I just got back from my own personal Bible Belt tour, visiting relatives in Georgia and South Carolina.

On The Road

Thank goodness for safety latches. While trying to open the trunk (on my parents’ car, not mine) I accidently popped the hood. But didn’t realize it. Until I had been driving on the highway, at speeds of anywhere from 55 to 70 miles per hour, for half an hour. As I was bopping along to my “Best of Korea” tape, I noticed a strange thumping sound. Boom. Ba-boom. Boom. Ba-boom. I then looked directly in front of me. The hood was bouncing up and down. My first thought, “OhMyGodThisIsMyParents’CarIDon’tHaveInsuranceWhatWillHappenIfIDieNoOneKnowsMeHere.” Ironically, I was on a part of I-40 that was under construction (okay, that describes all of I-40), so there was no shoulder. The nearest exit was an eternity away.

I shouldn’t have worried. Once on the side of the road, I couldn’t actually unlatch the safety latch. Which, in theory, is a good thing. That safety latch prevented the hood of my parents’ Chrysler I don’t know what it is but a very big model car from flying into the windshield. I lifted. I poked. I prodded. I glanced under the hood. As I was bent over, in my sundress and heels, trying to figure out how to get the hood unlatched, a pickup truck with three fine specimens of southern gentlemen pulled up. “How-deeeeeee, little miss. You got a prooooob lem?” The one speaking leaned out the window, sneered, then spat his tobaccy juice. I mustered what I hoped was a sincere, not sneer, smile. No, everything’s fine. Thank you. Even with my dismissal, they continued to watch me struggle. I felt my face burning as I finally got the latch undone (good work, Chrysler). Too embarrassed just to slam the hood shut, I propped it up, bent over and began examining in earnest.

“What cha’ lookin’ for, little lady?” They were still there.

I turned sharply. With my most authoritative voice, I stammered, Just…. just, routine maintenance. As the words left my mouth, I immediately wished they hadn’t. The three gentlemen looked at each other, raised their eyebrows, and, I believe, made an effort not to laugh. Not a good one, but an effort nonetheless. “Ru-teen main-teeennance out here, in the midduhl of no-where? Why don’t chu let us hep you out?” With that, Mr. Tobaccy began to open his door, reaching out of his window and opening it from the outside.

This was not good.

I slammed the hood shut. Look-y there. Everything checked out just fine. Ya’ll have a good day now, you hear? And with that, I scuttled back into the drivers’ seat, immediately locked all doors, drove off, and never looked back.