a grassy area.

Patty was really friendly. She told me that she was going the opposite direction when she sensed that something was happening in the north bound lane. I am glad she knows the road. Patty was probably 50-something and she was a toucher (in a way that puts one at ease) and one who addresses people by "honey." She called a tow truck for me and during the wait we talked about the in's and out's of her job and how thankful I was of it.

Soon the tow truck arrived, and the driver looks like a Willie Nelson type of character. He has the poney tail hanging out of his old cap, the mustache that curls over his upper lip, the untucked plaid shirt over a pair of dirty jeans that cover his small, skinny frame. Jim quickly takes action - pulling levers on his truck and crawling under my car with chains. Within a few minutes my car is pulled up on the flat bed. When all is safe, Patty leave to help out the next person in need and I hope in the cab with Jim.

Jim was also a real nice guy who understood peoples problems with hard times. He often gets calls from the police to tow for free. And he states that he doesn't take advantage of the situation, when the service is a must some can charge pretty high. He knew Patty quite well and told me some sad stories of other highway workers, officers, and other tow drivers who met some untimely deaths when I commented on this being a dangerous job. His cab is noisy with the sounds of police radio from the front and the fire department radio from behind. We talk over the noise. He pulls out a cigarette and assures me he'll blow the smoke out the window. I responded that it didn't matter to me, but he was apologetic about his smoking habit and the latest report of second-hand smoke. He went on to tell me that at his age, 65, he has had 3 heart attacks and now eats a diet of 12 grams of fat a day. I was hoping the next heart attack was not in the next 2o minutes. He did quite smoking for 6 months but recently picked up the habit again. He felt ashamed that his youngest son, 19, just started smoking, or that he found out that he has been smoking. But what can he tell him?

Jim had a smooth move that shows his 30 years of experience. At the VW service shop, he pulled a few stall past an empty stall. After unhooking my car and raising the flat bed, he backs down and with the momentum of gravity slide the car back in reverse and turns into the empty stall. A perfect parking job! I couldn't back up that well with gas.

Soon Vernal came to take me to work. I paid Jim and then wondered "are you suppose to tip tow driver?" I didn't. I feel so awkward about the social graces of tipping. Who are you suppose to tip these days. I've never been towed before, so I don't know if that is a common courtesy. If so, how much. I don't want to be cheap, but I also know that we are going to have an expensive bill to fix the car.

I hate car problems. If we had light rail, I would use it every day. I envy my friends who live in big cities and don't own cars, because it is not needed.