It was a construction zone, the median was all torn up so the left edge of the two-lane highway just dropped off into the dirt. Not that that slowed down the heavy traffic on I-75 about two and a half hours south of Atlanta. Speed Week at Daytona had just concluded, and the double line of cars doing seventy-plus miles per hour resembled a NASCAR pack about to experience “The Big One”, one of those multi-car pileups that are a signature of the season-opening race. We were in the left lane, just racing along with the side-by-side parade. 

Suddenly, I saw a black object bouncing along the pavement in front of me. There was no place to go. To my left was a car-flipping drop off, to the right was a line of cars moving at speed, to my rear, well, I think the guy was drafting me.

The sound that object made as it disappeared under the front of our ’96 Dodge Intrepid was a series of clunks followed by an awful grinding noise. I held on tight to the steering wheel to keep us going straight, then flipped on the right turn signal hoping to find a gap in the stream of cars. A small spot opened up and I eased the car into the right lane and onto the right shoulder. Nobody hit me. Putting the car in “Park”, I bowed my head on the steering wheel and gave thanks to God that we had not been the cause of a “big one”, and further that we were stopped without any injury to ourselves.

I looked over at my wife, whose eyes were wide open. And I wondered how bad the damage might be. We noticed that another car had pulled off the road in front of us; it had a flat left rear tire. Coincidently, when I walked around the front of the Intrepid, I saw that the right front tire was down; and so was the right rear tire. Two blown tires and we’d made it safely out of harm’s way! I think another brief prayer ensued. Apparently, both cars had driven over the same object, which we determined was a steel wheel chock from a motorcycle-hauling trailer. Later, we saw a guy walking down the shoulder looking for something. I refrained from attacking him.

A peaceful Sunday afternoon in February, 2002, had been disrupted. The good news was that  I was a AAA member; the bad news was that I had no idea where we were. The nice lady on the phone at AAA, was trying to pinpoint our exact location. I said I’d walk south to the nearest mile-marker, and she told me to be careful. When I found the marker, I gave her all the info; two tires blown, no other visible damage.

The first guy that arrived came in a service truck, proudly displaying the AAA approved signage. He had two tires of the right size, and intended to replace them on the spot. Removal of the front tire revealed that the alloy wheel had a big chunk broken off it. The service guy asked if I had a spare, and I proceeded to unload the trunkful of stuff to get it. But when the rear tire came off, that wheel was broken too. The AAA approved service guy said he was sorry, but he’d have to send a tow truck.

Traffic had died down a little by the time the flat-bed AAA approved  service truck arrived, driven by a tall, lanky, easy-moving denizen of the South wearing a brown fedora. He expertly dragged the Intrepid up on the bed and invited my wife and I to join him in the cab of his not-too-new truck.. He calmly drove across the two lanes of interstate, through the torn up median, and headed back south. He told us he’d called ahead to the motel in Ashburn, and that they were expecting us. He dropped us off in front of the Best Western Motel, and left us standing there in front of the lobby doors while he drove off with our car. I did not know where he was going. Although we did have a phone number, and he had ours. And I was certain that AAA could track him down if we failed to hear from him.

The motel clerk was friendly and got us our room, then pointed the way to the nearby Shoney’s since it was now well past supper time. The next morning, after a restless night, we perused the brochures in the lobby. Apparently the big thing in Ashburn was the annual rattlesnake roundup. Fortunately, it was too early in the year for that event. Nevertheless, on the walk to breakfast, we kept our eyes on the ground.

The call came mid-morning. The AAA service guy from Sycamore told us he couldn’t find any matching wheels for the Intrepid. I told him that we’d take anything that was round enough to get us home to Wisconsin. He said he’d call back.

We took a leisurely walk around the city, it was a nice, old, comfortable place. I stopped at a couple of car dealerships, just to see if they had any wheels, but no luck. By early afternoon, we’d exhausted our interest in southern architecture and culture. I warned the motel clerk that another night’s lodging might become necessary.

The guy from Sycamore called to say he’d found a pair of wheels at a nearby salvage yard and asked if he should get them. Yes, please, get them, install them so we can go home. Another hour passed, then the service guy showed up to take me to pick up the car. What a relief to see the Intrepid up on four good wheels and tires. He assured me that there was no other damage. Six hundred dollars later, we packed up and headed north, and after two uneventful days of travel, we were safely home.

Sometimes life is relatively placid, full of ordinary routines. At other times, something dangerous and scary comes barreling toward you and you can’t avoid it. In both those circumstances, we can rest assured that our loving God sees what’s coming, and will carry us through it.

Jesus said, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33 (ESV)