Please reply to this email so I’ll be able to convince myself that I’m not in some kind of crazy time warp or Twilight Zone episode…
Well, bad eye sight, over medication of narcotic drugs and a habit of driving like a bat out of hell (is that where I am?) finally caught up to my Mama yesterday afternoon. Daddy and I were out in the guinea pen trying to fashion a hanging feeder out of a dog leash and two S rings when we got the call from Mama that she “was in the ditch down by Beeson’s dam.”
So off we go in Daddy’s truck (a mile down the road) – and there was Mama’s recently acquired She, on her way home from a baby shower, was perfectly coiffed and shoed and dressed on the side of the road and a WHOLE BUNCH of people had pulled over to help her. Two big ol’ boys had opened up the car door and pulled her out.SUV turned over on its side in a 6 foot ditch – and literally 100 feet of turn up ditch behind her.
Mama: I saw a car coming towards me and it was about to cross the line so I must have just run off the road into the ditch (100 feet back).
Witness 1: I was behind her and she just run right straight off the road. She never braked or nothing. She hit the ditch and gunned it – them tires were spinning a hundred miles a minute. And then the car just couldn’t go any further and turned over on its side. LORD HAVE MERCY!!
Witness 2: (supposedly the car that crossed the center line – but was ¼ mile away when she hit the ditch) We was coming up over the hill and saw her driving through the ditch and we was scared that she might be able to get out of the ditch and cross over and kill us – we had kids in the back seat. But my husband said there was no way she could drive out of that ditch and then the car just couldn’t go any further and turned over on it’s side. My husband reached in there and toted her out. LORD HAVE MERCY!!
Witness 1: Do you want me to go get your brother?
Pam: (to myself) Who are you and how do you know who my brother is?
Daddy: I think he’s mowing the pasture.
Witness 1: I’ll get him.
Pam: (to myself) Where is the vodka?
My brother, Tony, came and pondered the situation and figured it all out and took control (thankfully).
By this time the NC Highway Patrolman arrived. VERY cute and studly and in uniform and all that… – and of course I looked like a homeless person in sweats and Crocs and appropriately dressed in what you wear to the pasture to fashion a hanging feeder with a dog leash and two S rings for three guinea fowl who all they do is eat and shit and dig in the dirt. (I really do think they love me though…)
Pam: (to myself) FUCK!
So the tow truck guy comes – and HE (much more age appropriate for me) – looking pretty handsome in his yellow slicker outfit - drags the car out of the ditch. I get assigned to ride with him to deliver the car to the house. He doesn’t make eye contact and I can’t blame him.
Pam: (to myself) FUCK! WHERE is the vodka?
So the car is safely in the yard – looking worse for the wear and without a tire... Handsome tow truck guy got his $175 for towing the car a mile. Mama cried in the recliner for 15 minutes and then fell asleep. I found the vodka. Dreamed of drinks and dinner at Bella’s.
Today I called Nationwide to report the claim and answered all the questions.
Steve: Did anyone have to employ extrication measures to get her out of the car?
Pam: No, we live out in the country and a country boy just hauled her out.
Steve: (to himself) OMG, another bunch of rednecks – who do I hate enough to assign this claim to.
Steve: Were there any witnesses?
Pam: Yes, but I didn’t get their names. I could probably ask around…
Steve: That’s okay. Brianna will call you tomorrow.
So life goes on…and it could be a lot worse - Mom is fine. But, where am I? Hello???
(Ed. Note: I received this from a dear friend who lives in North Carolina. This is just a sampling of the literature I get from her on a regular basis. And she's just as colorful in person. I keep telling her she needs to write a book about a city girl returning back home to her roots in the country and the culture shock that occurs after thirty years.)