How OHIO Turned Into OH Hell No

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This past weekend, I attended a fantastic reunion in my home state of Ohio.
Let me provide some context:

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I spent all four years of high school in the marching band.
Four years ago, I thought it would be a good idea to start a Facebook band alumni page for my small town’s award-winning band.
If I was lucky, I thought 50-75 people would join.
225 people and still growing, it has become an incredible place to share stories. 
Then, two years ago, we decided to hold a reunion.
A few of us became event coordinators and coordinated it with our alma mater’s annual band competition.

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So I was on my way to the reunion with my oldest daughter when something unexpected happened. First, my I-Pass (a transponder that magically sucks money from my wallet every time I want to go anywhere in Chicago) didn’t work at the first Indiana toll booth. And, of course, someone was following me. As a result, I had to get out of my car and grab ticket.

I called Mike on speakerphone and explained what had happened. My exact words are a little hazy, but I remember saying, and I quote, “This trip is doomed.”
I had no idea how much I would eat those words.

So we were driving along, making good time, listening to some great music, and talking about Annie’s school drama, when “it” occurred.  My dashboard’s light turned on.

Like this:

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WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??
THIS IS WHY I SHOULD NEVER TAKE CAR TRIPS ALONE.
Could you be any vaguer, Chevrolet??
(said in my best Chandler Bing voice)

Soon after, the dashboard displayed the following message:

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All of this while traveling at 80 miles per hour on the Indiana toll road.
I asked Anna to call my husband immediately, which she did.
She put him on speaker, and when I told him what was on the dashboard, he said, “no worries, just check the tire when you get to the next service…”

I literally heard a THUMP THUMP THUMP RATTTTTTLE as those words left his mouth.
My car shook and swerved, and my brakes failed.
I pulled over and let my car naturally come to a complete stop after what seemed like an eternity.

We noticed a female courtesy officer pull up right behind us as we got out of the car.
I remember letting her out about a mile before me.
(UNIVERSE)
I overheard her on a walkie-talkie telling someone what mile marker we were at.
(We were about 12 miles from the Ohio border at the time.)

You should be aware that I am not good under pressure.

Did I cry?
Yep.
Did I yell at my husband on the phone?
A little.
But, as I sat in that cornfield on the side of the Indiana Toll Road, I did something unusually calm.
I prayed.
A prayer of gratitude.
For allowing this to happen here rather than on a five-lane busy road in Chicago.
Or not, as I was passing someone in the left lane.
That it happened on a gloriously sunny and warm autumn day.
Not in the rain.
Or in the snow.
That we were alive and well.
Yes, I’m shaken, but I’m ALIVE.
So I sat back, waited for the tow truck, and enjoyed the sounds and smells of that cornfield.

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When I called AAA, a tow truck arrived within 30 minutes, the tiny tire was installed on my car, and a state highway patrolman led us to the nearest dealership to have my tires replaced.

I told my friends and family in Ohio who were waiting for me what was going on as it was happening.
I texted a friend that I was in Indiana with a blown tire.
Then I posted a photo of my tire:

I was then corrected.
This is NOT a “flat tire, Kari.” This is a disaster.”

(Even the state highway patrolman said, “whoa, this is a doozy!”)

First and foremost, I want to thank the state of Indiana.
For having truly amazing people.
Second, I’d like to thank the dealership for picking up my car at 4:30 on a Friday and installing four new tires in under an hour.
If you live near Angola, Indiana, RUN, not walk, to Harold Chevrolet.

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There are two unusual/borderline creepy aspects to this whole thing.
I was on the phone with my mom last night, and we were discussing a terrible bus crash that occurred in Tennessee the day before.
The accident killed eight people after the front tire blew.

My mom tells me over the phone that she had a premonition about Anna and my Ohio trip that something bad was about to happen.
But she didn’t know what to do: if she had told me, I would not have gone or would have been frightened
I don’t think I would have said anything if I were in her shoes.

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The other creepy thing is that “courtesy officer?”
Yes, I made up that name because I didn’t know what else to call her.
Because I’ve never seen a car like that before.
But once the state highway patrol arrived, she disappeared.
I was looking one way and then the next, and I asked Anna, “Where did she go?” “I just wanted to say thank you.”
Gone.

My mother said that angels were watching over us that day.
That is something I wholeheartedly believe.
So thank you, “courtesy officer.”” Wherever you are.

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While we waited for our doomed tire to be replaced, we took advantage of the opportunity to explore Angola. We discovered a cute little antique shop and purchased a new nightstand for Annie’s room.
I had to take this picture because people were staring at us as we walked down the street with a table.
They had no idea that this was the least unusual thing that had happened to us that day.

Using the drive-thru at the McDonald’s where I worked in high school.
I got the McChicken sandwich, which I first had at THIS McDonald’s.
I sat in the parking lot, ate my sandwich, and reflected on old times.

We got to go to this cool festival/craft fair in a small town nearby.

This photograph of us was taken by my cousin. I appreciate the gesture, but to be honest, we were arguing quietly while she took it. I remember thinking that if I put this on the blog, I’d have to tell you what we were up to.
Bickering. We’d had a long weekend and were exhausted by this point.

And let’s be clear: hanging out with your mom for an entire weekend is a lot when you’re a teenager.

That scarecrow scares the heck out of people.
He’s real, and he just sits there waiting to prey on innocent people.

Did I mention I hate Ohio?

Okay, I love Ohio again.

We had lunch with my dead grandmother on the way out of town.
My grandmother loved McDonald’s, particularly the filet o’fish, so I had to indulge.
We told her about the tire of death incident, but I think she already knew.

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I didn’t have the heart to remove the reunion weekend stamp from my hand.

Despite Tire of Death, it was a fantastic time.
But on the way home, I ate my feelings because I was afraid that something bad would happen to our car again.

I love Ohio and all, but if I ever return, I might fly next time.