Flats and fire ants

Success! The engineless sailboat is now back from the Bahamas and in its home port on Florida’s west coast. Although we managed to make the trip without getting whacked by a major big windy thing with a name, we did get terrorized by squall after squall after squall. Some contained so much lightning that at night, it was almost like daytime. Dancing in the disco, with bolts hitting the water all around the boat, wind blasting rain sideways at us like someone pointing a high pressure hose, while we balanced on deck reefing sails.
I had been wanting a nice fresh water shower, but that was ridiculous.

We tied to the dock late at night, minutes before another massive squall screamed through. We sheltered below, snug, and laughed at it all.

The next morning, I headed north back to my own home port, after clearing as many fire ants as I could from the interior of my car. A large group had taken up residency in the two weeks I had left the car parked in the grass. I had probably unknowingly parked in their territory, so they decided to take advantage of the instant housing. During the battle of reclaiming my vehicle, I received a few wounds in the ant carnage I caused, but was by and large the victor. When I drove away with a few prisoners of war, I was headed for the scenic drive through the mountains. But the behavior of the car convinced me to alter my course to head for the more populated interstate 95, rather than deserted 81 with all those big hills. This turned out to be a good call, as the wobble in the front end worsened with each mile.

In the middle of South Carolina, the passenger's side front tire blew into shreds. Despite darkness and vehicles whizzing by at 800 mph, within minutes, I managed to replace the carnage with the donut, which itself wasn’t looking too healthy. I could see this pathetic excuse of a spare wouldn’t carry me far, so called AAA and located the nearest tire repair place, planning to drive there and sleep in the car with the remaining fire ants to keep me company. That way I would be the first in line when the shop opened in the morning. I almost made it, too, crawling along at 20 mph, when the donut broke. Always willing to experiment, I tried driving on the rim until that completely crumpled as well.

Thank heavens for AAA, and cheap digs nearby, where the tow truck driver insisted on taking me after dropping my car at the repair shop. It was now well after midnight, and I thought about walking back to the car after he dropped me off, wanting to save the cost of the motel. But the room rate was good, and the allure of a real shower and sleeping without fire ants was too strong.

I was on the repair shop’s doorstep before they opened at 7, and was on my way all repaired by 8:30.
Mechanic: “Have you been offroading this car?” Me: “Well, uh….maybe.”
My former vehicle had been 4X4 with high clearance. Road, no road, it didn’t really make much difference. Lesson learned: Ford Escorts are not meant for anything other than pavement. Where’s the fun in that?

My plan of driving overnight to avoid traffic having been foiled, while parked on the nation’s capitol beltway with the other idiots, I had to appreciate the irony that it turned out to be easier to sail an engineless sailboat across the Gulf Stream in prime hurricane season than it was to get a car 1400 miles up the road.