This is a true story, as near as I can recall it.
“I just bought this van at a garage sale.”
That statement, on its face, is a bit odd, but when it comes out of the mouth of a sawed off, greasy, crewcut redneck in mechanic oxfords, wearing 1950s, army issue, black hornrim glasses, that’s been dispatched as your “professional” roadside assistance, it’s downright disconcerting.
I looked at my eighteen year old daughter and she laughed. We were stuck in a little town north of Oklahoma City called Crescent Oklahoma and my newly purchased Steem Powered SUV wasn’t starting. We’d already been offered a jump from a local retired veteran, with no luck, so I wasn’t expecting much.
He pulled his gimpy, Dollar General, discount table special, jumper cables out and hooked them up, with the same results, nothing, but a faint click from the starter solenoid, a sure sign that there were issues with the starter.
here you can see the Nice $2400 SUV before we knew it was broken down
“Well, if you tap on the starter with a hammer, you might get it unstuck, at least you wouldn’t be stuck here thirty miles from home,” he said.
“If I had a hammer,” I replied, knowing this trick can work, but can also crack the housing, rendering your starter no good for rebuilding. Before I could stop him, he’d crawled under my Nice $2400 SUV and was wacking away with a tire iron.
“Give it a crank,” came his muffled voice from under the truck, so I obliged, click. “Again!” click, bang, bang, bang, “One more time!” click.
I stepped out to ask him to stop before more damage could be done but he couldn’t hear me under the rain of blows he was pinging off my starter and anything else in the vicinity.
“Try it once more,” he said. I did. This time, there was no click, great, my rescue had broken it worse!
“Get out from under there and go, before I beat you with the tire iron,” I said.
I might have been more judicious on another day, but I’d only purchased the truck two days before, and this was supposed to be a photo safari of small towns, with my daughter, Abby, the photographer, getting ready to head to college in a few weeks.
We were headed to Alva Oklahoma, about two and a half hours from home to pick up my sixteen year old son from summer camp, and I’d had bad news the night before.
My dad, who’d been diagnosed with end stage cancer eight months ago, had lost his fight. After having a coronary incident five days before, he’d never regained consciousness and had finally breathed his last about 2:45 that morning.
It wasn’t the roadside guy’s fault. But he should have had a uniform. He should have had a battery tester, he should at least have had a magnet on the side of his garage sale purchased minivan, but he didn’t and he’d been absolutely no help, just the opposite.
So, I called roadside assistance again, and got a woman who couldn’t find me, she insisted, without the zipcode of the town, and a town of 1500 at 8 AM isn’t exactly bustling with people who know the zipcode.
I hung up and called back, somehow, magically, this representative was able to send a towtruck on its way.
The day had started off pleasant enough. There was nothing left for me to do for my dad, so I didn’t change my plans, since a long drive out of town seemed like just what the doctor would order for such a day, for someone like me.
The weather was nice, and there was a slight haze of clouds, creating perfect light. We’d stopped on main street and parked to get some shots of the quintessential Oklahoma downtown, late Victorian architecture, red bricks, and masonic symbolism. There was a bank, a drug store and two churches, just like every other town along this route.
Abby pulled out her Nikon to discover she’d left the digital storage card in her laptop, so she’d have to use her phone. We walked down the block, snapped a few photos and returned to find the dead car.
By the time the roadside assistance clown show was on its way, my wife had showed up to rescue Abigail and I settled in to wait for the tow truck. They didn’t take long to respond and a local officer parked behind us with lights rolling to provide a roadblock, as we positioned the Nice $2400 SUV and got it onto the flatbed.
My towtruck driver, it turned out, was a music producer, something I know a bit about, given my theatrical background. He also has a son that is getting started in the gaming niche on Youtube, where my son is doing quite well, moving to LA to be closer to Youtube well, in fact. So we had a nice chat.
Had I known what the rest of my adventures would be like, I might have opted for the free tow to the nearest garage. But, no knowing the quality of service, or the trustworthiness of the mechanic, I paid the additional $86 to have it towed to my house.
Thus began the saga of the starter, for the Nice $2400 SUV that Steem bought.
I’ll share the rest of my struggles with the starter in my next post, suffice it to say, there is a bum fight, and I ended up with ALL the sockets (if you ever need to borrow them) before it was over.
So, my dad died. Yeah, it sucks. But, I’m about as okay with it as I think it’s possible to be if you care about someone. He was a good man, if there is a good place beyond this, he’s there, with my mom and I know they are glad to be together. But, his widow is grieving, and so are we.
But, I want to make something good out of this, which brings me to the next phase of my quest. I’m taking the Steem Powered SUV (which needs a cool name, suggestions? Put them in the comments. I’m thinking something with STeem in, but not Steemy McTruckFace, okay?) on an epic road trip.
Six days, three thousand miles, eight states, six stops, in six cities, in six different states.
But, that’s not all. These six cities are the places I grew up. That’s right, all six of them. I went to four different grade schools, in four different states, and I was the smartest kid in class in all four places, think I didn’t have a big head?
Yeah, I did.
I’ll be visiting the following places.
- Manhattan Kansas
- Beatrice Nebraska
- Atlantic Iowa
- Sterling Illinois
- Rawlins Wyoming
- Kingfisher Oklahoma
I’m going for several reasons.
I’m researching a book on the lost art of loving our neighbor, which my dad was really good at. I’m hoping there are some clues in these places where he lived and worked.
I’m also looking to lecture about Steem, and share my life with whoever will listen in each town.
I want to make a kind of tribute to my dad, and that is part of what this is about as well.
I also just need to get out of town, figure out what to do with his legacy and this trip has been brewing in my imagination for years. Now’s as good a time as any.
So, I’ll be leaving in a few weeks, or maybe a bit sooner. I’d love your help! I know self-promotion can be a double edged sword here, but I’m hoping this book about compassion can make a difference.
I need you to upvote my posts about preparation, and along the way on my trip. Also, resteem me if you can, and leave me some comments, I’d love that.
I plan to take you guys with me as much as I can. I want to share what it was like, growing up with a midwestern minister father, moving from town to town.
It was a really great childhood. The only sad part was leaving friends in each place, but, I wouldn’t trade my experiences for anything. They made me what I am, for better, or for worse.
So, the great Steem Powered tour of the midwestern US is about to get under way and I hope you’ll join me. Thanks for reading, please upvote, resteem and leave me a comment, I love comments!