So, we're driving, The Fiance and I, this weekend, when we totally shouldn't have been. It was snowing, blowing, schools were closed, the roads were ugly. But, you know, since when do we listen?
Back to the story...
As we're heading down the highway - four lanes, separated by a median - an attempt is made to switch lanes. BAD IDEA, people. Bad. Before I have the chance to say, "f$#k," the car is fishtailing. And spinning. Then we're facing the wrong way on our side of the highway. The we're spinning. And snow is flying. And I can feel the ground sliding beneath the car. The scene went much like this:
"Don't brake, don't brake, don't brake, don't - "
"What do we DO?"
"I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared!"
(Lots of snow flying, lots of swearing, lots of my life flashing before my tightly-closed eyes)
"I SO cannot afford this!"
And because, why bother hanging onto the steering wheel, The Fiance and I clasp hands as the car continues to lose control. We actually held hands as if to say, "OK, well. It's been real. Sorry we already spent so much money on the wedding." As the car spun, I fully expected an impact. Be it, the car flipping over and bursting into flames. The car careening into oncoming traffic, only to be hit by a semi and burst into flames. Either way the car, dammit, was going to burst into flames, and The Fiance and I were going to die before we ever got to go to Mexico for our honeymoon.
That is so not cool with me.
Clearly none of the aforementioned happened. The car came to a rest, in the median. Very much stuck. I opened my eyes, realized we were alive, and cried because, shit, that was scary. My legs were shaking, and I swiftly took inventory: Limbs, check. The Fiance, check. Car, check. Everything in one piece, check. Able to get out of the ditch, uh, no check.
We sat in the car, in the ditch, covered in snow, and pondered the situation. So, now what? I see we're alive, but how does one get out of this situation, please? We finally decided to call 411 and locate a towing service. A towing service we, clearly, can not afford because, hi, we are trying to afford to live and get married and raise cats, duh.
"Hi, we need a tow truck. We're stuck in a ditch."
"Yer stuck in a ditch?"
I knew the minute Mr. Tow Truck said "Yer," we were in trouble. While awaiting, patiently, his arrival, a nice gentleman in a truck pulled over to survey the scene. Yes, we're OK. Yes, we're stuck. Yes, we called a tow truck. Thank you. In minutes, a sheriff's deputy arrived. Repeat same conversation.
And, finally, a tow truck came barrelling into view. Out climbed Jim? Jeff? I'm not sure, I couldn't understand him. He was missing his four front teeth. And his hat? It was covered in grease, therefore I couldn't read what business he said he came from. His hair protruded from the cap, greasy from lack of washing. The dirt under his fingernails and cuts on his knuckles made me nervous. His truck was, well, dilapidated, to say the least. I thought of, perhaps, screaming, as he crawled on his hands and knees in dirty overalls, dragging a chain and a hook through the snow.
I remember telling The Fiance, "Jesus Christ. This is straight out of a horror movie," but I sat still, watching, and remembered, "I'm pretty sure we're stuck in a ditch, and if Jim Bob has to haul us out, then so be it." But that didn't stop me from imagining him dragging our car out of the ditch, us screaming inside, banging on the windows, and being hauled to a remote location in a cornfield, where he would proceed to cut off our limbs and throw The Fiance's lifeless body into a combine, which I stared, screaming bloody murder.
Or something like that. I watch a lot of horror movies.
But sure enough, he hooked up the car, pulled us out and subsequently let us go, unscathed. After, of course, charging us $100 and flashing a toothless grin.
"You kids be careful, now," he said, making me squirm in my sweatpants.
But sure enough, we were out. We were alive. The car was in one piece. And we had just forked over $100 that neither of us had. What a good day. Later, once safely at home, we sat on the bed, staring at the wall. It was sort of one of those moments where you're not really sure what to say. You quickly start to look at life differently. Like, "Shoot. Make sure I at least look presentable next time we get in the car." And, "Mom would've been SO pissed if we died."
We spent a lot of time in close proximity to each other for the remainder of the night. As we watched Jack Bauer continue to save the United States of America for the sixth time in a row, The Fiance grabbed my hand.
"I'm glad we didn't die."