The Gate from Hell

I would have cried had it not been so ludicrous; picture me in a downpour wearing heels and white pants while a dragging a metal gate behind the 12-foot trailer being towed by my minivan.

First sign of trouble: a disturbing grating noise coming from behind the van as I drove to see a performance of “The Nutcracker” at Samford University. My first thought; please don’t tell me I’m dragging my gate down the street. I’m already late.

Sure enough, the black metal gate that used to be part of my fenced in back yard was hanging from the side of my trailer.

My car, which would have been the preferred mode of transport, was getting a flat fixed and oh, why not an oil change while we’re at it, and the radiator hoses replaced and the valve cover gasket, too.

Bottom line, by the time the car was done, anyone I knew that could have given me a ride to the shop was long gone (yet another drawback to being a widow–who is going to help me pick up my car when its ready????).

So, I’m forced to drive the van that has the trailer attached to it. I am physically unable to remove the trailer by myself, so if I was going to go to the ballet, it this was my only option.

As I tried to leave the driveway, the gate kept closing and I was tired of ginergly walking through the mud to prop it open, only to have it close the instant I buckled my seat belt. So I slowly pushed the gate open with the van as I drove though it. So far, so good.

Three blocks later, I notice a terrible scraping sound coming from directly behind me. The gate was caught on the door handle of the trailer and I was dragging it down the street. I wondered if my children, who were staying at the neighbors while I tried to enjoy a rare adult night out, had witnessed this fiasco. I was pretty sure if they had, they’d be hysterical by now. Should I call to make sure they’re ok?

Forget it. So I carefully pried the gate off of the trailer. And thank goodness I had the trailer–where else would I have stashed the gate? I considered ditching it in the shrubs on the side of the road, but figured some scrapper would haul it to the junkyard for a fraction of what it was worth to me.

So into the trailer it went. And although my hands were completely covered with mud, not even a drop of it stained my pants.

The ballet was great, and so was the company.

Thanks, Suzanne.