For the second time this week, the DH and I had to rescue the son as he commuted to college. Tuesday morning, at 7:20 am, he called with a flat tire - he had hit a curb driving but got a couple miles farther down the road before he realized he had a problem. We parental units were awake but still lazing in bed at the time, so we dragged our butts up and hustled out. I dropped DH at the car, where he changed the tire then drove the car in to the garage (that we are at regularly enough that we call them our "corporate partner") for work on the tire, and I drove our son to college. And picked him up later in the day.
Today the call came at 9:00 am - thank the Gods for later classes most days! The car wouldn't respond to gas pedal, and died, under a mile from the house. Might be gas line issue. It was POURING. Took son to class, arranged for Corporate Partner to tow car in and work on it. That was 3 hours ago, still haven't gotten a diagnosis and prognosis. Or even Gnosis.
And now I need to pick the son up from college again. At 21, it's a bit odd to be driving son to and from school!
Dramatic sigh from the spoiled Middle Aged Soccer Mom.
Catch you later!