That Left Turn

My car must hate that left turn. It's the one I take at some point nearly every day. It's the last left turn before I get to my neighborhood. It's less than half a mile from my neighborhood.

It's the left-turn lane where I rear-ended someone three months ago.

It's the same left-turn lane where my car stalled completely out tonight. And oh, what a great place to be. The very front of a left-turn lane right at the beginning of Friday night rush-hour traffic.

For reference, I was in the eastern side of the intersection. The east left-turn lane.

The battery light had gone on yesterday...but we'd just replaced the battery a few weeks ago, so surely it didn't need immediate attention. So I'd just dropped by the bank to deposit actual earnings, and was on my way home. Coming over the 95 overpass, my car stereo sputtered then died. Weird. Okay, hubby will take this in in the morning to get it checked out. Then, I'm at the stop light at the intersection. The east left-turn lane. The air-bag light starts to flicker. Really weird. Okay, hubby will definitely take it in tomorrow. Then the car starts sputtering. Uh, oh. Come on, baby. Just give me a few more minutes, just another mile. Please don't die on me in the middle of this busy intersection in the middle of rush hour traffic. Please don't... Oh crap.

So there I am. In the middle of rush hour traffic with a stalled car. I put on the flashers. The left-turn light turns green. The cars behind me begin to honk and wave their arms angrily. Evidently they never figured out what their emergency flashers are for. I wave back in frustration as I dig out my insurance company's number from the glove box. Eventually the cars behind start driving around me, to the left. No compassion, these people.

This scenario repeats for at least 5 light changes, as each new line of cars behind me learns (very slowly) that I'm stalled and I'm not going anywhere. Then the flashers die completely, so it's even more fun. (By fun, I mean embarrassing and frustrating.) One kind soul does pull up beside me and ask if I need help. They call the police while I'm trying to get through my insurance company's automated menu. Of course I can't remember my pin number at a time like this! And no, I don't want to clearly speak "I don't know" into the phone at a time like this! I eventually resort to pressing zero repeatedly. Whoever invented those automated menus should be shot. Repeatedly. Or, even better, be sent to automated phone menu hell, a hell of their own making.

Eventually I reach a real person and ask for the Emergency Roadside Assistance department. They ask if I require emergency assistance or just the roadside assistance department. Didn't I just ask for the emergency roadside assistance department? Huh? Oh, they are asking if I need the police. No, just roadside assistance; someone has already called the police for me. Am I in a safe location? I don't think so! I'm effing stalled in the middle (okay, not exactly the middle, but the left-turn lane) of an intersection. My life is in peril from these people behind me. So I get the Roadside Assistance person, and they ask me if they can ask me a few questions to better provide me service? What? I had to have her repeat the question. I was busy waving another angry line of cars around me. And yes, ask the questions. Please don't waste my time for permission to ask me what you need to know. She asks "Are you in a safe location?" and "Do you require police, etc?" Oh, God.

So finally, they get the information they need, including where I want the car towed (which, after figuring out, I had to repeat half a dozen times and eventually spell--I'm sure the stressed-out tone in my voice was not appreciated). They tell me I will get a call soon with the tow truck company's name and ETA. Meanwhile, I'm still waving angry drivers around me. The call comes in not long after, telling me that the tow truck should be there within an hour. An HOUR. Oh, God. By this time, I've also reached hubby to apprise him of the situation.

Soon after, a county cop pulls up behind me. Thank God! I talk with him briefly, and he sits behind me with his lights on until the tow truck arrives. Now, at least, no one is beeping at me anymore. No--now the drivers in the northern left-turn land are rubber-necking at me as they drive past me and the cop car. Remember, I don't have flashers on. I look like someone who's gotten busted. Yeah, that's me. I got busted. All the drivers that pass me have this look on their face, like "who's the criminal" and "shame on you." I am a pariah. Meanwhile--and this is kinda fun--the drivers in the southern left-turn lane area also rubber-necking, to the point where they aren't paying attention to their own light turning green. So now, they're getting beeped from behind. Ah, the simple things.

The drivers behind me, behind the cop (who still has his lights on), are just sitting there waiting for us to move. Eventually they realize that's not happening, so they move to the right and either turn left in front of us or just go straight. I'm watching the progression in the side mirror. Some are turning around at the CVS and taking another street to get to the next light up. But, predictably, as soon as one line of cars clears, a new line comes up behind the cop, and the whole dance starts over again. Some of them sit through several light cycles. I hear a few beeps behind me. I wonder if they're beeping at the cop. Probably not. The only cars that immediately get into the next lane when they see the blue lights are other cops.

Eventually I realize that the left-turn lane light is no longer turning green. Someone downtown has turned it off. My lane is permamently (at least temporarily) red. This really confuses the drivers behind me, I think. I continue to watch the line of cars behind me in my side mirror. Nope, not hubby. Nope, not the tow truck. Not hubby, not the tow truck.

At some point, during the midst of the embarrassment and stress, a friend's face pops in my mind and says 'isn't this a great time to practice extending compassion to others in a similar situation or with similar feelings?' And part of me says, 'Really, at a time like this?' And my friend says, 'What better time?' Of course he's right. I sigh, and remember that this is a short-term discomfort. I feel slightly better.

The tow truck arrives. (Thankfully well under an hour.) Hubby arrives. I ride with the tow-truck driver to the dealership. The insurance company's automated service calls during the ride to advise me that my tow-truck driver should arrive within 15 minutes. The driver, Vince, is very nice. He thinks it's the alternator. Or the battery was not the right kind, but more likely the alternator. He manages to get enough power to the car so I can roll up the windows. We sign in and then drive home. As I'm unlocking the front door, the insurance company's automated service calls to advise that my tow should have arrived by now. I have a beer. And then I blog.


(And about the aforementioned accident, what can I say, I was preoccupied. If I told you the story you'd understand. And it was my first at-fault incident ever, so I'm doing pretty good, considering my history of accidents [mostly as passenger except for the one where both cars were totaled]. Another long story for another time!)