A VERY LONG STORY, WITH A HAPPY ENDING.
This is a story of two people and a dog who endured a lot over 6 days. It’s a story of frustration, creative problem solving, character, laugher, and most of all- learning to make the best of a bad situation. I tell myself that it could have been worse, heck, a lot worse. We are still breathing, life is still a sweet gift and we have each other. Today we can look back and smile at our ability to handle the “spin cycle” when not prepared. All in all, I’m proud of our little team of 3.
The story begins here. Memorial Day Weekend, May 2009.
Friday, May 22nd.
What a relief to see the weather forecast! Memorial Days can be hit or miss and the ridge of high pressure was planning on sticking around. How excited we were! We had planned a trip to Canada to a very remote lake about 6 hours away. Last year we caught giant fish, camped in a pristine area with nary a soul in sight. This year would be the same. We’d have 3 days to play on the lake, enjoy some R&R and listen to popping wood by the campfire under the stars at night. We’d borrowed the neighbors boat and were excited about Summit enjoying the lake with us, and the ability to see the fish swimming below in the crystal clear shallows. We had the boat and the truck loaded up with every camping luxury to be found- giving home a run for it’s money.
We took our time getting up there- the journey being part of the fun of the destination. We snapped pictures as we went along, talking about the fish and stopping in to local fly shops to buy more flies along the way.
Eventually, late on Friday night, we rolled on to the familiar dirt road which would take us deep into the forest. Driving in, Vil stops and rolls down his window, then looks back. “What’s the matter?” I ask. “Hmmm”, he says. “It feels like the truck is making a weird noise.”. (insert dramatic music here). A few more seconds then this happens.
The engine stalls. Vil tries to start it again, and again. Each time he starts it the truck shakes a bit, then engages, but very roughly. We turned back toward the nearest small town and hoped for the best. Once above a med-high RPM, the truck would run very roughly, but run all the same. Drop RPM’s to slow down, or stop and it would stall. We limped in to town, stalling here and there and looking for a motel. It was too late for anyone to look at it this night. We’d find a room (that took dogs) and stay in town. “Let’s hope it’s just a spark plug or something simple.” Vil says. Econolodge was our home for the night.
As we took Summit for a walk around the neighborhood, we stumbled upon an auto shop- sweet relief, we thought. Hours on the door posted open at 8am. We also spotted a GM car dealership nearby. No problem, we’ll walk over in the morning and be back on the road by afternoon at latest. Surely someone will feel pity and get us in.
Saturday, May 23rd.
We woke up early and started to discuss the day. At 7:45am Vil heads out the door and toward the mechanic shop and the GM dealer. I grab the phone book and start thumbing through the yellow pages. Fifteen minutes later Vil is back. “We’ll no one is there at Frank’s Automotive, and the GM dealer is completely booked solid. They said the earliest they could get us in would be Monday, they are closed on Sundays.” MONDAY? Seriously? No way- we were going to be bouncing around on a turquoise lake, casting woolley buggers into the shallows in hopes of catching some large trout...tomorrow. We start calling the few auto shops left in town. Most folks are not at their businesses. One local shop we found said that they could try to squeeze us in today, but if not, for sure on Sunday. It was the best offer we’d heard.. and actually the only one, so we decided to go for it. We unhitched the boat and left it at the motel, then all 3 of us limped the ailing vehicle up the road a mile to the shop. The friendly Canadian gal behind the counter assured us that the schedule was looking promising for a mechanic to see it today. There was hope! We’d be on the road this afternoon after all- watch out big fish.. here we come! What a relief. Summit, Vil and I walked back down the road a mile to the Econolodge discussing our plan. We concluded we’d check out, put all of our camping equipment in the boat and sit on the lawn outside the motel and wait until they called. Once the truck was fixed, we’d walk back up, drive it down, pick up the boat and be on our way. Tick, tock, tick tock. “What time is it now?” says my never-wears-a-watch husband. “12:30”. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Hunger sets in- but we are not without the comforts of camping. We whip out the grill, the hotdogs and the chips. Lunch is served in front of the Econolodge.
“What time is it now?” he asks. “2pm- let’s call them”. I hear the other end of the conversation “Oh, he hasn’t looked at it yet? When do you think he might get a chance? So not today?” I could hear the disappointment in his voice and I start calculating our next move. He hangs up and we both realized that we weren’t going anywhere on Saturday. So much for big fish and pristine forests. We check back in to room 126 and unloaded the boat again.
Sunday, May 24th:
“She said they’d have it on the hoist by 10am,” I reminded Vil when we woke up. Today they’d promised they’d have time to take a look. When they did, we were assured they’d do their best to get us back and trucking. Our plan was to head back home on Monday afternoon- our vacation was half over. “The question is,” Vil says with a smurk “do we go fishing when they fix it?”. “Absolutely!” I say. We didn’t drive this far only to turn around and drive home. At 11am, check out time, we once again, check out, load the boat, set up the lawn chairs and prepare for another day of sitting until the call comes in that we are ready to roll. At noon Vil decides to walk up to the shop. We hadn’t heard from them and we decided they needed some pressure to understand that we were stranded and this was rather urgent. While he was gone, I sat in the lawn chair under a tree reading. At some point, Summit winded his long leash around my chair and back around the tree. (insert clown song here)- Suddenly out of nowhere a little white dog is bounding towards us with the owner in pursuit and Summit is bolting toward it. In his wake, he knocks the lawn chair over, manages to hog tie me and my skirt flips up revealing everything underneath. Helpless to do anything because my arms are literally tied up, I lay all cattywompus, nose to the ground, buns in the air, half laughing, half crying. The owner catches the dog. “Whew!” I think. I get some slack and manage to pull myself and my red face off the ground, pull my skirt down, straighten the lawn chair and check for bruising. Two huge bruises start showing up on my thigh. “Could this get any worse?” I think to myself. The bruises are deep and painful, but I settle back into the chair and grab my book again. At about 1:15pm, I see Vil heading toward us- no truck. “What’s the story?” I exclaim, when he gets close enough to hear. “They said that they think it’s the catalytic converter. The mechanic wants to gut it and see if that will fix things. He said he re-routed the exhaust and it seems to have fixed the problem. I told him to go for it because he have to get moving here soon.” “Did they give you any indication when it might be done?” I ask with antsy anxiety. “3:30”, he says. We decide to fire up the grill and cook some lunch. Same place, different day.
At 3:00, we decide I’m the one for the job of going back up to pick it up. “Don’t come back without a truck,” he smiles and says as I walk away. I approach the dealer and see the truck’s hood is up. As I get closer I can see car parts sitting everywhere. I walk into the shop “I’m here to pick up the Ram.” The mechanic sarcastically laughs. NOT a good sign. “You won’t get far in that. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the catalytic converter. I’m going to need another day to diagnose the problem.” He’s lost interest in our car and is talking to me from under the hood of another vehicle. “Okay,” I say, trying to keep my cool. “Can you at least put it back together so we can try to get it to the dealer?”. “Yeah, give me 15 minutes,” he shouts from under a hood. We’d done some research and called around. There was a dealer about 1 hour from our location. If we could only get the truck to function in that high RPM range, we might be able to make it there. We called the dealer and they told us they thought it was likely an oxygen sensor and, while not ideal, would likely make it. 20 minutes and $200 dollars later I’m cruising into town- double footing peddles and hoping like crazy I wouldn’t stall and get rear-ended. Vil looks up and sees the truck. The joy on his face is quickly replaced when he sees that I’m shaking my head from side to side in absolute frustration. Regardless, we were happy to have the truck and be thinking of moving on. We hooked up the boat and hit the highway with the shaking, stalling truck. Twenty minutes later we are heading up a hill on a mountain pass toward the dealer. The truck is backfiring and shaking so bad that I have to remove the glass iced-tea bottle from the drink-holder as it’s making too much noise. “Clunk- BAM.” “What was that?”-I say quickly after jumping. The noise was startling. Instantly Vil responds “Shoot, we stalled!” He tries to turn the engine over, but there is nothing. Hazards go on as semi trucks pass us in the fast lane. We pull over and try to start it again. Nothing. Dead as a truck can be. Vil is remarkably calm and in control. I sense no sign of anger or frustration or short-tempered response in his voice or demeanor. Taking out his cell phone, he dials directory assistance for a tow truck to come drag us to the dealer. Because we have the boat, they tell us there is an extra charge. Nothing surprises us at this point. We get out the lawn chairs and move to the grass on the side of the freeway. Thank goodness we brought the lawn chairs! Trucks, cars, semis and trailers go zipping by blowing strong winds on our plight.
After 30 minutes of boredom, I teach him a game that I used to play as a kid. Every third car that goes by is “yours”. You can either “keep” that car, or risk it and “pass”. If you pass, the next 3rd car that comes along must be better than the one you could have kept or you don’t get a point. The one with the most points wins. We had some good laughs over old clunkers and each other’s misfortune in the game. I realized how much I love my husband as we sat there laughing in such a dire situation. Before long the tow truck shows up with the flat bed for the truck and hitch for the boat.
He gets everything loaded and we crawl into the bench seat.
I put my hand down to find the seatbelt and feel something gooey. My hand is camouflaged in black grease. “Guess I’ll pass on that,” I determine and hope like crazy this guy is a good driver. The ride is uneventful and I spend most of it looking for bears on the side of the road. We’d already seen one on the way up. Sometime later we arrive at the Dodge dealer and he drops the truck off on the street in front.
We are relieved to find a motel next door where we can spend the night. It’s no Hilton, but it will have to do. The Dodge dealer is closed. Everything will have to wait until tomorrow. The dream of catching big fish is long gone and our minds change from vacation to problem solving. What if the engine really is toast? How will we get home? A better question- how will we get the boat back? What will we do with a dead truck here in Canada? We’re hungry and need to get settled in as it will be dark soon. We put everything that we needed in the boat and unhitched it from the truck. While Vil drags the trailer and the boat, I push and we scoot it down the road over to the motel. “Guess we could just do this and walk home,” I think and the thought strikes me so funny it causes me to laugh. After checking in, we whip out the grill and start cooking dinner in front of the room on the motel lawn. This routine was becoming familiar. If all went well, we’d be back home tomorrow with the boat in tow, just in time for work on Tuesday.
Monday, May 24th:
I get up and set up the roll-a-table and cook stove. Each morning we’ve been greeted with brilliant sunshine, as they said we would. We’ve brought breakfast for camping and we plan to not let it go to waste. I get busy cooking eggs, bacon & potatoes outside the room while enjoying the sunshine. Another tenant walks by and says “What’s for breakfast” and laughs as he goes. Is he laughing at me or with me? I laugh too- the whole thing is kind of funny at this point. Vil heads over to the dealer at about 7:45 and they tell him they’ll get to the truck shortly. He comes back and we sit in the room watching Bugs Bunny. At about 9am, the phone rings. “Ok, I’ll be right over.” I hear him say. He looks at me and says “well, he said it’s the worst possible news. I’ll head over and find out about our options.” I’m in a holding pattern but my mind starts racing. I watch TV in the room with one eye on the set, one eye drifting off to problem solve. After about an hour Vil returns. “The engine is toast, just as we suspected. Here are our options. They found us a used engine and they could put it in there. It has very low miles and is in good shape. If they did that, it would cost $6,000 dollars and we’d be out of here by Friday.” “WHAT?”, I thought. Friday? Seriously? “What other options do we have?” I anxiously ask. “Well,” he continues. “We could rent a truck with a hitch and drive back, then buy a truck in the US. We can’t buy one here because Canada has import/export rules that require a 3-day waiting period. Besides, we’d have to convert everything from metric to US, which costs $500- and the trucks are way more money.” We crunch numbers to see how realistic a new truck is at this point in our budget and life. The thought of spending 6K on a used engine when the truck’s value is only 9K, doesn’t make much sense to either of us. “Wait,” I ask “What will we do with the old truck?”. Vil explains that there is a mechanic at the dealer who might be interested in buying it, otherwise we’d either have to tow it somewhere or try to fix it and drive it home. The thought of fixing it or trying to find a buyer makes me slightly nauseated. I wonder quietly how many trips we are going to have to make up here. It’s a 7 hour drive one way and exhausting to think about. We talk about every option and then I get on the phone and start calling car rental places to find one that rents trucks with hitches. Vil heads back over to the dealer to see if the mechanic really is interested in the remains of the truck. I find a truck and wait for Vil. After sometime the door opens “He wants the truck! He’s a little hesitant though because we don’t have the title with us.” he explains. We are both relieved to hear that good news, and figure we can mail the title up. Now to focus on getting home. “I was thinking,” Vil starts in, “we should just rent a car and then drive to Bellingham, buy a truck, then drive both of them back here.” “Does Bellingham have a Dodge dealer?” I ask. We’ve pretty much settled on getting another Dodge because of the features and the fold down seat in back for Summit. It seemed to fit our lifestyle perfectly and everyone was blown away that the last engine failed- it seemed to be a fluke. Besides, this would be Dodge #5 and every one of them had run flawlessly until now. “Yeah, I think so- I’ll go over and get on the computer and check.” Vil responds and heads back out the door. I secure a rental car and put my name and credit card down. We have to check out, so I start packing stuff up and loading it into back into the boat. I set up the lawn chairs again, as I know that whatever decisions we are making are not going to be done instantly. Vil returns and says he talked to the dealer down in Bellingham and they will take care of us. The courtesy van driver is on lunch, so we’ll have to wait 30 minutes or so before getting a lift to the car rental facility. We decide to eat lunch too. Out comes the grill and the camping stuff and we cook up some chicken. Vil heads out to get the rental car after lunch and I read my book in the lawn chair while Summit sleeps in the shade. Before I know it, Vil is back with a silver Mazda 3.
We drag the boat by hand back to the truck where we lock is securely and load some stuff into the trunk. We likely weren’t going to be back up here tonight as it was already getting into mid-afternoon. Summit jumps into the backseat as if on cue and the 3 of us headed off to the States. It feels really, really good to be moving again, even if it is a rental car. Halfway to Bellingham the phone rings and it’s the mechanic from the Dodge dealer. He’s having second thoughts about buying the truck because of the import/export laws. He talked to someone at the border and they gave him some information about laws that scared him and also told him it would require an inspection at the border and since truck wasn't running, he'd have to tow it down there. Vil assured him we’d make it work and that we could stop by the border on our way out and figure out what we need to do. We are secretly concerned that he might not buy the truck. It just has to work out.
Once at the border we talk to the agents and hear the confusing import/export rules.
Import rules for Canada, export rules for the US. We leave more confused than ever and decide we need to make some phone calls and get online.
The Dodge dealer is a welcome sight and they show us the trucks on their lot. None are exactly what we want, but they find us one that will suit our needs and tell us that they can have it for us by noon on Tuesday. The plan sounds fine and we decide we’ll head home. At this point, we’re 2.5 hours from home and our own bed is sounding really tempting. Besides, we could grab the title from home and do some research on trucks, border imports/exports and make sure our decisions are correct. At 8:30pm, we head for home. By 12am we are sleeping like rocks in our own bed.
Tuesday, May 26th:
We wake up, get online and start making phone calls. The news is good- we can sell the truck in Canada with only a few simple details- the rest is up to the buyer. The US is tougher and requires many hoops and details. We figure we can knock the price down lower for his trouble and entice the buyer even more. We call him and he’s excited, although still a bit hesitant. He’s pretty sure he still wants the truck and the price causes him to be even more interested. The next step is to look for a new truck. A different dealer has one with even more features than the Bellingham dealer, and we call. We tell them that we are buying a truck today and if they can give us this truck for this price, we’ll come by in the next hour and buy it. The sales guy puts us on hold and then comes back to tell us we have a deal. We head out the door. In route, Vil calls the Bellingham dealer to tell them that we found a better offer and explains the price and the features. They are gracious and accept defeat. Less than a mile from the new dealer, the Bellingham dealer calls us to tell us they found us the exact same truck and will sell it to us for 2500.00 less. We can’t believe what we are hearing. That is 12,000 off retail and comes with a lifetime warranty which is unheard of. They worked hard for us and we tell them that we’ll head up there and buy it. We hit the road for Bellingham.
Once in town we sign paperwork and wait.
The new truck is being transfered from a different lot, so we have time to burn- about 2 hours or so. I take Vil on a visit of my childhood hometown. We go see the old duplex, looking shabby and unkept. We drive in to Roosevelt Elementary School and I recall the scary games of Dodge Ball in the gym and show him Mrs. Sockhelds room. We laugh over how you recall the bad stuff more than the good and I show him where I threw up on the playground. We drive up Alabama hill and find the house on Windtree Court where I was a small child. What was once a beautiful home is now looking more like something from a 70’s sitcom. I recall how I learned to ride a bike on the road in front and how I couldn’t stop and flew into the grass beyond. With even more time to burn we went down to visit the old historic area of Fairhaven and drove down Chuckanut Drive to Larabee State Park. We hiked down to the beach and let Summit run around and play. He was so happy to be out of the car and playing- throwing paws and play bowing us.
Finally we made our way back to the dealer, the truck had arrived! It was beautiful as we’d expected and had that great “new car smell”.
At 7pm we headed up the road to Canada for the 4 hour drive to pick up the boat and transfer the title of the old truck. Driving back up we saw 2 more bears. By 11pm we were at the rental car return and said goodbye to the Mazda 3. Luckily, the mechanic was still up and open to us dropping by the title by and signing the bill of sale at this late hour. We found his house in the dark of the night and signed and transfered the paperwork under the streetlights. Now all that was left was to go back to the old truck, clean it out
and get the boat. I was a little sentimental saying goodbye to the old Dodge, which surprised me. We had so many fun road trips and good times with that truck, plus, we were exhausted and emotions always run higher when tired.
We waved goodbye to the big white fellow and drove off into the darkness with the new truck and the boat following. What an ordeal. We were FREE!!! It was after midnight and we decided to camp instead of pay for yet another motel room. Vil knew just the place! We headed toward the lake we’d set out for on Friday and arrived to find ourselves camping completely alone in the solitude of the forest. The sunlight streamed in the next morning and we woke up to the loon songs and bird voices.
“Let’s go fishing!” Vil says. We eat a quick bite and launch the boat with Summit excitedly sitting in between us.
We’d finally made it to fishing 6 days later.
As most good stories do, this one too has a happy ending. We arrived home with no more incidents and unpacked the new truck. Finally, the ordeal was over.
