I was having a pretty easy day 'til she decided to put the car in the ditch. Hi, I'm Tenshi the Guardian Angel and I'm here to tell you Terrie's story. I think she's too embarrassed to tell it herself.
We'd just had an unusually mild weekend. You know what happens when winter hits again after a few days like that. Ice. Everywhere. People falling down on it, breaking ankles and limbs. Angels and tow trucks racking up overtime. It was one of those bitterly cold, windy days that makes me wonder why anyone lives here and makes me thankful my charge has an attached garage on her house, a reliable car, and indoor employment. Pretty cushy job for me!
Terrie had an appointment with her hair dresser after work, out in the boonies north of Bagot. She's been navigating that road over a decade and, although it makes her nervous, I've managed to keep her out of trouble. This particular day she drove preoccupied with her trip to Denver just two days away. She was heading down that gravel road a little on the fast side. I don't recommend this. I stayed on the alert.
When she hit an icy patch, I could tell she was finally in the moment when she started saying "oh...oh...."
I managed to keep her ol' Caddy from spinning around or flipping, but when it stopped it was up to its windows in snow.
I saw a bad word forming at the back of Terrie's head and before I could cover my ears, it shot out her mouth.
"Now what?" she said next. This chick has no cell phone. I don't recommend this. "May as well start shoveling." She popped the trunk open. There was no getting out the driver's side, so she climbed uphill to the passenger side and pushed hard on the door. She thought she was heaving on it with all her strength, but I heaved my share, too. I slipped out and helped pull her out of the car, where one look told her she could shovel all day and all night and still not get that car out.
I figured she'd have enough sense to wait in the car and put on the ski pants and leather mittens from the back seat. Instead, she closed the trunk and marched down the country road in the biting prairie wind, leaving the warm clothes behind! I don't recommend this. Brings to mind the ol' cliche about fools rushing in.
This is not the woman you want in charge at your next disaster, folks. In her befuddlement, she thought the nearest yard site was her destination. By the time she reached it and realized it was abandoned, it was too late to turn back. Nothing to do but keep walking.
All the way, she kept saying, "Lord, please send help, please send help."
What was I? Chopped liver? I thought. I took stock of her outfit. A hood and scarf, good. Mittens were nothing to write home about. Still wearing those ten year old boots from Payless. Well, they'd keep her vertical on the ice, anyway. While she envisioned her fingers frostbitten and falling off, her writing and secretarial careers both grinding to a freezing halt, I focused my attention on blowing warm air on her fingers, toes, and nose.
A half hour and two miles later, she arrived at the Hell or High Water Salon, looking like a Popsicle. The white kind. What flavour are those, anyway?
Hot tea, extra sweaters, and sitting under an old fashioned hair dryer were just the cure.
The car got rescued the next day, none the worse for wear. Terrie was okay, too, once she quit shivering. Except for her ego. And once her hair was done, that was pretty much taken care of, too.
Impressive thing: of all the humans who ministered to her that night (thanks Doreen, Brian, Dan, and Jon), not one pointed out how foolish she had been.
I definitely recommend this.
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