So you may have read a bit about my wonderful trip to Florida on Melissa’s blog, but that is only part of the story. Looking back on my two and a half day excursion, I suppose it wasn’t really as bad as it seemed – but it sure seemed bad at the time.
It all starts with a direct flight from Des Moines to St. Petersburg with my beloved friend Bob. We have a lovely, and on time flight. At the airport we quickly pick up our rental car (a sweet Nissan Versa) and start on our 42 mile journey to the dealer in Bradenton. Once we get on the highway, I thought it might be a good idea to give him a call to let him know I would be there in about a half an hour. Here is a paraphrase of the conversation:
“Josh? This is Joe… I bought the Volvo.”
“Yeah, how you doing Joe?”
“Good, I’ll be there in about a half an hour” P.S. It’s 3:30.
“What? That won’t work! Why didn’t you call me?”
Me, dumbfounded: “I just talked to you on Wednesday… I told you I was coming on Friday.”
“I thought you would call and confirm or something. I can’t do it today. There’s just no way, I’m sorry.”
Me, still dumbfounded: “Confirm? I called you two days ago! I just flew here from Des Moines! When can I get the car?”
“How about tomorrow at 8:00? I’ll have it all ready for you to go.”
Trying to stay calm, I reason that I was going to have to stay two nights in a hotel anyway. “Fine. See you at 8.” I hang up.
So Bob and I decide to make the best of it. We drive to the rental car place to get some more time with the car and call Melissa for a hotel room. Once that is settled, we find some food. After spending some time in downtown Sarasota, we head to our classy hotel (read sh*t hole) and settle into the moldy room for the night.
In the morning we get the car at 8:00 and are pleasantly surprised with the car and the experience at the dealer. I sign the papers and hit the road. About 70 miles later we hit Tampa and stop for some gas. Being the clumsy guy I am I drop the gas cap under the car. As I reach under the vehicle to retrieve the cap, I think to myself, “Wow! There’s a ton of room under there! Too much room. How do they power the rear wheels without a driveshaft? Those Swedes think of everything! Wait a minute…. This isn’t AWD…… BOB!!!!!!” We do some testing that involved a pile of mud and flooring the car, and determine that the Volvo is in fact front wheel drive. Time for another conversation with Josh… except this time I decide not to stay calm.
Sparing you from the conversation, Bob and I head 70 miles back to Bradenton to talk face to face. Bob has a lot of faults, but yet again he keeps me calm enough to stay out of jail (the irony comes later). Josh and I decide on a settlement to take the car for a lower price and continue on our journey home. Barbeque in Atlanta was to die for and the Smokey Mountains were beautiful. The car drove great.
After spending the night in Clarksville, Tennessee, we get ready for the final 700 miles home. We almost made it too! In Canton, Missouri, approximately 30 miles from the Iowa border, Bob interrupts my nap with a, “Oops.” I wake up to see a Missouri State Trooper approaching our car. As usual, he asks for license, registration and insurance, assuring us we will be on our way shortly. Two minutes later he comes to the window to summon Bob back to his vehicle. I wait patiently for Bob to return, but unfortunately I was surprised to see Mr. State Trooper at my window.
“Sir, your friend had a suspended license. I’m required to take him to the XXX county jail where he can be released on $250 bail. Please follow me.”
“Why do I need to follow you? Am I in trouble?”
“Don’t you want to bail out your buddy?”
No, I think. I follow him anyway.
Bob is processed and put in the cell while I wait. Out comes Mr. Trooper looking for me to come up with $250 dollars. I love Bob like a brother, but those who know him well won’t be surprised to learn that he had a suspended license – and neither was I. No way I’m paying 250 bucks for this. I politely inform the trooper who tells me Bob will need to stay until September 20th for his trial. I convince the trooper to get me Bob’s debit card, and I’ll go get the money. He agrees, but unfortunately, no money in Bob’s account. We call the Cravens – good thing his parents love him more than I do. Bail is covered and we head home.
What a trip.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I forgot to mention having to search for a hotel in Clarksville at 2 am because even though Melissa had already paid for one through hotels.com, it was overbooked and didn't have a room.
ReplyDelete