We got towed into the nearest town and managed to get one used tire. Still need to rip AAA a new one for dropping the ball, big time. Them passing the buck to the local authorities could’ve cost us our very lives. And we paid for AAA premium membership for this? Heads will roll, believe it… Anyway, we made it to Tupelo, MS and crashed at a truck stop for the night. The good folks at the Tupelo WalMart got us rolling again with some nice new rubber for the road.
Around Memphis, TN I noticed the brakes were a teeny bit strange. Not mushy. Certainly not squeaky. I attributed it to the nasty roads, poor design (some cities should never exceed maximum density in favor of economic sustainability), and the locals’ lunchtime rush. Once we hit open road again the brakes were a non-issue.
Arkansas- hooray!!! The flatlands were good despite all the construction. Hills were fine too, but there were storms moving in as we got into the mountains. Dusk came quickly with the darkening clouds and we still had to reach the Bull Shoals area. There was a little more than an hour’s drive until we reached our temporary rental. So, here I am with a van full of two road-weary, cranky children, a pissed-off cat in a carrier, a scared little Sir Barksalot, and an aggrevated hubster who’s hollering at all of them to shut up as I try to get our overly-laden conveyance to Nirvana. Of course all this was happening on an extremely twisty high mountain road with no freakin’ guard rails or anything.
We hit a roller coaster steep hairpin downslope without warning.
Tap the brakes gently, repeatedly.
(Houston, we have a problem…)
Step on brakes firmly, strong staccatto rhythym.
Under mounting pressure, Bush repeatedly has said it is too early to pull out of the war, but he sympathizes with parents of soldiers.
Bohlen and Rebecca Bahr, also of Scottsdale, arrived in Crawford on Wednesday afternoon, where about 200 protesters have gathered since Saturday.
Much of the media attention has been on Cindy Sheehan of Vacaville, Calif., who is camped on a roadside near Bush’s ranch. Sheehan has vowed to stay put until she speaks with Bush about her son.
Casey Sheehan, 24, of the Army’s 1st Battalion, was killed in Iraq on April 4, 2004, five days after he arrived.
Bahr was not available for comment Thursday. She has a daughter stateside who is a member of the Marine Corps.
Bohlen’s son, Thor, 36, joined the Army two years ago after the Sept. 11 attacks.
“He wanted to serve his country,” Bohlen said Thursday.
She said she believes military men and women serve their country honorably.
“But there is nothing honorable about a war based on lies.” she said.
Bush went to war “knowing there were no weapons of mass destruction,” Bohlen said.
Bohlen said Sheehan announced Thursday that if Bush has not spoken to her before he returns to Washington on Aug. 31, she will follow him to the White House, where she expects to be joined by other anti-war groups.
“We want to keep the pressure up,” Bohlen said.
Update yer blogrolls…
I know we all love blogger.com and hell-o-scan so much, but I was getting tired of this platform’s instability, the outages, the “we’re updating the servers and it’ll work perfectly from here on out” crapola. I have moved to what I think is a quieter neighborhood, with lovely, soothing shades of the Caribbean to counter the hideousness of the people running this Administration.
She praises Sheehan for empowering people to speak out against the war.
Bohlen compared Sheehan to Rosa Parks, a Black woman who defied segregation laws when she refused to sit in the back of a bus in Montgomery, Ala., 50 years ago.
Did I mention we were being tailgated by two vehicles?
Smoke starts billowing from the van accompanied by the stench of asbestos.
Jam brake pedal into the floorboard, white-knuckling the steering wheel. No emergency brake.
(Oh, shit!!! Thank you Great Mother for another 24 hours clean and sober. Today was a good day. Thank you for everything, good, bad, or indifferent. Thy Will, not mine be done. So mote it be!)
Spot a clear area on an incline. Throw tranny into neutral. Stand on brake pedal. Don’t scream.
The van finally stopped forward motion at the side of a shallow ditch. The smoke was so thick that the only way I knew that there were two tailgaiters behind us was the two sets of tail lights that sped past. And the assholes never even bothered to stop. Long story a little shorter… When the brakes were done in October the mechanic didn’t bother with the calipers. They were rusty and extended. The rust flaked off into the pads, friction ensued, and **voila** Fried brakes for supper, anyone?