Well, two apparently. But the rest of us can stand around and write blogs about it.
It’s 5 hours into our 6 hour trip, and we’ve already had one UFO (asteroid? meteor? Trapper Keeper?) thud into our windshield and now the re-tread has come off the front right tire, which caused the rearview mirror to sproing off in a very dramatic fashion. We exited the bus on the side of I-65 and landed right in the middle of a fire ant hill. Ross, the sandal-wearing preacher, noticed first. And by “noticed,” I mean “got chomped to bits.”
Our first service act? Changing the tire. And administering benadryl to our brother.
Thanks to those who know how to do this well. Keep us in your prayers.
Seriously.
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