Ok, so maybe this isn’t really TMI, but it is an embarrassing story none the less.
My sister, aunt, 18 month old niece, and myself were in hour 14 of our 15 hour road trip from North Carolina to Michigan. We were making our way through downtown Detroit when we heard a grinding noise coming from underneath the car. My aunt pulled off on the next exit, and stopped at the first gas station we pass to inquire about the nearest service station. While my aunt was in the gas station, a man approached the Dumpster we were parked next to and urinated on it. My sister and I crouched behind my niece’s car seat in the hopes that the black half of her racial heritage would be enough to give us some street cred.
We were pointed in the direction of, I kid you not, the scariest auto repair shop you have ever seen in your entire life. From the oil-spattered walls to the tiny rottweiler puppy tied to a cinder block chewing on a styrofoam take-out tray, everything about that place gave me the willies. I accompanied my aunt to the bathroom, which was no more than a filthy commode stuck in an alcove with half of a shower curtain for a door. I decided I’d hold it a couple more hours, but my aunt was in dire straits so I gamely shielded her as well as I could as she did her best in the cesspool.
We reluctantly left the safety of my aunt’s car and crowded into the tiny office as the mechanics took a look at the car. There are two chairs in the front office, but no one sat in them. I was holding my niece when I suddenly felt a warm patch spread slowly across my hip. Her diaper had leaked. After retrieving her diaper bag from the car, we got her in a fresh diaper but I was stuck wearing my urine-soaked road-trip jammies.
That place may have been filthy, but they were quick. I don’t even remember what was wrong with the car, but they had us out of there in 90 minutes. As we filed out to the car, one of the younger mechanics grabbed my arm.
Him: “Hey, can I get your phone number?”
Are you kidding me? I thought. My hair hasn’t been washed in 2 days and I reek of baby pee.
Me: “Um, well I live in North Carolina, so I don’t really think this would work out.”
He looked at me with an exasperated look on his face.
Him: “No, I need your aunt’s phone number. In case we need to get in touch with her about her car.”
I blushed wildly and ducked quickly into the car.
Me: “Aunt Mary, they need your phone number.”