Life is so busy, but from time to time one little thing will happen and then maybe another. And when your unexpected event is over, you look back and just have to go hmmm. So on this Sunday afternoon, if you have time to read a little story, I’m happy to oblige.
On October 25, I came across one of my old YouTube “Story Time” videos. I listened to it and smiled with the memory and story from 1999 and shared the video on my Facebook page. Click here to see the video from five years ago. It’s relevant to today’s story. Just an Ordinary Day in June
Four days later, I set out on a road trip to Western Colorado. I like road trips if I’m not in a hurry to get to my destination. I take in the scenery, and sometimes it’s good to get out of your surroundings and normal routine and simply see your country and countrymen. The weather was amazing those few days. It was a nice visit, and I took care of some family matters. I was set to return to Kansas City a few days later on Sunday, November 2. I was on the road before dawn and hoped to be home shortly after dark. The weather was crisp, but the sun came up in fine fashion, and I was enjoying the familiar drive – the high-desert mountains, then the canyon, and finally the majestic ski mountains. I knew from previous drives on this route that Sunday was a good day to get through Denver on Interstate 70. I made two quick pitstops the first half of the trip and was making good time. As I approached the Colorado/Kansas border, I felt a bit sleepy so stopped at one of my familiar stops in Burlington, Colorado (that part of Colorado that looks like Kansas) to walk around and purchase a drink hoping that would give me a little spark. When I started my vehicle, I immediately noticed the engine light was flashing and I felt a little jerk when placing it into drive. I had trouble gaining speed so took the next Burlington exit about a mile down the road. I did some online research, called my experienced nephew in Missouri, and took his advice to go to a nearby parts store for a diagnostic. It was Sunday with no mechanic shops open and certainly far from the nearest dealership. The young men in the parts store did the best they could, although none of them were mechanics and could only read me the code the computer spit out – possible major engine blockage. I hobbled along to the closest hotel moving east on I-70 just over the line in Goodland, Kansas. I made a quick call to AAA who told me they could send a tow truck but I needed to tell them where I wanted to go. Problem was, I didn’t have a clue at that point. I was frustrated and hot. What happened to fall? It was 82 degrees in Goodland, a far cry from the way the day began in Western Colorado, light and crisp. Although my vehicle is aging at over 87,000 miles, it has been a reliable vehicle; and the engine is still under warranty. It was about time for the Chiefs game to start, so I decided to check into the hotel, watch the game, shower, do more research, and then call my home dealership at 7:00 a.m. in the morning. I emailed people at the office explaining that I would not be in Monday morning.
I learned a few things that evening and early the next morning through my own research and speaking to my dealership in Kansas City as well as the closest one to me in Dodge City. The flashing light is, indeed, potential bad news. The vehicle had been thrust into “limp mode” to prevent damage to the engine and catalytic converter, and I needed to get to the closest dealership – but not by driving it. So a tow would have to be called. I really wanted to get the vehicle to the dealership in Kansas City, the only place I had ever taken it for service. If it needed a new engine, I couldn’t imagine leaving it in Dodge City, renting a car to get home, and then returning to Dodge City at some point to retrieve it. But it would be a 3-hour tow south or a 5.5-hour tow home east, and the price difference was astronomical, even with AAA roadside assistance who only covers 100 miles. There were other variables to consider as I assessed how much out of pocket this might be. If in fact it was a major engine failure, my tow and rental would likely be completely covered because of the 100,000-mile warranty; but if something else caused the shutdown, then I would not recover my portion of the tow bill. I reluctantly called AAA and asked for a tow to Dodge City.
As I waited for the tow in the hotel lobby, that’s when I thought again about the story from 1999 I shared a few days earlier. I would ride in a tow truck cab just like I had in 1999. But, oh so many years had gone by. Soon my phone rang. The gentleman on the line told me he was on his way. He asked several questions about the condition of the vehicle and wondered if it would start so he could drive it up on his trailer. I met him near the car and looked on with a bit of déjà vu. He looked eerily like the scruffy old man from 26 years earlier in Iowa. I had to do a reality check though. I was a scruffy old lady. I let my hair go naturally gray during the pandemic, I had no makeup on, and had on a white hoody with black sport pants. And to top that off, I had just wiped away a few tears understanding my predicament. One step at a time is what I kept telling myself. He offered to help me step high into his cab, but I was able to do it on my own. He stopped at the truck stop across the street, gassed up, washed his windshield, and was kind. He asked if I needed a drink. I declined and we were on our way. I hoped we would get to Dodge City and the tow driver would not need his own tow. His truck was loud and had racked up many miles, but he assured me it would last another 200,000 miles or so. My cell phone wasn’t antiquated and heavy like 26 years ago. I kept looking at different things and keeping family and co-workers updated along the way. The 82 degree day before had succumbed to overnight temps in the 30s, but the sun was just as spectacular. We traveled two-lane roads and miles and miles of, well, simply Kansas.
Three hours in a vehicle produced pleasant conversation. I figured out I was indeed the elder scruffy old lady. He offered an opinion on what might be the problem. We talked about our families and how he briefly lived in the Kansas City area in his younger days, and I talked about my five years in Central Kansas in my 20s. When we arrived in Dodge City (never been there before), he handled everything with the dealership then I paid him, at least I tried. The first credit card I offered was declined twice. (Oh well, what else could happen?) In my old age, I’m past embarrassment and simply gave him another one. He was a kind gentleman, much like the man 26 years ago. After he left, I looked at my phone and noticed a text message from the credit card company who declined my card. They thought it was fraud so froze the card. The dealership attendant wanted to get me a hotel room, but I insisted that I was going home to Kansas City that day with or without my car. So I simply waited in the very quiet lounge area. The only sound came from some annoying flies who seemed focused on me. Finally I picked up a magazine and managed to swat four of them. The fifth one got away.
At 4:45 p.m., the mechanic came to me and said, “You’re ready to go.”
I was shocked. “What??? You don’t need to keep it a week to replace the engine?”
“Nope.”
He did his best to explain it to me. It was a “Rom” something or other, needed a small part, and then the system had to be re-set. The bad news was, it wasn’t under warranty. The good news: I could drive it home! So I paid my bill and hit the road, first stopping to fill up on gas and of course buy a lottery ticket since it was up to a half billion. I took a two-lane highway (the one the tow driver suggested) all the way to Emporia where I found a delicious steak burger mom-and-pop drive through and hopped on Interstate 35 – not the route I had planned when I left the day before but what a beautiful four-hour drive it was all the way home. Clicking my heels, “There’s no place like home.”
This little side experience cost me about $1,000 with hotel, tow, and car-repair charges. But I also count it as something that for some reason I was supposed to do or somewhere I was supposed to be, or maybe I simply needed to pause like 26 years ago. I will never really know. One of my sons who was with me 26 years ago suggested that perhaps I should not be taking long road trips at my age. But besides scruffy, you can add stubborn to my description. So maybe I just need to buy a new car. I watched the Chiefs lose in a comfortable hotel, rode in a tow truck for three hours with someone not as scruffy as I, swatted a few flies, and enjoyed a few rural Kansas roads and small towns I had never visited. Although I missed Miss Kitty, Festus, and Marshall Dillon, I met a few other friendly faces and trust there was purpose somewhere in it all.
Every “thing” is a story if we have eyes to see.
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