bad joints

Well, I thought I was going back to Worcester. Not so much. I was thankfully carrying my "lucky purse" when my car broke down. And you may think, "Vonda, how lucky is that purse? You were carrying it in your first accident where you almost died and now you have it again when your ball joint breaks." And my responses is "Well, I didn't die the first time around, did I? I just fractured my pelvis 7 ways. And this time, I didn't die either. See? Lucky." We honestly were VERY lucky. Had the ball joint given out at any other time, we could have been seriously hurt. We had just exited I-287, about to get onto Hutchinson Parkway when all of a sudden my car starts skidding and making weird noises, almost like a flat tire. We were already slowing down since we were on an exit ramp and pulled over to the side ASAP. On closer inspection, there are no flats but my left front tire is not rotating with the steering wheel. After two calls to 911 (because they didn't find us and forgot us after the first call) and almost 2 hours later, we are towed to the impound in Harrison, NY. From there we hop two trains through Grand Central and to Penn and to Island Park. The guy who towed us thinks it's the ball joint and tomorrow I will call to the Pontiac dealers near Harrison to see what I can have done. I really don't want to miss work on Tuesday over this since I am already missing it the next two Tuesdays for other things.

So that's two bad joints in a year. First my pelvis, and now the ball joint. What the heck!