A Toast to the Miles

It's fine to celebrate success but it is more important to heed the lessons of failure.

Bill Gates

There are only 3 colors, 10 digits, and 7 notes; its what we do with them that's important.

Jim Rohn

 The most important thing in communication is hearing what isn't said.

Peter Drucker

It is awfully important to know what is and what is not your business. 

Gertrude Stein

Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.

Maya Angelou

 What you do is more important than how much you make,

and how you feel about it is more important than what you do.

Jerry Gillies

 

If you enjoy living, it is not difficult to 

keep the sense of wonder. 

Ray Bradbury

Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday.

John Wayne

This Is My Story And I'm Stickin' To It

One of the kids wants to borrow our Celica.  It gets great gas mileage and is an older rig, a 1990.  It is a great car, and fun to drive, so it's perfect for the 45 mile commute he will be making every day.  For three years it's been sitting in the pasture, too good to sell, too rattly to drive up and down our lane.  Jerry backed into it in the dark one night when he came home with his pickup and didn't know it was parked in front of the garage.  Tail lights were about five hundred dollars, and we replaced them, but left the other damage.  The hatchback doesn't close exactly, but it isn't too bad, very driveable.  One day I left it parked on a slope, in neutral, while I went in the house for something.  A few moments later I went outside to get in the car, but it wasn't there.  Puzzled, I did a double take at my empty parking lot, and then looked up to see the car sitting on the other side of the neighbor's broken barbed wire fence.  Checking the damage, I was sad to see it had the marks of the barbed wire in ripped,  jagged lines in the paint up the hood and over the top.  Imagine fingernails on a chalk board. 

Long story short, we hadn't driven the car for awhile, so it needed a new battery.  And then plans changed, kids came up with another solution, so it sat for a few more months.  So, this week when we found out the car would be needed, the plan was to drive it to Bozeman for a rendevous with our son when we get back from Phoenix on Sunday evening. Jerry charged up the battery and we drove it to Powell last evening for it's first voyage in awhile.  It seemed to be running fine, but I remarked that the battery light was on.  Jerry was a little puzzled, and  said he hoped it would start when we were ready to leave.  It started with no problem.  Then we stopped at the grocery store and the engine died before I shut off the key.  We picked up a couple of frozen pizzas and a jar of sauerkraut.  As I turned the key in the ignition, the engine made one unenthusiastic little chug and refused to turn over.  Jerry said to let it sit for a couple of minutes.  The next try was a little better, but didn't start the engine. Our friends, John and Myrna were parked next to us, and when they saw Jerry put the hood of the car up to check the battery they offered to help do a push start.  And we were off!  In first gear, Jerry hopped in the passenger seat, second gear, all was well - third, fourth, going okay.  Jerry asked me about the battery light.  On, and jumpy engine.  Tried third gear.  Ran smoothly. Made it another mile or so until we began losing power, and losing power, and then things smelled hot.  Mentioning the burning, smoky smell, still losing power, I asked my co-pilot for advice.  He strongly suggested that we should stop.  

"Are you sure?" I asked. 

Yes, he was sure.  Very sure.

Up went the hood, out, magically, came a screw driver.   Jerry got out his (handy) flashlight and checked the battery terminals. Poke, poke, poke.   No response from the starter.  Down went the hood.  Arms flailing, mosquitoes gathering in for the kill, we were glad to see a Highway Patrol officer come to our aid.  Yes, this is part of our job description, says he. I slapped at a very quick and bloody mosquito on my leg while the officer moved the contents of a seat to the trunk in honor of my occupancy in the caged back seat with no interior door handles.  What was it like back there, Jerry wanted to know later.  

"Does the cage go all the way to the floor?"  

Well, I can't say I was looking for a way out, and it was dark, so I really don't know.  I guess I'll have to pay more attention next time.  And yes, I have ridden in that seat before, so yes, I knew that the rear door didn't have a handle, and I knew I couldn't get out of the vehicle without someone opening it from the outside.  

"When did you ride there before?" Jerry asked. 

"The morning of the accident."

No need to explain further  Back home, we moved into action.  I tried to find the trailer tabs so it was legal.  They expired the end of last month.  I explained to my doubtful husband that we would probably just get a warning if they noticed and then used all my powers of optimism to offset the comment about a $200 fine..  Underway, he wanted to know if the correct tabs were on the pickup.  Searching through the glove box, I did not find the current registration slip, but remembered giving him tabs to update the license, so I thought so, and said as much.  

"But if you really want to know, you should stop and check."

A quarter of a mile later, he did stop, and yes, they were current. Whew.

 A half an hour later we backed up to the Celica to load it up.  Strangely, the mechanism to lower the loading bed failed to operate.  I was not, however, in danger of being kidnapped by bloodthirsty mosquitoes due to a liberal application of bug repellent.  I probably didn't smell as lovely as the almond scented patrol car, but just not having to slap at mosquitoes made me quite content to quietly wait while Jerry fixed the problem, and he sure was not showing any signs of being in a romantic mood, anyway.  As he tinkered with this, and then that, I remembered that he has another pickup and another trailer, and that we would probably have to go get it.  However, I decided, from past experience that the best thing I could do was take pictures of our adventure.  

"But not with the flashlight shining in my eyes", said he.

Now, this is no quitter I married.  Plan A didn't work, so as expected, he had a plan B.  Plan B was to repeat Plan A under the lights at the nearest gas station.  When Plan B failed, then and only then, would we try Plan C, which was jumping the car with jumper cables that he had thought to put in.  Opps, guess the key to start the car is missing.  Yes, we had it when we left in the officer's vehicle.  The only option remaining for Plan C was driving back to Cody for the other truck and trailer, because with the trailer mechanism not working, he would not be able to detach the trailer from the pickup.

 Thus, with Plan C/D in action, we drove the rollback container truck to Powell, with the key to the car which I had triumphantly produced as expected from the pocket of his jeans.  It was now well after 11 p.m., so our brains were getting a little foggy.  Nevertheless, we pressed on, or rather, Jerry did, while I dazedly rode along, with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, knowing that sometimes you simply have to persevere through each obstacle because somehow if you just keep trying, things happen.

All went smoothly.  Bed of truck rolled back as it should.  Chain was attached under the car on both sides.  Cable was attached to the chain.  Triangle appeared as the chain tightened.  The car was pulled gently up the sloped bed.  I sat in the car to turn the wheels and guide it to the middle of the bed but otherwise feeling that relaxed sensation of  letting hydralics do all the work, of just being along for the ride, slow, and easy.  One last ride, and then rest.  Jerry said he would wait until morning to find out what was wrong.  He thought it was probably a loose wire, but when we backed in next to the shop he said he wouldn't be able to sleep until he checked the wire, so he sent me off to bed.

Only someone who has experienced much trouble can possibly deeply appreciate when things go so right.

It wasn't the loose wire.  The alternator didn't pass it's Carquest Test, and there were none available in Cody or Powell, but we found out there was one at Napa Distribution in Billings. The New Plan, I learned,  was to charge up the battery for an hour, leave early for our flight with both cars, me following, and then take off driving it to Billings, pick up the new alternator, install it, and catch our evening flight for Arizona.  I took a leisurely pace since we had, it seemed, plenty of time.  Jerry was in the usual panic about time, so he left earlier than I.  All along the way, I half expected to hear my phone ringing to tell me how far he had gotten, but other than waiting nervously for a pilot car on a stretch of chip-sealing, the miles passed uneventfully.  He didn't need lights, and didn't use the fan or air-conditioning, so other than being a noticeably hot drive, he was able to arrive at the Napa parking lot, where the car jerked to a stop, two hours later.  It took less time to actually install the new part than it had to wait at the counter to sort out on the computers and between the "Will Call" order that they had set aside the wrong part. One more push start - then Jerry took the car out for a drive and for half an hour it ran perfectly, until I got his call that he was waiting for me at the airport.  We hope, upon our return from Arizona, to swing through Bozeman on our way home, drop it off at a relative's house, and head for home. 

One sure thing is that through experience, we have a pretty good idea of what happens when alternators fail.  And I have developed a theory - that the reason we love our cars, and  when we have to part from them, the sadness is due to an appreciation for years of faithful service rendered, for the miles we have crossed together, for getting us from  Point A to Point B without a glitch many times, and for when it does not happen quite that smoothly, there is gratefulness for the effort, for the easy repairs, the simple fix, for giving it their all, every time.  So we will pass on the title with a little sadness, lots of sentiment, a few stories and laughs. We have passed a few road tests together.  The propects are looking fairly good for down the road a piece.