The emergency management response vehicle had more in common with a tank than a normal truck. The tires were thick and studded, the bed was extended and filled with all sorts of ropes, harnesses, lights, and power tools – even a rack of scuba gear.
The men that drove the vehicle were used to life or death challenges.
Which made the call they were responding to that much stranger.
When they pulled up in front of the Wendy’s, they were greeted by an earthy stink hanging in the air.
“Hope that ain’t the food.” One of the men joked to the other.
The manager was waiting for them in the parking lot.
“Told the guy he couldn’t take his truck through.” He said, shaking his head.
“Was it too tall? Did it get stuck or something?” Asked one of the responders.
“Or something. Follow me.”
He lead the men around back, where the rear bumper of an H2 Hummer was poking out of a giant hole in the middle of the drive through lane.
“Gayoso Bayou runs right under us.” The manager explained. “Put too much weight on it, and the whole thing’ll give way. Shoulda paid attention to the sign.”
There is a Wendy’s here in town that sits directly atop the Gayoso Bayou, a brick and mason sewer that predates the Civil War. And it does have a sign that warns heavy trucks away from their drive through for the very reason mentioned in the story.