Prodigal Pt 1

Last week, the prodigal son returned to Savannah, Georgia. The place that I spent the formative years of my adolescence and young adult hood. The same place I escaped from and never looked back. The place that I avoid with a passion. Moms and Grandma are still there, and with some family health issues going on down there, I decided it was time to put my contempt for Savannah aside and make an appearance. But you know it wouldn't be a Rashan post unless there was some unforeseen dramatic occurrences along the way.

THE PRODIGAL SON IN SOME OLD CAMERA PHONE PICTURES

I left Atlanta Wednesday afternoon, after catching up on some needed sleep and getting my oil changed. Everything was cool on the way there. I was listening to Prince's greatest hits, sipping on a Sprite and riding down the highway with the cruise control set to 77 mph. Next thing I know my car starts vibrating. Before I could react, I hear a thud and lose control of the car. I pulled the car over to the side of the highway, (in the middle of nowhere) and notice that I have a blown out tire. Not only is the tire gone, but the impact caused a piece of the tire well to stick out. Since I had my camera with me, I decided to take a flick.

ORIGINAL BLOWOUT

So, what's a brother to do? I changed the tire and put on my spare. No big deal, although every time an eighteen wheeler sped by, I had visions of getting pancaked on the side of the road. I took off the old tire, replaced it with the donut tire and let down the jack. That's when I noticed this: My donut was damn near flat. At this point, I just wanted to get to the next exit and buy a new tire, but that was not in the cards. I drove for about 50 feet before the spare busted. I couldn't believe it. Another example of how me and cars just don't get along. So, I'm on the side of I 16, with a blown out tire and no spare. I made some calls, (no I didn't have AAA) to find a tire store that was open in the area, but apparently, in Twiggs County, GA shops close early, because nobody answered. I then had the bright idea to walk to the nearest exit to find help. 1 mile and 10 pounds of sweat later, I made it to the exit, only to find that I truly was in the middle of nowhere and there was only a gas station and a Huddle House around. I got some numbers for tow truck companies and walked back to the car. I noticed the same Twiggs County sheriff drove by me at least 4 times and never stopped to help. I guess big black guys don't need help. Finally I got back to the car and a tow truck driver came and found me a new tire and I was off.

FLAT SPARE

By this time it was about 3 or 4 hours later, and I really considered just going back home. This was an omen; a warning not to go to Savannah. Luckily, I called my big sis and she talked some sense into me. I was going to Savannah to help my mom out, so the journey continued. I finally made it to Savannah around 11 pm. The familiar smell of paper mills and ocean animals wafted in the air as I made it to my mother's house. Even at night, the humidity was oppressive and I broke out into another sweat. I was feeling nasty from all the walking and tire changing, so I took a shower and called it a night. I was in Savannah, a tourist's dream city, but my worst nightmare. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow.