You would think that by the time a person achieves almost 70 years of age that they would be beyond the crass, petty pleasure of I-told-you-so's. You would think that, but you'd be WRONG!
My mom didn't think it was a good idea to drive my van to California. She is a devotee of the mystical art of "hearing a funny noise", and insisted that my van was attempting to send a message. "Help meeeeeeeeeeeeee!", it said. Pshaw! I didn't hear anything, and besides, if anything happened, I have AAA.
Well, we didn't end up taking my van once my brother-in-law decided to come along. He likes his suburban-mobile too much to be without it for such an extended period of time. Oh, well, made no difference to me.
The day after we got back, John and I made a 45 mile trip to Crosby. We did our business, and started home; about 8 miles out the van started acting oddly. There was an odd noise coming from the right front tire, but it wasn't flat. In fact, the noise almost sounded like a voice calling, saying....No, it couldn't be.
We sat there and waited for rescue. How ignominious.
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