As Everett and I rounded a slippery corner on our way out of town, a vehicle approaching at right angles was unable to stop, and caught the back driver’s-side tire. The small car was carrying a load of giddy teenagers who stood awed by the drama of it all as I called police and the tow-truck driver, and arranged alternate transportation home. One look at the back wheel announced that the van was going nowhere. Considering the other driver couldn’t have been going very fast, it is surprising how much damage was done.

The wheel, torn off the axel, remained attached by wires. The tow-truck driver didn’t want to drag the tire or cut the wires, unsure whether the vehicle would be written off or repaired. He tried several methods of securing the tire, all unsuccessful, and eventually Everett and I climbed into the warm cab of his truck to wait. In the rearview mirror on the passenger door I could see the driver mouthing his frustration. Then Scott and his cousin pulled up at the corner, on their way home from work.

Scott walked across the rinky road toward the van, and I said to Everett, “Scott’ll tell him what to do.” Everett and I looked at each other and broke up in grinning guffaws; we both knew it was so. Immediately I saw Scott point toward the wheel well and moments later the tire was lifted and secured by a heavy chain and we were on our way to the body shop.

It's not looking good for my van. Might be time to break out the horse and buggy.

Everett is out in the driveway watching the lunar eclipse. It is to take 45 minutes and turn orange or red during the event. I went out to the road with him but came in after 15 minutes, cold. My “extreme cold” rated jacket (yeah, right) was exchanged disgustedly for Aunt Jean’s long mink, and the temperature wasn't an issue any longer.

It's a gorgeous evening; there is only a slight breeze outside the treed yard. However, I can see the whole show from the window in the porch.