Part Two: The Breakdown (again. . .)

A little hesitance, a little grinding and a hiccup. I knew exactly what those signs meant, but prayed it wasn't so. Just minutes after my pal Nicole and I pulled out of our hotel parking lot after our packed wedding weekend, Betsy (my car) was struggling with her "get up and go." In other words, she was playing her latest favorite trick of rattling her transmission fluid line loose, effectively stranding us in the middle of the main drag in Ongunquit, ME. Nicole hopped out without a second thought to help move the car out of the road, and I did what I could to push and steer her toward the non existent shoulder.

Just one of the many puddles Betsy graced
 the streets of Maine with. . .

In one of those moments that restore your faith in humanity, several men and women appeared out of nowhere to help us get the car into a parking lot of a hotel that one of the men worked at. They yelled to me to hop in a steer, and I remember at one point turning around to see them all in a row running behind my car. Within minutes we were out of the road, safely parked, if slightly shell shocked.

My usual tendency in these car related catastrophes is to dissolve into tears (shocking, I know), but I remained surprisingly calm. To her credit, Nicole was also incredibly put together. At her urging, I contacted some friends who might be in the area to help us, while she ran across the street to grab a business card with the address of the hotel we were at while I placed a call to AAA.

Stephen at AAA in all his professional empathy, ensured me that we would, in fact, be able to ride to Boston with our tow truck driver and we were given the whole "there in 45 minutes" speech.

 We decided to head across the street to the swanky looking hotel whose lot we were hanging in. No one seemed the least bit disturbed by our arrival so, without a backward glance, N and I sashayed through the lobby and out to the back, where we were greeted with an expanse of pools, hot tubs, lounge chairs, and entry to a manicured beach lawn.

It was here that she and I proceeded to spend our hour and fifteen minute wait for the tow truck. We did stop short, however, of ordering drinks and charging them to a random room. I won't say the thought didn't cross our minds, though. . .

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lounging on the lawn at the hotel!

After a warning call that the truck was close, we headed back over to where Betsy was stranded. A man in a giant flat bed truck pulled up, and got to work hooking Betsy up.

Once she was up, Dan, as we'd come to learn was his name, motioned us up into the truck. Lest, you think this adventure is over. You're dead wrong. Third times, the charm folks, and I'll see you for it tomorrow !