Not a recommended way of extending your vacation.
Flying always makes me nervous. How can a huge airplane, loaded with luggage and people go so fast and so high. It just doesn't make sense to my nonscientific mind. Last week we drove to Salt Lake and then flew to San Antonio for five fantastic days with our Texas grandsons, and their parents (our son Ethan and his wife Teressa). Tuesday we made our return trip. I survived the flights much less anxious than usual. I guess I should have been saving up for later. After arriving in Salt Lake and being picked up by our ever faithful Ahlstrom transportation and lodging service (Marta and John have helped so many times when we've traveled.) we began our drive home.
Since it was a fairly early flight we contacted Neal's sister, Karen, and had her meet us at Cafe Rio in Ogden for dinner and a visit. After that we went next door to Farr's for ice cream. We were in no hurry, it was still fairly early and the weather was nice.
All was going well. We'd made it through the rush hour traffic and were blissfully headed north. Suddenly we had an abrupt change in our plans. There was a loud bang, Neal called out and the car was going frontwards, then sidewards, then careened off the freeway, down the embankment and finally stopped just eight inches from the fence. Neal was visibly shaken. I was basically dumbfounded. (More dumb than founded-- I couldn't remember much of anything I needed to over the next 30 minutes or so.) I asked what happened and Neal assumed we had a tire blow until he got out and looked. (Photos will follow.) We were grateful to good Samaritans who checked on us and stayed until the tow truck came. We ended up extending our vacation by a day. We spent the night in Logan and drove home in a rental today. Hopefully the middle of next week there will be another trip to Logan to pick up a repaired car.
There was no flat tire. But the tire was obviously nonoperational.
Talk about a close call -- we stopped no more than 8 inches from the fence.
Our Rendezvous became a trail Blazer.
The path we took.
Not a designated exit, but we took it anyway.
A daylight look at the scene of the crime.
It looks just as bad or worse in the parking lot of the repair shop the next morning as it did the night before.
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