buzzard bait

So
So
So
Y'know, when I was in H.S. English class writing papers, one of the big things the teacher fussed about using the two words:  And, so....  She counted off extra points if we used  "And, so" anytime.  Thus, I learned to type "thus."  And "Therefore."  
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And, so, I tell this tale.
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Last Friday, the wife and I decided to go the RV Supershow in Dallas.  Friday had special rates for Seniors.  (Notice that I capitalize Seniors).  We took our own sweet time leaving - maybe getting out of here about 9 or 9:30.
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To get to our house one has to drive down a two lane highway which eventually connects with another U.S. hwy.  It takes maybe 10 minutes to get to town.  I try to drive the speed limit plus a dab.
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We took off.  I was driving about 60.  All of a sudden off the road from the left, movement.   It was a big bird - a red headed vulture . . . perhaps the term Buzzard would fit.  From the left, the bird flew across the highway.  Normally, these big birds gain some height.  He certainly was trying.
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I hit my brakes as hard as I could.  It did not good.  The bird bounced off the front of my FLEX.  It rolled under the car and I could see it lying on the road behind.  Yes, it was a hit and run.  I felt really bad that I had not anticipated the bird faster.  Wham!  One dead bird.  One big dead bird.
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It damaged my car.  The hood has a dent larger than I would have thought possible by a bird.  The dent was the size of a large plate right on top of my hood.    Today I visited my insurance agent followed by a trip by a body shop.  The guy prodded the hood.  He said it was aluminum and would have to be completely replaced.
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I will be getting a new hood on my car plus a major strip of trim across the front.  In a half thrown out thought, the car received the nickname:  Buzzard Bait.  I think I will change it back to Ruby or Flex when the repairs are done.   With that I will leave ya.  I am anxious to see how this all works out.   No, wait, there is more.
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We drove to Dallas and made a side trip to Mesquite to visit Garden Ridge.  After a quick lunch, we headed down I-30 through Dallas to make the turn up I-35.  If you have not driven this stretch, it gets pretty fast and busy with lots and lots of idiots weaving in and out of traffic.   I stayed in the right lane hoping and praying the I-35 exit would get closer.
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Right in the middle of this with about 2 or so miles to go, my FLEX made a dinging noise.  A message flashed across the screen:  Tires low pressure.  Yes, with no way to get off the road and traffic roaring forth, Low Pressure on the Tires.  This is a new invention on my cars.  A device that measures air pressure as I drive.  That is such a great bit.  BUT NOT ON I-30 at 60 mph with no room on either side and a big white truck entering the highway.
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All turned out okay.  We made it to the show.  I carry an air compressor in the car.  All the tires looked low - these low profile tires are deceiving.  I put the air comp. on one tire and let it run.  The air went down instead of up.  I stopped that game.  When we left, my right rear tire ran on 25 lbs, the left rear on 27 lbs.   We drove to Ennis' Walmart, bought a new machine and fixed the tires.  No gas station from here to Dallas has an air compressor.  
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Moral of stone:  buy an air compressor and keep it in your car.  You never know when the dash will light up and say.  "Low Pressure."
m3