Definitely A Hatchet Murderer
by Steve West on April 5, 2011
My car broke down at an intersection less than a mile from my work. I have roadside assistance but I couldn't read the fine print on the handy card they provided. The fine print was where the number was. It was dark already and the overhead light was little help. So I called Brenda who was with the girls at the PTA fundraising dinner that I was already late for. She had the number and gave it to me and I told her I would call her back when I had made arrangements.
USAA answered the phone after a brief delay (must have been a busy day for breakdowns), and informed me that they could detail a tow truck to me in about an hour. I responded that if I was the President I could get one in fifteen minutes or less, and since I happened to know that he didn't need one they could send me his. She was not amused. One hour, sir. Fine.
So I'm sitting at this intersection with my hazard lights blinking their little asses off but still having to wave honking vehicles around. This is a very immigrant heavy area of the state and it made me wonder if they hadn't gotten to that section in the ESL class yet. It was amazing to me how many police cars went screaming through the intersection in front of me during that period. 6? 7? 12??? A pair of local city cops did pull up and help me push the sumbitch to the side of the road so as to not block traffic. They pushed it next to a fire hydrant and it made me wonder if this was a city fundraising ploy.
One hour later, the tow truck arrived. It was one of those flatbed type trucks that give your car a ride instead of those old-fashioned ones that hook and drag. Conversation with the driver was nerve-wracking to say the least. Brad is the aforementioned hatchet murderer. Or at least he seemed uninhibited to describe in great detail his anger management issues and homicidal thoughts. I was content to agree with everything he said. Yes Brad, those bully kids in High School deserve decapitation. Those teachers that gave you undeserved failing grades - water torture. I'm silently praying the whole time to help me survive this psycho ride so I can revel in the huge repair bill that awaits. He gets me to the Goodyear place and Brenda rescues me from Brad who is content to wait with me for her arrival. No no! That isn't necessary Brad, We live only ten minutes from here! So I survived the 1/2 hour drive (God, was it only 1/2 hour?), and lived to blog about it.
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