Local news sources call them “car eating potholes.”
They’re right.
The other night I passed about a dozen cars on the shoulder of the Island Highway, hazard lights twinkling like a Christmas trees.
Then…a mighty bang and my little car limped forward making a horrible noise. Sensing something was amiss, I pulled over. A quick external examination revealed a flat tire, missing hubcap, broken mud flap and bent rim. Quite the automotive combo.
With only about a quarter charge left on my cell phone battery, I debated who to call.
Toyota Roadside Assistance proved to be more than useless. Although I answered “no” when asked if I was stranded in a safe place, I never actually spoke to a human. I listened to about twenty-five minutes of elevator music before giving up, and googling local tow truck operators.
Local businesses weren’t answering their phones, either. I later learned this was because they were otherwise engaged rescuing dozens of other stranded motorists on BC’s Highway to Hell. Apparently one tow truck driver was struck by a car that night. (See, Toyota, I told you it wasn’t a safe place!)
Eventually I gave up on society and called O.
He gathered up lights and tools and drove off into the night on that unsafe highway to change my tire and rescue me.
I got home safe and sound to begin the process of getting my damaged tire and rim repaired and decompress from my rough driving experience.
Thank you, O!
The Grey Divorcee 