There was no warning, it just started happening. My aunt Lynette is in town with two of her girlfriends to see Yo-Yo Ma perform with the symphony so we met them along with another aunt for dinner. It was fun and afterward they all wanted to see the Loveshack (our little cottage) so we headed for the house with the ladies following behind.
Then it happened. We ran over the slightest pothole where some unfinished road repair had been professionally left unmarked so as to test the limits of the suspension and maneuverability of various passersby and/or swallow small pets whole. Before our Jeep’s shocks even had time to recover, a sound so unnatural and frighteningly loud began reverberating through the entire neighborhood.
We pulled over quickly, partly to check things out, partly to just stop the horrific noise. It was definitely coming from the front right wheel so I got on hands and knees in front of the car while trusting Katie to let the car roll while I looked and listened. If you didn’t know what was going on it would’ve appeared as though she was trying to run over me at > 1 mph.
I couldn’t see anything so we had to tough it out. Just ahead was going to be our most difficult obstacle. Downtown. If you’re familiar with downtown Franklin, you know what I’m talking about. If you’re not, let me set the scene for you. Picture the most quaint, perfect small town village you’ve ever seen. Ok, take that scene but take out all the hardware and appliance stores, the pawn shops, and diners. Now, replace them with boutiques, gourmet cupcake shops, fine dining, expensive ice cream, high end (very) furniture stores…now you’re getting the picture. Very quaint, very posh, very white.
There's our scene. Enter the Clampetts with a Holy Mother of Pearl noise screeching from underneath the jalopy. The close proximity of all the buildings and the general quiet of the square amplified the noise even further. I’m not exaggerating—it was SO.LOUD. The villagers were already taken back by this (gasp!) American car driving through their velvety smooth streets. Now they had this noise to contend with. Normally subdued gentlemen threw their National Reviews down and ducked for cover under bistro tables, parents pulled their children closer, lovers’ gazes were broken, the stock market crashed—It was pandemonium.
To be honest, that's a bit of an exaggeration. The stock market had already closed by this point. No doubt people were stopping and staring, though. Then came the giggles. My laughing starting as we made our first turn onto the square. Katie nonchalantly rolled up our very dark tinted windows. I knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t going to let anyone recognize us. Have I mentioned how LOUD it was? Hahahaha. By the time we were stuck at the light by Starbucks Katie was laughing so hard I had to remind her to breathe. Six blocks later in our driveway our sides were sore.
Postscript: I woke up at 6:15 this morning to take the Jeep in to have the noise checked out. 10 minutes later the mechanic came back and said, “Well, I could tell you ‘you have a broken hub,’ or ‘your axle is cracked,’ but I won’t do that. Here’s your problem.” He then tosses the tiniest of rocks onto the counter.
“No charge.”
(rw)
