Wedged Between A Headrest and A Ceiling

Like every Sunday night, I drove the half hour to feed our horses their evening meal.  I got to the farm, muddled around a bit, fed the horses and left to head home.  Completely and totally uneventful, I enjoyed the peaceful drive home.  It was as it always had been --quiet and unassuming.

As I'm driving down the windy country road in the middle of nowhere I notice that the light that indicates that one of the doors is open is on.  Immediately, I remember that my hatch didn't quite catch when I took out the bag of food.  I put my hazards on, jump out of the car, shut my door, and quickly check the back hatch.  It hadn’t been shut tightly.  I slammed it close with gusto.  I'm pleased because I didn't stop any traffic, which typically would consist of one car on a busy day.  The added pleasure is that I accomplished this without the remnants of my days littering the country roads and with no one there to witness my stupidity.

 I walk back to the front and pull on the front door. It's locked.  I have now managed to secure not only the remnants of my life, but, apparently, everything else in my car.  Obviously, no one is going to steal anything, but neither can I move, or call anyone.  As I'm wondering how many miles I'm going to have to walk to "civilization", a beat up old pick-up truck drives down the road pulling a trailer with a rusty old washing machine strapped on to it.  The car is swerving a bit, but I, naively, presume this is because I'm standing there dead center of the road waving my hands.  Kindly, if not forced to, rather than run me over, the man stops.  I quickly explain what happened.  Politely, I ask if he could phone my husband.  He looks at me like I’m an idiot, rolls his eyes, and hands me his phone.  As I am taking his phone, I notice his cup with an unidentifiable liquid has just been lowered, presumably out of my eyesight.  I phone home, but no one picks up.  Within minutes, another car comes from behind.  For this road, this is an in veritable traffic jam.  The first car pulls over to further assess the situation.  The woman in the second car asks me if I'm okay, and motions backwards as if to suggest that everything might not be really okay because now I'm in the middle of the road with two odd looking men, a pick-up truck with the rusted washing machine, and a car, running and locked in the middle of the road.  I assure that I'm fine and explain that I just locked my keys in the car.  She suggests that her and her husband drive me home.

First guy says, "No.  You do’ wanna leave dat car in the road.  The po-lease will come and then y'all really be sad."  In an effort to spare me from sadness, the husband of the woman suggests that his wife takes me home to pick up my keys.  He will stay, secure my car for any unwanted attention from the po-lease, and save me from the despair that might ensue should a police car ride by on this totally desolate road. 

The first guy kindly suggests that perhaps the back window is not locked.  I quickly walk over, squeeze the lever and miraculously, he is right.  I open it, and wave back to both cars, assuring them that all is, indeed, okay.  I then proceed to climb through the window, over three bags of grain and the tremendous amounts of garbage in the back of my car.  This would be the time when all parties involved, except me, should leave the scene.  However, they did not.  They continued to watch in amazement.

Obviously, I've not thought this process through.  I quickly recognize that perhaps I should have come up with a better plan because after I throw my right leg over the back of the seat, I find myself wedged between the seat, the three headrests and the ceiling of the car.  This is not one of my more flattering moments.  All the while, I'm merrily saying, "I'm okay.  I'm all right.  Don't worry.  I'll be fine." as if I really believe it.  This goes on for two minutes, or more.  I'm stuck and flailing my arms and legs like a turtle being picked up in the middle of a road. 

Now the third car pulls up -- a pick-up truck filled with hunters and towing a fishing boat.  Okay, now we really have a party and I am the freak attraction.  No one can get by any of the cars, yet no one is really sure what to do.  There is an overweight middle age woman stuck to the ceiling of her car, and, by all outward appearances, is okay with this arrangement.  I continue to reassure my rescuers, with that same lilt in my voice, that I'm convinced I’ll be fine.  My arms and legs are still waving frantically back and forth as I try to wiggle myself free from the rock and the hard place.  And I still look like a turtle.

Finally, I am able to hoist myself over the headrests and I land among old candy wrappers in the back seat of my car.  I open the passenger door while still on my stomach, and stick my head out slightly from the back seat, waving my hands and cheerily saying "I'm okay. I'm okay."  Sitting up, I realize that I am now going to have to get into the front seat because I don't actually know how to open the door from the inside unless I'm sitting in the front seat.  It occurs to me that this might have been something I should have ascertained prior to this situation.

While I ready myself to once again attempt this feat, the onlookers are astonished.  They peer into the back window of the car wondering why I wouldn’t just reach over, unlock the front door from inside, get out and open the front door from the outside, with whatever dignity is remaining.  As I’m not convinced that method is going to work, I decide to climb into the front seat.  This time the interior design is on my side and I am able to haul my middle age large self, sagging breasts, which, for all intensive purposes, have now become one with my stomach, into the front seat.  I right myself in the driver’s seat, open the door, merrily calling out, “I’m fine!  Thanks for stopping!  Y’all have a good day!”  They all stand together in amazement at what they have just witnessed.   I drive slowly down the country lane leaving the scene where I publically humiliated myself and watch as each driver and passenger gets back into their vehicle, shaking their heads.  I’m reminded that perhaps I shouldn’t have been quite so concerned with someone witnessing my stupidity of forgetting to close my hatch, and more concerned with my actual stupidity.