White knuckles. Yep. That would be me.
I took the girls to see The Devil Wore Prada (like any designer mom would, natch) this evening, and they enjoyed themselves. We headed home. It's a rainy, thundery, lightning-flashes-through-the-sky kind of night. And...my headlights aren't working. Surprise! The little side ones that are kind of orangish? Those work. If I put the high-beams on, I get a faint glow from the smaller set of lights to the side of the main headlamps. But those main, wonderful headlamps? Nothing.
This made for rather more exciting a drive home than I would care to experience. Ever. I was tailed by what I can only assume was a very annoyed driver most of the way through Carlisle, and pulled into an ice cream place--which was also the destination of my follower, coincidentally--and I jumped out and gushed my thanks. I have never been so grateful to be tailgated by a pickup truck with its high beams on in my entire life. Those lights shone enough so that I could see in front of *my* car. Which I otherwise...couldn't do much at all. The girls and I experimented with all the available buttons in the car there in the parking lot, consulted the manual, got out and looked at things, had some ice cream of course since it couldn't make things worse and might make us all a little more cheerful about this terrifying situation...but the things just aren't working. I get a faint glow.
I drove the rest of the way home with my hazard lights blinking - side bonus, here, is that they provided a little extra (if intermittent) illumination. The tail lights are fine. It must have been pretty confusing to be driving behind me. I found myself wishing for rude drivers: "please creep up close behind me with your brights on, oh please oh please oh please," but with the hazards on, everyone kept a respectful (and unhelpful) distance.
We made it home safely. Looks like we know how I'm spending daylight hours tomorrow, eh?