It was a good day until I headed for Arby's for supper and reading.

There's a special left turn lane there, and that is where the car decided to die. Period.

I called the cops and an officer showed up very quickly. (This is a busy location.)

He verified that it wasn't going to start or move, turned on his lights, and pushed me into a right turn and into the shopping center parking lot across the street.

Next, he went dowon the list of alternatives. Needless to say, I took the one that got my car home so my mechanic can get to it. In other words, a big old flatbed tow truck.

We won't discuss what that cost, but I was informed of the price and (fortunately) had it hidden in the dark recesses of my purse. (Must remember to replace it.)

So, the car got loaded up, and we proceeded across town to my house.

The driver was basically a local, and we chatted about our various histories etc. with respect to Slidell. He knew exactly where I live (it's in an older part of the area).

Want to be impressed? Picture a big flatbed trailer on a barely two-lane street--backing into a driveway that is a carwidth plus two people wide.

And lots of trees around.

That driving was a work of art.

Guess I'm not going in to Newcomb tomorrow.