A Drive with guests.

So here I sit in my grandmothers kitchen. It’s a very quaint house, built in 1923 and with lots of charm. The woodwork is dark and the walls are stark white, all of them adorned with family photos or trinkets with memories attached. Most of the furniture and paintings my dad remembers from his childhood, and grandma has done a great job keeping everything looking and operating like new despite it’s dated appearance. Mom left a while ago, stating the need for a walk and alone time, and dad, in a futile effort, tried to change a light bulb in the steep stairwell to the basement. There is absolutely no way to get a ladder positioned on the stairs, and the ceiling goes all the way up, so him and grandma are off in search of one of those extenda-thingys that’s supposed to help with bulb replacement.
This means that I have some time to write, so here I am.

Yesterday was jacked. I would have said fu**ed, but there are all varieties of people reading this, so I have to have some filters. It started with meeting my dads uncle John and aunt Jean for breakfast in Madison. Breakfast was my favorite... lot’s of tasty food for very little money. We were passing old pictures around when I noticed that Jean’s gaze had shifted from pictures, to staring blankly at the tablecloth. There was a total loss of connect in her eyes, and no response when I asked her if she was okay. Then her head dropped and her arm began twitching, and that’s when I knew that she was definitely not okay. Thank God there was a nurse in the restaurant, and she laid her down and kept her pulse until the paramedics arrived. To my shock, my dads uncle John seemed to be more bothered that our time together was being interrupted than the fact that his wife had just collapsed... he even kept trying to explain pictures to dad, while his wife, the person that he is supposed to love the most in this world, lie there helpless. I wanted to slap him! This incident brought great insight into a curse that runs in the Sheild side of the family... being more concerned with not making a scene and not wanting to disrupt a moment, that you would even downplay the possibility that your spouse might be dying. This is an extreme example, but it shed so much light for me on how deep the background is for striving to be socially acceptable above all else.

So we finally got on the road stopping at a few small towns before Illinois. One thing I’ve realized about traveling with 3 other people is that bathroom breaks become a much more frequent occurance. Having to worry about 3 other people aside from myself also heightened my stress level... Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and my grandma, but the driving dynamic is way different. Is my window down to far? Can I have music going? Is the music too loud? I never had to think of these things driving by myself. So sets the scene driving into the where I was born... the northern suburbs of Chicago. My anxiety and stress level had been teetering on the edge for about an hour or so, and per my request, dad had devised a route that would avoid the interstate. I wish I had chosen the interstate. Once we got into Illinois, there were stoplights on the highway... everywhere. No joke, by the time I finally got Frankes over loaded ass to 55 mph, I was slamming on the brakes coming to a stop. And trust me, it takes a LOT to get her up to speed, and a LOT to get her to stop. But more than this, being her pilot, my sanity level was hanging on by a thread. So we stopped to see the house mom and dad lived at when I was born... which happened to no longer be there. Very emotional for mom... and understandably so. After that and stopping to see the hospital where I was born and where mom worked at, we were perfectly lined up for Chicago’s rush hour traffic. FML. I also for the most part was not smoking while driving because of wanting to respect my passengers... bad idea for me during rush hour. Stop and go, stop and go, stop and go, stop and go, BAM! A purple PT Cruiser suddenly collided with my bumper after being hit by the person behind her. I immediately expected the worst, but Franke was still running, so I pulled off to the shoulder while the other two morons decided to put their flashers on and block traffic. Not that I’m judging. After getting out and examining the damage, I realized that Franke’s bumpers were pretty tough, because there was hardly any. After looking back at the other cars, dad and I decided that it would probably eat up at least an hour if we did the whole insurance thing, so we hopped back in the van and took off.
Another solid hour of stop and go, and at this point I’m so tense that I’m nearing an emotional breakdown, and suddenly a popping sound came from the engine and then a total loss of power. We were right in the middle of two freeways merging in rush hour, there was no shoulder, and no exit in sight. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to explode. I downshifted to third and got a short burst of power before it sputtered and died again... then into second where I got another burst of power. She would surge then backfire then die, and kept doing this barely limping along at 20 mph. Finally a miracle: 31st street exit 1/4 mile. As we got to the off ramp Franke let out one last backfire and died. Miraculously, we navigated the off ramp, around a bus, and coasted into a spot on the side of the street. Getting out of the car I swear I almost collapsed... my adrenaline was rushing so hard I could barely hold my cigarette.
We prayed for a miracle, and then went off in search of a bathroom. After a block of walking, we quickly realized that we landed near chinatown and every place was displaying a ‘no public washroom’ sign. A very kind chinese lady reluctantly and despite her sign, let us empty our bladders. After about 45 minutes, we decided to see if Franke would start and make it to a gas station down the street. Sure enough, she fired right up and made it without a problem, so after filling up with gas, we ventured back out on the freeway, where we experienced no more issues whatsoever. She made it the last 150 miles to Grand Haven like a trooper, and I still have no idea exactly what was happening with the engine back in Chicago, but I believe that God worked a miracle to get us safely where we needed to go. It was a crazy day, and this is now a crazy long blog entry, but I needed to put this day into words.