Here's the big San Francisco story in as gripping detail as I can muster:
We were driving in the third lane from the right on southbound highway 101 out of San Francisco. It was 8:30. Uphill. I applied more gas, but very suddenly, it didn't matter what speed I was trying to go. We were slowing down. I looked at Alison and said, "I'm gunning the engine," as we slowed to forty, hazard lights on, and cars sped past us at 70+ mph.
"Get over NOW," she said, and I did. But now we're in the second lane at fifteen miles per hour. Car after car swerved past us; we're barely visible on the inside of a curve.
"I can't get into the first lane! We're too slow!" And we're almost stopped.
"Get over NOW," again.
By some miracle, we got over to the first lane. We had barely gotten onto the shoulder when the car's momentum was overcome by gravity pulling us backwards downhill and the car's mechanical resistance to forward movement. We're stopped on the inside of a curve, a cement wall a foot to the right of the car, an overpass above our heads, and bigger, heavier cars passing by our left. We could feel each one shake the car. The shoulder was smaller than the car, absolutely tiny. My seat was directly above the white line.
We couldn't believe we made it out of traffic. It was nearly impossible we got that car from the third lane onto the shoulder. If we had stopped in the middle of the road, there is no doubt we wouldn't have made it out of that lane whole. A miracle. So we prayed--for safety, for clearness of thought and decision. We prayed to give thanks.
And then we realized--we weren't safe yet.
That car was still hanging into traffic, traffic was still passing with dangerous speed and proximity, and we were still in the car. We scrambled out Alison's side and away from the car, up the road, clinging to the wall on the far side of a skinny shoulder.
We got to a pull-over spot a ways down the road. Here we are, two young girls, alone at night on the outskirts of a big city.
Alison had 25% battery on her phone, I had none. We prayed the battery would last. I called AAA, my last call I could make this year. Another miracle. They tell us we will have a tow truck by 9. It's 8:35.
I call my mom on a public phone to tell her what's happened, where we are, and that we need help. I told her we don't have the battery to call everyone who needs to know--Grandpa, car owner and still fishing in Montana at this point; Grandma; Carolyn, who is staying with grandma while we're in the city; John; and Bryan.
AAA called us to say they had a driver. It's 9:20 now.
"Do you feel safe?" The woman on the phone asks, "we can send highway patrol if you'd feel more safe."
We're stranded, our tow truck is nowhere in sight. The car is hanging into traffic still. We're two young girls. It's dark. It's a big city. The heaviest thing we're carrying is an 80-piece bag if Ghirardelli chocolate, which is no sort of protection.
We ask her to please send highway patrol.
Two highway patrolmen come--the first wasn't even sent by AAA; he just saw the little red Acura and then two small figures up the road. He radioed the officer pulling up behind the integra. They decided to push my car ahead into the pullover spot in which we had been standing. The first officer told us he'd drive us back to the spot in his car.
We felt so much safer. It was such a relief. We got into the car, and Alison shoved me, hand on head, into the back seat, which was funny. We talked to the officer on the way back to our car. The officer's name was Reggie and he'd been serving for 25 years. We told him we are students at the U, and he told us he went to school in Arizona and lived with a Mormon family.
Reggie pulled up behind my car and turned on his lights. I had safe space to walk to my car. I got in and put the car in neutral. He pushed the car with his push-bumpers. That was super cool. We got the car to safety. We were then instructed to buckle up in our car and wait for AAA. We wait.
We talked about the insanity of the situation and how lucky, how blessed we were. What if the car had given out driving up Lombard, like the van in front of us which had almost run us over? What if it had happened over a bridge? What if we hadn't gotten over? We would have definitely been dead if we hadn't. What if Reggie weren't the first person to pull over? What if the car had been clipped, or if we had been rear-ended trying to get to the shoulder? All of these were not unlikely possibilities; the only unlikely thing that happened was we got out unscathed. The car was scheduled to break down that day, yet here we were, with not a scratch on us.
Finally, AAA's tow truck arrives at 10pm. We clambered into his cab and waited while he did some tow truck magic and got the car up on a towable platform. We give him the keys and sign off, ready to drive back into the heart of San Francisco.
But then, probably the happiest moment, I see Uncle John in the rear view mirror and the tow truck operator tells us we have a ride. We grab our stuff and get into John's car. That was the best drive back EVER. I have never been so happy to leave somewhere. Alison, John, and I get home at 11pm.
The car is still in San Francisco. Verdict on FLYCAST (the car) comes tomorrow morning, when grandpa and I drive back in.
Whew! So that's the story. I hope it was interesting and intense for you all, but probably more of a drag to read! The picture was one we room before highway patrol had arrived but after we had broken down. We took pictures of everything else that day, so we figured we should take a picture for that event too.
That's what Madeline's doing.
Madeline
Afternote: we gave some Ghirardelli pieces to the second officer that arrived and waited with us until John arrived. Reggie drove away after instructing us to wait in our car, but if we meet again, he'll get some Ghirardelli chocolate too.
