Little Rock, AR - 1,801 miles to - San Luis Obispo, CA
“The motor is smoking!” is not something I ever want to say, but especially not when my wife and I are two hours in on a twenty-five hour drive. But, that’s exactly what rang out of my mouth while idling on the on-ramp after the exit proved fruitless of our need for a bathroom. It was one of those country exits where the only thing it led to was JB’s farm and where the Hixon’s had their firework stand when their boys were still teenagers. That’s just my best guess, but I don’t think I’m far off. No gas station in sight. In fact, there were no buildings in sight. Just us, our smoking engine, and the cars flying passed us on the interstate.
Popping the hood was like opening the oven doors after forgetting you had turned it to high broil on your toast twenty minutes ago. Smoke filled the air as the evening sun began its final decent behind us. “Is it going to explode!?” Hannah half asked, half exclaimed as she took a few steps backwards. I can’t blame her. I think everyone who has a smoking engine thinks the same first thought. I sure did, I just didn’t vocalize it. As the smoke cleared, I could see a stream of liquid pouring out of the front of the motor. Some choice words meandered through my head and exited my mouth softly. I’m not proud, but I’m not ashamed. Sometimes in these situations it just seems called for. Smelling the liquid I began to assess just how bad this was using my highly limited mechanical knowledge. Gas? No. Good. We won’t blow up. Oil? No. Well that’s good too. Coolant? …I think so. I look over and the overflow tank of coolant was bone dry. Yep. Coolant. A small amount of pride bubbled up as the coolant bubbled out. I don’t know much more than how to change my oil on my truck. But, when you’re stranded on the side of the interstate in middle of nowhere, figuring it out yourself is one of the best options. Largely because it’s on the short list of your only options.
Watching the AAA tow truck pull the Jeep up on it’s flatbed, Hannah turned and looked at me. “Now it’s officially an adventure.” I said back to her bringing a laugh of half amazement, half not really knowing how to respond. It’s easy to want to go on adventures, to step out of your comfort zone, to try something new. But the unexpected, the unknown, the unforeseen troubles along the way, that’s what can deter many a folk. The fear of the “what ifs” arise discouraging an adventure and encourage a tried and true weekend plan full of known variables. I can’t say that anything is wrong with that, but it just ain’t for me. The unknown variables are part of the adventure, you might even say it’s what makes the best adventures. It for sure makes the best stories. And that is what I want my life to be full of, stories. I hope one day that I can sit in an old rocking chair, smoking my tobacco pipe, telling stories full of adventure to a younger, wild eyed boy igniting his mind, churning up his own ideas of adventures to set forth on. One thing about adventuring is certain, it won’t go as planned. Thankfully for me that couldn’t be more true, as the tow truck’s hazard lights lit up the face of the most beautiful woman, who after meeting 11 months prior, I now call my wife.
There we were, jumping into a tow truck with no seat belts listening to the wild repo stories of Mitch, a good ole country boy from Marshall Springs, TX. It was well past dark at this point but as we bounced and careened down i30, I couldn’t help but smile. It was too ridiculous of a situation not to. But we had a plan. The plan was simple. Get towed to the nearest AutoZone parking lot and I would learn how to replace a water pump in real time by watching a YouTube tutorial. It’s amazing what kind of confidence watching a YouTube video can give you. And I was two to three videos deep by this point, so it was go time. We had another 23 hours of driving ahead of us, we weren’t trying to tack on spending the night in Mount Pleasant, TX and spending the next half day waiting on a car mechanic to get to our issue. So, for the next couple hours, Hannah held the flashlight while I removed our old water pump and replaced it with a new one. The freezing temperatures and 25 mph winds didn’t help much. But what did help was a 45 minute phone call with a very selfless mechanic who talked me through how to burp the air out of the engine and make sure I didn’t overheat the car. That man was a Godsend.
Shaking uncontrollably from the cold the engine finally began to pump hot air out of the air vents telling us I hadn’t screwed anything up too bad. To celebrate we called in an order of piping hot pizza from the Italian joint just up the road. With the heat on full blast still trying to get rid of the cold shakes that pizza tasted like a dream. Sometimes it’s the situation that dictates how good a meal really is. I think it was surprisingly good pizza for a small town in Texas, but that night, it was a pizza that seared its way into my memory for being truly incredible.
With full stomachs, motor grease still on our now warm hands, and cruising 70 mph down the interstate, our laughter echoed above Willie Nelson as he sang us westwards…
On the road again,
Goin’ places that I’ve never been,
Seein’ things that I may never see again,
And I can’t wait to get on the road again…
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