So WordPress has again given me a topic to write about. “Describe the longest roadtrip you’ve ever taken,” it commanded. So I shall comply.
In August of 2007, myself, my brothers, my dad, and stepsister (plus families) all rented a huge condo for a week in Myrtle Beach. And we all drove separately.
Worst. Roadtrip. Ever. Misfortune happened upon us like a plague upon Egypt.
My dad, stepmom, and stepsister all left about 3 in the morning, driving two separate cars. Their trip went fine until just an hour outside of Myrtle Beach when my dad got a speeding ticket in an area where no speed limit was posted. My dad almost got my stepsister a ticket by saying, “I was just following my son-in-law.” The cop asked if he should give them a ticket, too, but my dad finally had the wits to stop talking.
I didn’t even get out of Kentucky before misfortune visited me. We (my two brothers were following in a car behind me) were driving through a construction area when I came upon a busted up tractor trailer tire in the highway. It was right in the middle of the lane. There was a car to the left of me and orange barrels on the right. I couldn’t maneuver around it so I just drove over it. The tire shot up from under my car and hit my brother’s windshield, scaring the shit out of him. It didn’t damage his car, but a while later I noticed that my car was extremely loud all of the sudden. After vacation I had to spend $120 to get my muffler fixed.
The worst part of the road trip was just north of Columbia, South Carolina. I happened to look up in my rear-view mirror and noticed my brother’s car was no longer behind me. I had my wife whip out her cell phone and call them to see if everything was alright. It wasn’t. They had a flat tire, but they said for us just to go on, that they had directions and would continue on after putting on the spare. Fair enough. I kept on driving.
About a half an hour later my cell phone starts ringing. I had my wife answer it. Turns out my brother’s car didn’t have a jack in it so they couldn’t put the spare on. I had to turn around and drive a half an hour back the other way. When I finally found them I had to drive another few miles up the highway before there was an exit where I could turn about.
I finally get to them. I can’t even remember how long it took to change the tire, but it was a while because there was a weeks worth of shit for three different people crammed in the trunk of the car which, coincidentally, is where the spare tire is.
So we get the spare on. I tell my brother that I remember that there was a Wal-Mart Supercenter a couple of exits up and we can go there to have the flat repaired. The tire wasn’t repairable. Furthermore, it took those tards 2 hours to replace one fucking tire. Luckily there was a Subway in the Wal-Mart so we decided to eat dinner since we were there.
We were able to make it the rest of the way to the condo without further incident, but what should have been a 12 hour journey turned into a 15 hour clusterfuck. And to top it all off, after we got home from vacation and all the cars were unpacked, my brother found a jack in his trunk. Perfect.