Let's back up to the morning in question. Today, as is every second Saturday of the month, is the club's scheduled breakfast get-together. I got up early to make Erika's birthday cake. Poor child has an August birthday so she has been either moving somewhere to start school in a different location, having her birthday away from home while on vacation, or as in the case of her 7th birthday, celebrating on a plane as it rested on the tarmac in Bombay before the continued flight to NY as we journeyed home from Malaysia. I wanted to make sure the cake was done and down to their house in Sugar Land before she and her family returned from the Adirondacks where they go each August to visit with Terry's extended family.
Anyway, back to the story at hand. We usually go to breakfast together, but as the cake was still in the oven, I told Sneed to go ahead without me. I went about making up the bed but heard some horrendous goings on in the garage and had to stop to see what was emanating forthwith. Seems Sneed couldn't get Marque in gear. No amount of the King's English or moving the gear shift worked. So, he let Marque rest, went to breakfast, came home and crawled under the car to see if he could determine the problem. Nada, no way Jose, the car wasn't going to move out of the garage. A quick call to Pete at European Auto Works, Marque's hospital of choice, assured us that a flatbed would be on its way.
Thus the story in pictures of Marque's transferal to the flatbed.
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