After Luke died, I took the kids to grief counseling for families. The facility was 40 miles away from our house and it was in the evening time. One night, while I was driving and just passing where Luke is buried, I noticed that my van sounded sort of funny. I thought about turning around and going home, but I decided to just go anyway. I was always making excuses not to go and I felt like everyone was asking me if I was taking the kids and were constantly telling me that I needed therapy. On our way home, I called my best-friend, Kim on the cell phone to vent. I hated going and needed to let off steam. I was in driving in the fast lane about 72 miles per hour on a dark stretch of highway. One had was firmly holding the steering wheel, and the other was holding the cell phone, when all of the sudden, my van jerked to the side and I heard a loud noise. I dropped the phone to put my other hand on the wheel, and pulled over. I told Kim that I'd call her back.
I got out of the van and walked around my van to see what had happened. I figured that one of my tires blew, and I was right. It was the rear passenger tire that blew. It knocked the molding off the the rear panel, and busted out the tail lights. It scuffed up the paint all rear panel as well. I felt lucky that nothing happened to us. I opted not to get my van fixed because it was already time for it to be retired. It was 10 years old and was very worn out.
In the last two days, I've heard about tires blowing out and causing serious injuries. Just yesterday, my mom saw a car flipped over on our local freeway. The cause of the accident was a blown out tire. The family suffered some injuries, but will make a recovery. Just the other day, there was a fatal accident from another blowout.
I'm counting my blessings again that we were safe and sound. Somebody was definitely watching over us.
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