The Story of the 710

["The Story of the 710" is the first in a series of posts from our West Coast trip. I will publish them as stories come to mind. And as I have time.]

I'll let you be the judge of whether our story can match the recent crime fighting episode of mon frere. But our stories start out eerily similar. In two simple words: We're okay.

It all started with a rental at Dollar Rent-A-Car at LAX. We decided on a Chrysler Pacifica, a crossover SUV that would have enough room for all of our luggage, stroller, and carseat. It was very nice indeed (and only a bit more than a midsize car).

I started to get concerned when I tried to accelerate on the freeway, and I began to hear a clicking sound. It went away when I let off the gas. I then did the frenzied mental checklist of: transmission? - maybe; throttle? - maybe; engine? - don't think so; transmission? - I really think so. I almost pulled off the freeway, but decided to keep going a bit, as I was at my exit off the 105 to the 710 (FYI, for all you non-LA'ers out there - every freeway is called "the __" - such as "the 5" or "the 405," etc.).

Going around 50mph, I then hit the gas to bring my speed back up. Nothing. Just clicking. At this point, I hit the brakes, and the only place for me to stop, is between the split of NB and SB 710. You got it. NB traffic on my left, SB traffic on my right, and lil' ol' Dan sitting right in the middle (in the emergency lane, mind you). I pop out of the car and notice smoke. I realize I'm toast. And only 10 minutes out of the parking lot.

Thankfully, first instinct was to call 911. I did. No answer. Call back. No answer. Realize I'm not supposed to call 911 about disabled vehicles, but I did anyway. Held on- and got a person. Told them my dilemma, stressed the fact that I was in the middle of the freeway and from out of town. And she sent some CHiPs my way.

In the mean time, I call the rental company, and a very nice man said he'd send a tow truck to bring me a new car. That's nice. His first suggestion was to just drive the car to my destination (about 10 minutes off), which I was more than happy to do if I would not be held liable for any damage to the car. Being so assured, I went to crank 'er up. Nothin'. Settles that question.

Ang, mind you, is understandably shaken up. Cars are whizzing by on either side going 50-70mph. And I'm not so sure if it was the possibility of getting hit or the possibility of someone actually stopping (and the unknown) that worried her more. Either way, we prayed lots both vocally and internally.

Probably 20 minutes later, the Highway Patrol finally show up. They first ask if I have AAA, which I do, and said they'd call AAA, as they'd be faster than the rental company. Fine by me.

Then, dude comes back and says, "I want to get you somewhere safe. Let me put my push bumper on and I'm gonna push you to the next exit."

So while Chris got to sit in a squad car, I got to be pushed by one. He pushed me up the exit ramp, onto the 710, to the next exit, down a hill, and into an abandoned parking lot. While he had been pushing me, the rental company came back on the phone and said the tow truck would only be about an hour. So I told the policeman to cancel the AAA call, and then he said he had to go.

Yes, I was safe from traffic, but now I'm wondering where in the middle of LA had he left me?? I even asked if it was a safe part of town, to which he only casually mentioned that they don't get many calls from that area. That's comforting.

What was even more intriguing was that there was a Shell station across the street. "You and your wife and baby can go wait in there, if you'd like," was his suggestion. Now the mental dilemma: where do more crimes occur? Parking lots, or gas stations where there is lots of money to be found? We decided to stick in the car (and we sort of blended in. Sort of.)

Thankfully, our great friends M&S were about 30 minutes behind us, and they came and waited with us until the tow truck showed up. Switcheroo with the cars, and we were off to the hotel. Safe and sound. Oh, and when I asked the tow truck driver if it was an ok part of town, he didn't share the confidence of the police. Good thing I didn't know that first...

Personally, I was definitely more worried being on the freeway and afraid someone would stop by and shoot/mug us, compared to sitting in a dark car in a semi-dark parking lot, where at least some people were milling around at the gas station across the way.

All in all, I managed to get a free day's rental out of it. I could have (should have?) demanded more, but I wasn't up to it. So that's the story of the 710. I'll never think of that highway, nor of our first night in LA, the same.