Solitary Travels -- An Alternate View

I really enjoyed Michelle's post about solitary travels, but after this weekend I would like to humbly submit that not everyone may be as well-equipped for such an adventure as Michelle.

This past weekend, two of my good friends got married in Richmond, and I decided I would drive to the wedding so that I would have easy access to transportation to visit other friends in the area. Before I left, several of my friends asked if I thought it was wise to take my car--which is very faithful, in that it faithfully breaks down every time I drive it out of town--but I had just gotten it checked by a mechanic so I said I thought it would be ok. Well, sure enough, five hours into the drive, I hit the brake pedal at a toll--and it lurches forward. At first I thought, "Oh, I must have slipped and hit the gas for a second"--but when I hit the accelerator, it also lurched. Not good, I thought. I started making a flurry of phone calls to get advice on whether or not I should pull off the road, but no one was answering so I finally decided to go it alone. I got off at an exit and drove all over but discovered that "service stations" do not exist in Northern Maryland. (Michelle and Dean, I'm sure I'm wrong about this, but seriously, if they exist, where are they??) So, after an hour of fruitless searching--and with my car still lurching its way along--I decided I needed to just give up and call a tow truck. Since I was a girl by myself, and since I am not fluent in mechanic-speak, and finally since the problem was not evident from looking under the hood, I'm pretty sure that the tow truck driver assumed that I was sweet and stupid, and therefore took me to a Pep Boys where, as he put it, "They know how to deal with all kinds of cases." (I kept asking him if he thought I was just making this up, and he said, "Well, honey, it's always better safe than sorry, now isn't it?") At Pep Boys, I waited for two hours before they finally came back to me: yes, there was a serious problem; yes, it was a transmission issue; no, they could not fix it; and by the time we determined all this, it was after 5 pm so no transmission places were open. I asked if they thought I could continue driving to Richmond; they said, as politely as possible, that probably someone else could drive it safely, but they were a little skeptical about me. (This was the only part of the trip when I felt like being alone had its benefits; at this news I broke down crying, and let's just say that I don't think many customers cry in Pep Boys. I immediately got a 75% discount.) My wallet slightly (but only slightly) lighter, I gave up and went to a hotel for the night (after which my wallet was significantly lighter). The next morning, I woke up and decided I simply had to get my car fixed that day, and since I had very little knowledge, experience, or cash on my side, I was going to "kill 'em with kindness." I called up an AAMCO and told my story; after swearing at me (apparently, rush transmission jobs are a little stressful), the man on the phone said he would try to fix my car that day. I thanked him profusely, grabbed him an extra pastry from the free continental breakfast, and got in my car (which was no longer lurching) to drive to his shop. Once I got there, I continued to thank him profusely and describe in detail how wonderful my friend was who was getting married; how disappointed she would be if I could not make it for the bachelorette party that evening; how said I already was because I was missing seeing so many good friends; how great it would be if he could help me. Well, the methods seemed to be working, because he got pretty involved in my story--so involved, in fact, that he decided he would keep me company all afternoon in the waiting room and he began to think it was acceptable to make awkward jokes with me about strippers. (I finally had to say to him, "Sir, this is going to be a very tame bachelorette party." He said, "What, you mean like only one stripper?" I said, "No, I mean like a movie and popcorn and Diet Coke." He looked at me like I was from another planet, which was about the level of distance I was going for at that point.) I spent 9 hours in the waiting room--reading Cry, The Beloved Country and planning my curriculum--and whenever he got too friendly I would go to the bathroom or go for a walk, which seemed the only feasible ways to slow down our relationship.

At the end of the day, my car was fixed, and I made it down to Richmond just in time
for the party, although unfortunately not in time to see several of the friends I had planned. I am not good at making decisions under pressure, and so I wonder how it would have been different if someone had been there to help me decide, "No, we should just go straight to a transmission place;" "No, we really could keep driving down to Richmond and get it fixed there;" "No, trying to charm the mechanic into fixing your car is not a good idea, unless you want a last-minute date to this wedding." :) So Michelle, maybe I need to take lessons from you on how to live independently, but I think it might be awhile before I take a trip alone again! (And if anyone wants to buy a very charming, faithful 99 Honda Accord, I think I'm ready to sell...or give away...or maybe pay you to take it...I'll take the best offer.)

Addendum: I totally forgot -- I also flushed my spare keys down the toilet on the way back to Boston. I now carry a spare set of keys on me in case I lock myself out of my car--which I am prone to do--so it was just too funny that by being over-prepared for one problem, I still ended up causing myself drama. I agree with Michelle here that one of the sad parts about traveling by yourself is there is no one to share special moments with; the other ladies in the New Jersey Turnpike restroom were not nearly as amused by my plight as I was or as I'm sure any of you would have been.