Truck Troubles, Part....um. Well. I've lost count.

My dear friend Ashley summed up the last thirty-six hours quite well. “Does this stuff happen to ANYONE but us?”

Yeah…I don't think so.

Three stooges strike again! Starring Denise and Jennifer Parker in their recurring roles, and this time the position of third stooge goes to Ashley Young, with cameo appearances by Harry the Hauler and the Nameless Tow-Truck Guy.

I’ll try to keep this short, but I have this problem with being concise – it doesn’t work out so much for me. Anyways.

My mom’s been in San Diego for the past week, at a horse show with three horses. My horse is doing three shows in a row starting next week, so I sat this one out and stayed at home. The week in Del Mar went about as one could expect, but the real trouble didn’t start until she was driving home Saturday afternoon. An 8 ½ hour drive is easier at night when it’s cool – it’s easier on the truck, and it’s easier on the horses.

Apparently not easy enough. I got a call from her at 11:00 p.m. wherein she informed me that she was a hundred miles out of Wilton and the transmission had gone out in the truck. My automatic response was, “I’m not coming to get you.”

As an aside, this was undoubtedly a lie. I already knew that I was going to go get her – this was more of an attempt to evade the inevitable than any real refusal.

Her response was, naturally, “Well, what am I going to do?” to which I replied, “What do you want me to do? You’ve got the only truck! I can’t come get you and bring you and a trailer full of horses home with your car!”

“Who do you know that has a truck?” she asked.

“Ashley,” I said instantly.

“Then call Ashley.”

“No way, you call Ashley.”

“No, you!”

“Nuh uh!”

(We’re very mature, aren’t we?)

Jumping ahead through several repetitions of the above, complete with rude noises and mental tongue-sticking-outs, she eventually made the call herself. Next thing I know, Ashley’s calling me.

“You’re coming with me, right?” she asked.

“Of course I am,” I said dully.

Then, we got to Santa Nella/Gustine, where she was supposedly at, only to find out through judicious use of the iPhone mapping application that she was not 100 miles out of Wilton. She was 200 miles.

It took us three hours to get to her, after which we struggled to unhitch and rehitch the trailer to Ashley’s truck. This was fraught with peril, as you can probably imagine. My poor mother was so tired that she literally unhitched the trailer and drove away with the tailgate still up. I yelled, the tailgate crunched, the trailer wobbled, and I rushed forward to catch the wildly swinging tailgate that was attached by one hinge, and then, while I was holding on to the gate trying to figure out how to get the thing off, she went and did it again.

And then we spent thirty minutes trying to rewire the trailer lights to work with Ashley’s truck, during which the Nameless Tow Truck Driver came and hitched up the red truck. Then we were all set. Lights working. Truck running. Other truck on the bed of the tow truck. We were going to follow the tow truck to the nearby truck stop, then pick my mom up and continue on for home.

It’s about 3:00 in the morning at this time. And here’s the real kicker of the entire debacle.

We literally made it half a mile before the tow truck pulled off the freeway and idled in the middle of the off ramp.

“What is he doing?” Ashley demanded. “We can’t sit here! There’re people coming.”

My phone buzzed. I answered it. My mom’s voice was full of laughter, the kind of laughter you get in a situation where your options are either laugh, or have a meltdown complete with screaming and tears.

“The tow truck broke down,” she said. “It sounds like the transmission went out.”

…

…

You just have to laugh. I mean, really? Does this crap ever happen to anyone else? This is unreal.

Anyway, we left it there and went home. The drive took another three hours, at the end of which we had to unload the horses and unhitch the trailer. By the time I got home to bed, it was 7:30 and a full 25 hours since I left it. Not a huge deal, but unpleasant all the same. Then, of course, my mom had to deal with the truck we left behind, and she’s still on that trip right now, Sunday evening.

To sum it up – the transmission in the red truck went out, it took us three hours to get there, mom drove away with the tailgate up not once but twice, it took us an hour just to hitch Ashley’s truck correctly, the tow truck’s transmission went out and it took us all night to get home. My brain is now convinced it’s Monday the 17th.

The upside? Nothing caught fire this time.