Yep, that is a great big ol' tow truck backing up to load our Suburban onto it.
And there it is leaving destined to be dropped off at our mechanic's garage.
How did this all come about? Well, Papa Pea was off early one morning recently to get our resupply of fresh, raw milk products. He was about four miles from home, going up a steep grade when the truck started to lose power. He was able to pull into a driveway, get turned around and coast down the hill for a couple of miles before he ran out of "hill" and had to stop. One more try and, yippee, the truck started again, but ran for only a hop, skip and jump before stopping . . . for the final time.
He was then only a couple miles from home so called for reinforcements. I didn't want to pull him home with the big pickup truck with the 9' plow on the front so we contacted Chicken Mama who was home and available. She grabbed a towing strap and other equipment that might have been needed and soon successfully towed him home with her Suburban.
Papa Pea and Gilligan took a cursory look at the truck and after checking what they could here in the yard, decided it was probably a fuel pump or related problem.
Since our mechanic is about seventeen miles away, up and down some hills and twists and turns in the road, and our Suburban currently has little or no braking power, we decided not to chance towing it all that way.
Only way to get it to the garage was to either manually push it . . . or call a towing service. We opted for the latter.
We're hoping to hear soon what the diagnosis turns out to be. And that it's not gonna break the bank to do the repairs. Besides being an excellent mechanic, J is a good friend and will do what needs to be done to get us back in business.
In the meantime, we're not stuck without options for transportation. All will be well. Considering this is the first time in the nearly fifty-five years of our marriage that we've had to have a vehicle towed (other than towing it ourselves), we can't complain one bit.