This hyperventilating hike in the forest was only the first of many threatening situations during this summer. Aside from my “brush” with heat and hyperventilation, it just seemed the summer was out to get me. Eventually, I became acclimated to the heat and altitude, but the summer still caught up with me when I found out that my wife had been having an affair with a co-worker, someone I thought I could trust to keep an eye on her while I was gone. Well, he did keep an eye on her, I guess.
In the middle of my time in and around Big Bear, my work crew decided to fly home for a long weekend. There were no vacation days, so flying home meant we had to work extra hours each day to make up for the time away. On the way to the airport, we had to stop at UC Riverside to pick up our Wagoneer, which had been left for scheduled maintenance the week before. When we showed up, we had to catch a plane. The Jeep Wagoneer was not ready. The mechanics assured us it would be ready. Scott, our main leader, the one who I chased up out of the canyon, joked that as long as the wheels did not fall off on the trip, any way they could speed the process would be appreciated.
Ah, humor. Sometimes it can be refreshing. Sometimes it can portend the future. I was nominated to drive from Riverside to the airport. I remember so little about things down there. What airport was it? Ah, it must have been Ontario. What I recall about the trip was an initial stretch of freeway driving at 75-80 mph. At a certain point, you exit to the right and reduce speed to 45 or so for a rather long transition ramp to the next part of the trip, which is another stretch of freeway. In the middle of that reduced-speed section, the front passenger-side wheel suddenly came off.
I was very lucky that it stayed on as long as it had. A few minutes earlier at 80 mph or later, and in traffic, who knows what might have happened? As quickly as I could regain some control and move to the shoulder, I stopped, and we all got out to survey the damage. The wheel had been caught up in the wheel well, and luckily, the hub cap had caught all of the lug nuts that had come off. The problem was that, during loosening, the wheel had worn out a large section of the threads on the wheel studs. We jacked it up and attempted to get it back on. Basically, we could only get the lug nuts at best halfway on, and some not even that far. If we went on, it would be a slow trip. But we had no choice. The real damage to the wheel had already been done.
We decided to limp into the airport if we could. If we made the flight, that would be great. If we missed it, we would just have the university put us up or send a car for us. They owed us that much after nearly killing us. I drove the rest of the way at 20 to 25 with all lights flashing. Still, people drove by honking and pointing to the front of the car as if we were not aware of the trouble. The thing was trying to shake itself apart. “OK, Thanks for pointing out the obvious!” Where were your warnings before the wheel came off? We knew there was a problem. We finally got to the airport, still in time for the flight. Scott called the university garage and yelled at them for a while. He then told them where they could pick up our Jeep Wagoneer, and that there better be a car there for us when we got back. The flight to Oakland was without any further trouble.
The main thing I remember about this weekend was a dinner with my wife and our friend (and her co-worker) Steve. It was almost like I was the third wheel. I had the impression they had been spending a fair amount of time together. She seemed happy to see me, but there was an edge to it. She was not aware of what I had been doing, and I was not really aware of what she had been up to. But Steve seemed to know quite a bit about how she had been spending her time. It made me feel like I was intruding on them. It was like I usually feel when I am the only one not drinking at some gathering. I am there, but I am not really a part of things because I do not have that drinking experience to share. They sensed it too. I was an outsider. But, in the end, I was the one who went home with her. It had to be that I was just overthinking the situation. All too soon, it was time to leave again. We said our good-byes, and before I knew it, I was meeting my co-workers for the return flight.
This return flight was the very last time I ever flew. I know I am overreacting to this, but I just can’t face getting on another plane, even now. I know there is a greater chance of being killed in a car or twenty other different ways than getting “it” in a plane. Knowing that does not help.
Our flight back started out fine. It was a beautiful day. We were wondering if the Wagoneer had gotten fixed. No one seemed to think it had, or if it had, we wondered what would fall off now. Just my luck, I finally had a window seat. The plane throttled down, starting our descent. Suddenly, we just dropped. The next thing I was aware of was hearing the engines revving back up to regain some speed and lift. From the sound and the appearance of the wings, it was quite a strain. Of course, we made it. Later as we taxied towards the terminal, Scott leaned forward so he could see us all, and said, “Well. . . That was certainly exciting.” The summer was not through trying to get me, though.
Memory is the Key 