July
28, 2026
It
might be early to head south but I am homesick and tired of explaining why that
is. AZ is my home. Yes – it is hot in the summer. Yes, there are snakes.
However, I am certain they are not lurking around every bush waiting to attack.
I suppose there is a fair chance of being snake bit no matter how careful a
person is. I could also just as likely be mauled by a bear or eaten by a cougar
up north. I don’t hear anybody concerned for my safety in that regard! Well,
maybe my mom. She’s always warning me about the cougars, wolves and bears
around. Regardless, I have come to the realization that I no longer need to
justify the way I live my life. I want to go home and damn it…I am going home.
I
winterized my Holbrook property and headed for Emmett, Idaho. I spent the night
in Emmett at Dan and Robyn's. Emmett is only a few short hours from Halfway but
it is a good stopping off place to regroup and make sure everything is travel
ready for the long haul.
Dan’s
daughter, son in law and granddaughters were visiting from Washington. It was
great to see them all. Robyn squeezed me in a haircut that should last until I
see them again when they head south this winter.
I
won’t be going straight home from Idaho this trip. I will make a round-about
side trip through Montana and then Colorado to visit friends before dropping
south. I haven’t decided how long or where exactly I’m going. That is the
beauty of doing whatever the hell you want, when you want. I haven’t had to
answer to anyone since I was 17 years old and have no plans to start now.
July
29, 2026
I
left Emmett early morning of the 29th for Montana.
August
1–2
I
would stay and help at the August clinic on the 1st and 2nd, but would draw out
of the Kalispell shoot. The main objective was simply to keep my head down and
get through it. Observation is key. Just sit back and observe. Don't react. Not
exactly my style, but I managed it. Sometimes the best way to find the answers
you seek is to make the least amount of noise and let the silence bring the
answers to you. And the answers came most resoundingly: For me, that meant it was time to get the
fuck out of Dodge
August
3, 2026
I
left Bozeman for Colorado, intending to spend the night in Kaysville. That plan
was abruptly disrupted when the front axle dropped out of my trailer in Idaho
Falls. I am fairly certain it happened when I had to make a sharp U turn that
torqued the wheels and ripped both front axle brackets to shreds. I heard a
weird noise and discovered smoke billowing from the trailer tires. That will
ruin your day. As soon as I realized my tire was smoking, I pulled into the
nearest wide spot I could fit my truck and trailer. That happened to be the Sinclair
Gas Station: Shakas. I pulled as close to the curb as I could get to leave room
for the gas station customers and still be off the main road.
I
still haven’t decided if I am the unluckiest or the luckiest person alive.
A
deputy sheriff, Sergeant Bennion, pulled in directly behind me. Thank you
Jesus. We went about trying to figure
out the problem. All the tires were inflated but the wheel fenders on the
passenger side was tore loose and rubbing on the tires…hence the smoke. The
deputy handed me a crow-bar and sledge hammer as I went about trying to pull
the aluminum fender away from the tires. Apparently, they are not allowed to
help you demolish your own vehicle. I
should have looked more thoroughly right then but wanted to get out of the way
of the gas station and onto a vacant lot across the way. When I attempted to
pull forward – the axle essentially stayed put while the trailer tried to move
forward without it. That’s not good. The
front axle had sheared off at the brackets and essentially dropped the axle
onto the ground.
WTF
do I do now? Here I am – a trailer full of horses and dogs in the middle of a
town where I don’t know a soul. I looked at Sergeant Bennion – he looked at me.
“What do I do now?” He didn’t really have an answer. There is something of a
sequence that happens to me in situations like this. First, my brain totally
blanks out. It’s like there is nothing in there I can call on for help. I go
completely blank trying to get the gears rolling. Several minutes roll by in a
fog. Then – once it registers that nobody is going to rescue me – nobody is
going to offer advice or come up with an awesome plan…my brain clicks into
survival mode and starts to grab at straws until something finally works. Just
having a body there was enough to give me some courage. I asked the Sergeant:
You aren’t going to leave me here, right? He replied: No Ma’am. I’m here until
you figure out what to do. The first person I called was my insurance lady and
friend, Karen. Unfortunately, Karen was on vacation in limited cell service and
couldn’t offer help other than to call roadside assistance.
My
biggest concern was my horses. It was hot and they had already been in the
trailer for hours. I told Sgt. Bennion I really needed to get the horses out of
the trailer. He went into action and made arrangements for animal control to
take my horses to the Bonneville County Fairgrounds until the trailer issue was
solved.
While we waited for animal control, I called
Les Schwab. They had me send a picture of the axle and promised to get back to
me. In the meantime, Animal control showed up with a trailer to take my horses
to the fairgrounds. The lady animal control officer, Clarisse, was someone you
liked immediately. She was five foot nothing, but carried herself with
a quiet confidence, a genuine smile, and a friendly, positive presence that
immediately put me at ease. She took charge of the situation without ever being
pushy or overbearing. She
clearly knew horses. It was reassuring to feel that I wasn’t handing them off
to somebody who didn’t know a poll from a fetlock.
Officer Tom Bolleurs, another animal control
officer – arrived on scene as well. I don’t think Tom knew as much about horses
as Clarisse – but he was kind and seemed to understand that watching somebody
haul off my horses to a place I didn’t know or had never seen was…hard. I told
him I didn’t care what happened to that trailer but those horses are my life…my
family. Both the Sergeant and Deputy Tom parked their cars in such a manner
that would provide safe passage for my horses to be transferred into the other
trailer. Clarisse led Drifter and I led Jack. Probably more for my benefit than
his…I patted Jack’s neck: “I WILL
find you and I WILL come for you
Bubba…I swear.”
During
the transfer of my horses, Clarisse called her husband, Chance, an auto
mechanic. Chance promptly arrives on scene and inspects the trailer. While
under the trailer, he took a picture of the information plate on the axle that
would help anybody fixing it by providing the proper numbers for parts, etc.
Chance suggested I call a welding shop that might be able to help. I can’t
remember the name now, something like “West Welding or Main Street Welding.”
The gal that answered said they might be able to fix it but I would have to
bring it to them. When I assured her the trailer wasn’t able to move on its
own, I asked if she knew of a tow truck. She said she did – but I should call
“Patrick of Peterson Express Mobile Welding and that he could probably help and
would come to me. If not – to call her back and we’d find a tow truck. Chance
gave me his number to call if what we had in motion failed and we had to come
up with a Plan B. They had room for me and my horses if need be.
My
brain was rapidly firing on all neurons processing this ordeal while still
trying not to panic. Each imagined outcome more chaotic than the next. One path
is the realization all of this could take a week or more. How was that even
going to work? Do I move into the stalls
with my horses at the fairgrounds? Do I move in with Chance and Clarisse? At
least there would be hot and cold running water…I’ve survived off-grid. I can
do this. Another burst of neurons rushed down the path that would have me
hauling the Bison off to the scrap yard and buying a brand new BLOOMER or some
such crazy shit no one ever can afford. That’s it. A new trailer. I can
probably find an old 2 horse straight load nobody wants. I’ll trade them
straight across for a 3 horse slant with LQ. One good axle – one in need of some TLC. Who could refuse such an offer?
I
called the number for Patrick the mobile welder and that is when things began
to happen…and in a good way. Patrick asked me to take a photo of the damage so
he could bring the correct parts for the job and he would have me back on the
road as soon as possible. Simple as that. Sergeant Bennion must have registered
the relief on my face. Things were in motion. They were falling into place.
Sergeant Bennion said he would hand me over to Officer Tom and gave me a card
with his number on it and said to call if I needed anything at all. He said it
was nice meeting me but wished it had been under better circumstances. I
replied: Not me! This is a better meeting than me being in handcuffs face down
on the pavement! He laughed and said I had a good point there. We shook hands
and off he went.
Les
Schwab called back and apologized for the late response but there was nothing
they could do since my axle is a torsion axle. I appreciated the call back even
if I didn’t know what the hell a torsion axle was.
Patrick
the welder arrived and went to work inspecting the damage. Unfortunately, the
brackets were damaged beyond repair. He would need to find parts. He again
assured me before he left that he would return and get me back on the road
ASAP. Officer Tom also bade me farewell and said he would check on my horses.
He left his card and number and said to call if I had any concerns or couldn’t
find the fairgrounds that now housed my horses. That was a real possibility
since I can barely find my way out of my own bathroom at times. My fear was
that it would be dark by the time I was back on the road. I can't see shit at
night…not even a giant, lit up fairgrounds.
I
was hungry. While I waited for Patrick to return, I dropped into Shakas for
something to eat. I ordered possibly the worst chicken apple salad on the
planet but the lady making it was so nice I pretended to like it.
Still
waiting for Patrick – I unloaded the dogs and took them for a walk across the
street at a large vacant lot. I kept staring at that lot. I wish I’d managed to
limp this thing into that lot so I wouldn’t be in the way of this gas station.
Customers trying to pull in and out while navigating around a 30’Bison did not
seem pleased. What can you do? Nada.
I
receive a call from Patrick. The part he needs cannot be found in the five
places he knew of to call. They would have to order the part and it would take
a week. A week. What the hell was I going to do for an entire week? Patrick has
this weird, calming vibe about him and is apparently somewhat clairvoyant. “I
told them you don’t have a week. We have to get you back on the road today…so,
I’m going to fabricate the brackets myself. I am picking up the material I need
and I’ll be there shortly. Don’t worry – we will get you back on the road.” I
totally believed him. I was still hungry. This time I ordered nachos with extra
cheese and just smiled at the nice lady behind the food counter making someone else one of her apple chicken salads to die for. Literally...a person might die eating that thing.
While
munching down the nachos, I noticed a group of sketchy dudes lurking around the
gas-station. I kept one eye on them and one eye on my quickly diminishing
nachos. I could really use another batch of those nachos but the sketchy vibe I
got from the dudes told me to stay out of Shakas for the time being. Because it
wasn’t crowded and chaotic enough, a massive, double tanker fuel truck pulled
up across the street. He needed to fill the Sinclair tanks. Of course, I was in
his way. He stepped out of his tanker. I expected a rude confrontation.
Instead, he grinned looking over my broke down Bison: “Looks like you’re not having a very good
day.” I answered: Believe it or not – I’ve had worse and I’d rather be right
here where I am than where I was two days ago. I apologized for blocking his
access. He shrugged it off. It’s no problem – I’ll sit here until you get fixed
up. Can I help?
The
gas station manager then came out of the store to assess the situation about
the same time Patrick pulled in alongside my trailer ready to go to work. The
store manager addressed Patrick: “Hey – can you park your welding trailer
somewhere else? I understand she can’t move because she’s broke down. But if
you could park somewhere so my customers can get in and out…” A reasonable
request considering. Patrick pulled his trailer onto the road. Not ideal but
what can you do.
The
gas station manager was determined to get the fuel tanker in the lot to fill
his fuel tanks. He coned off an area so the tanker could squeeze in. The tanker
driver managed to finagle his rig between me and the cones and was nearly in
position when all hell broke out at the Sinclair Station. Several cop cars
circled the 3 sketchy hoodlums. One was taken to the ground face down. I
couldn’t help but grin: Well…Sgt. Bennion, I told you it could have been
worse…that could have been me!”
The
tanker, the arrival of an ambulance in combination with the 3 cop cars and as
many hoodlums was Patrick’s breaking point: “Let’s get the hell out of here. We
can drop that front axle and you can limp over to that empty lot on one axle.
Just drive super slow. I agreed. I don’t know how he did it, but Patrick hefted
that entire axle by himself. I am not weak. In fact, as my Grandpa Emmett used
to say: “Hey – you are pretty stout for a girl.” I still could not lift half of
the axle. I could sort of scoot it along – but Patrick said it was easier for
him to pack it himself. Hernia aside – he tossed the axle into the back of his
trailer and we limped over to the vacant lot. That act alone was like an axle’s
weight of stress off our shoulders! Now we had all the space and time in the
world.
Somewhere
between having my horses hauled off and the chaos at the Sinclair Station – ACO
Tom sent me a text containing pictures of both my horses with a note: “Tucked
away safe and sound.” That one text meant the world to me.
The brackets Patrick fabricated on the fly were a perfect fit. It was a simple matter to weld them to the axle, roll the axle under the trailer and bolt the axle to the trailer. I say “simple” like I was any help at all. Hey – I did get Patrick to accept a bottle of water. I tried to feed him, but water was all he would take.
Patrick
had me back on the road in just over 6 hours. The total charge of $612.00 was,
in my opinion – not nearly enough for his efforts. I wrote him a check and gave
him an extra $200.00 in cash. He started to object but I stood my ground: Don’t
argue with me boy…I’ve had a rough day and while I might not be able to lift an
entire axle by myself…you do not want to mess with an old lady that’s worried
about her horses and nothing left to lose.
Once
the trailer was mobile again, I went to find my horses. Google maps took me
straight to the fairgrounds. I found my horses, fed them and took the dogs for
a walk. The part of the fairgrounds with the overnight pens was far from the
rest of the main grounds. I appreciated the quiet. There was no traffic and for
the first time in over 6 hours, I was not in anyone’s way.
I reflected on the day as I crawled under the covers of my LQ mattress. I don’t think of it as bad luck at all. Shit is going to happen no matter who you are or where you are. The shit that happened to me that day could not have happened in a better place or around better people. EVERYONE that came into my bubble offered kindness and support. From the Deputy Sheriff who promised not to leave me alone to Patrick the welder…skilled, calm and determined to find a solution to get me back on the road. The tanker driver who could have been rude as I blocked his way was compassionate and understanding. The animal control officers who took good care of my horses and made sure I knew they were safe. The AC officer's husband, Chance, who let me know that if all else failed – to give him a call and he’d help figure out some way to move my rig and horses to safety. All good people.
God does not promise smooth roads without adversity –
but he does promise to ride those roads with you and put the resources in front
of you to get down them. Mostly, the experience prepared me for the next time I
break down on the road with my critters…and there will be a next time. I now
know about Animal Control and that they can get your animals somewhere safe. I
now know about the existence of mobile welders for such emergencies. And I now
know that however overwhelmingly impossible the situation might seem – you will
get through it. You will find a solution – there is always a solution and you
will come out the other side stronger and more confident than when you entered.
I
left Idaho Falls about 8 a.m. and in no hurry. I intended to spend the night in
Kaysville, just a few hours way. I’d get a super early start the next morning
to avoid Salt Lake rush hour traffic. That plan also fell apart quickly.
The
address to a fairgrounds I was given took me to a ritzy residential area I could barely navigate
a trailer through. The GPS kept telling me my destination was on the right. The
only things on my right were private, gated entrances. I crept up the narrow
street like a lurker casing the joint. The lady behind me in the soccer-mom minivan
thought so, too. She abruptly passed to the front of me and came to a
stop…essentially blocking my way with her soccer-mobile.
She
exited her vehicle and came around to my window. I thought it brave of her, if
not a bit stupid. If I was indeed a creepy lurker casing out my next homicide
victim, she would have been accosted, wrapped in a horse blanket, and stuffed
in the stud stall of the Bison before she could holler, “Madison, grab your
cleats! We’re late for practice!”
Putting
aside my warped and slightly unhinged interpretation of situations like this –
I believe she was genuinely trying to help. “Are you OK? Do you need help?” I
assured her I was fine, tired and a little lost. Had she heard of the Heritage
Center where a person traveling through with horses might squat for the night?”
She looked around: “No, I have not. There is nothing around here of a Heritage
Center. Let me get my phone. I will Google it for you.” I said thank you anyway
– but Google got me here in the first place. If she would kindly point me in
the direction of the freeway, I would take my chances with Salt Lake traffic
…leaving her with her carpool schedules, orange slices, and the eternal hunt
for Madison’s missing cleats.
Driving
through Salt Lake in the mid-morning hours wasn't nearly as bad as I had
feared. Certainly nothing as hectic as hauling through Vegas. I heeded Dan’s
advice: “Pick a lane in the middle and stick to it.” So, I got in the middle
lane and drove through the longest city in history. It was at least forty miles
from start to finish. It might take a village to raise a child, but it takes
forty miles of city to house that many soccer moms.
Celia
called when I was nearing Mancos. They were in Delores getting a load of water
and would meet me at the 184/145 junction so I could follow them the rest of
the way in. Celia understands my directionally challenged propensity to get
lost. Pick your friends wisely and preferably one that knows how to get from
point A to point B without rerouting through Parma Idaho.
Once
safely at the Cabin Hideout – I tossed my horses in the round pen, fed and
watered the critters and crashed.
Celia
and I went to Durango for her doctor's appointment. She has a bad ankle with a
torn muscle. The doctor told her to take it easy for six weeks. Celia
understood “take it easy” as meaning she can still ride a horse if the horses
name is “Smoothie.” I couldn’t argue with that logic. We spent the rest of the
day at Tractor Supply and Walmart restocking my trailer.
Back
at the cabins, we worked a little on cleaning up an area where we could put up
a hot wire for my horses. We soon determined it was too hot to be working…and
drank beer and Fireball instead. There are worse ways to solve a heat problem
and the Fireball helped me sleep much better than I had in days.
Liberty,
Celia’s young filly and unexpected mother-to-be, was waxing up and should have
her colt any time. I stayed at the cabin and Celia slept at the main house so she
could check on Liberty every couple of hours.
By
dark it was much cooler. Nights cool of nicely in Colorado. I lay in bed
content with a slight breeze billowing through the windows of my gooseneck. I
could hear something outside huffing. I assumed it was a bear or a deer. Either
way, I decided I didn't need to know badly enough to go looking. The horses
were safe and if a bear wanted to get in bad enough – surely it would make
enough noise to wake me up in the attempt.
August
6, 2026
We
went after another load of water. I don't know why I get such a kick out of
that. Maybe it's because you get so much water for a quarter. Like... gallons
and gallons of water for one quarter! It's like what penny candy used to be. We
did the math and remarkably – you get a gallon of water for less than .01 cent.
I am still in awe.
I
set up a hot fence for the horses, encircling an island of trees Celia wanted
eaten down. There was a portable carport on the island that we had to take
apart first. The horses are happy to have some trees overhead and browse to
munch on.
It
is still pretty hot here in the afternoons, so we get things done during the
morning hours and watch "The Last Frontier" in the afternoon.
I
was also feeling like I was getting a head cold. I was about to sneeze myself
to death, so I took a Benadryl before bed. That helps me sleep even better than
Fireball but leaves me groggy the entire next day. Fireball wins.
August
7, 2026
I
slept pretty well with the Benadryl in me. Same routine. Get up, feed the
critters, fry some bacon, and have a cup of mushroom coffee. For some reason, I
tried to make myself like real coffee. I bet I spent a good part of a year
trying to manufacture the perfect cup from traditional drip coffee to cowboy
coffee with an egg. I even tried one of those fancy French press jobbies that
all the coffee-snobs rave about. In the end – the only coffee I can stomach is
the instant coffee you buy in the little packets at the dollar store. Go
figure. Other than that, I drink mushroom coffee. Mushroom coffee is supposed
to have various health benefits including better mental function. Given my
Kaysville experience…the jury is still out on that one.
Morning
again brought no baby for Liberty. Celia and I went about our business picking up
limbs from a tree they fell at the cabin to watching The Last Frontier in the
hot portion of the day. Late afternoon brought a text from Steve: SCORE!
Liberty
had her baby just before dark. A solid black filly. It's hard to tell what
color she might turn into, as she has sclera around her eyes and butt. Gruella
or smoky black is my guess. Currently, she's a smoky black color, especially
around the lower legs.
August
8, 2026
Doesn't
look like we did much of anything today. Maybe cleaned up limbs? I could
probably remember what we did if I drank more mushroom coffee.
August
9, 2026
Full
day!
We
rode in the morning. I rode Drifter, and Celia rode Smoothie. We rode out from
Canyon Hideout onto FS land. We covered 6.25 miles.
Afterward,
we drove around looking at different Jeeps. I have been on a mission to find a
four-door, late-'80s to mid-'90s Jeep with the inline 6 4.0 to replace
Frogenstein when I give it to my grandson. I love my Frogenstein –but frankly,
it is not an efficient vehicle for me. I take my dogs everywhere with me and
there is not room. Besides – climbing up into that thing is not likely to get
any easier as time goes on. The jeep should be driven by a young kid and used
to carry his sisters in the homecoming parades.
We
found one Jeep that seemed promising. The man, a friend of Steve’s, would give it to me for hauling it off. It
was running until he used it to pull another vehicle out of a ditch and the
reverse went out. The body is clean and everything stock. It went forward when
he parked it 4 years ago, but no reverse. Steve would see if it would fire up
and whether we could get it to somebody to determine if the tranny was shot or
if it was something that could be fixed. In the meantime, we drove around
looking at other jeeps that were listed for sale and some that weren’t! Steve
is a serious trader/finder. If you are looking for something…anything, Steve is
your guy to find it. From saddles to the horses underneath them to the perfect
jeep – call Steve. He would see a jeep parked that had obviously not been moved
in some time and hunt down the owner and ask if he could take it off their
hands. The approach has served him well.
We
went to Durango and had lunch at Seriously Texas Bar-B-Q. SOOO good. I had
brisket and cheesy potatoes. Even the iced tea was the best ever. We ate
outside overlooking the river.
August
10, 2026
We
went to Cortez for breakfast at the Ute Coffee Shop and met friends Harold and
Emily. I’ve met Harold before. Emily is a Navajo ex-law-enforcement officer for
the FS. Celia, Harold, and Emily all retired from the FS.
Earlier
in the day, Celia had a surprise visit from a very large and very skinny bear.
It
walked right up to the corrals, made its way to the house, and stopped to eat a
2 week old dead jackrabbit Steve had shot.
Too
dang close to the new baby!
August
11, 2026
Jeep-getting
day!
I
could not, in good conscience – leave without that 1989 Jeep Pioneer. It was
like a stray dog that needed a good home. Sure, it was going to take some
work…but don’t we all? The jeeps I had been looking at where averaging 4K to 6K
dollars and they still wouldn’t be exactly what I wanted. I figure I can take
that money and put it toward fixing up my new stray the way I wanted it. Jim
said he’d throw in a tranny out of a running 1990 to boot.
We
jumped it, and the thing fired right up!
The
IAC had been removed. Without it, it idled too fast to let it run. But it ran
long enough to see that the power windows worked, along with the blinkers and
other things.
It
was just what I'd been looking for. A four-door, 4WD, 4.0 straight six that was
all stock. The interior was great.
I
tried to pay Jim for the tranny at least, but he wouldn't take it. He said the whole
damn thing wasn't worth the powder to blow it to hell.
I
hope to prove him wrong!
We
ended up towing it as opposed to trailering back to Steve and Celia's since it
was only a mile or two away. After we got it parked, we drove to Cortez and
ordered an IAC that I would pick up tomorrow.
Celia
and I rode in the morning. I rode Jack, and she rode Smoothie – still going on
the premise that “take it easy” meant riding a horse called Smoothie. We rode
up to the diversion dam along the canal and covered 7.67 miles.
When
we got back, we drove to Cortez and picked up the IAC. We did some minor
shopping and headed back to install it in my Jeep.
Well
damn…it worked!
The
Jeep now purr’s like a kitten. Well…perhaps more like a weather beaten old Tom
Cat that’s been in one too many fights. He’s got scars on his chest and a torn
ear, but he can still hold his own in an alley fight…as long as he doesn’t have
to back up.
I took my new jeep for a test spin around
Boyd's property. Everything works except the reverse. Maybe not EVERYTHING. I
don’t think the AC works and from the looks of it, the heater needs a new hose.
But everything else works! OH, except the rear power windows don’t go all the
way down…or up. The back passenger door only opens from the inside – but I can
fix that. Everything else though…except for the right rear taillight is broke
but that will be an easy fix because it came with a new taillight ready to be
installed! How sweet is that?!
The
four-wheel-drive seems to be working. There are a lot of 4 wheel options I am
not familiar with. It seems this jeep can be in Part Time 4 wheel drive – All
the Time 4 wheel drive. 4 high…4 low and the regular get down the freeway in
2WD. That will come in handy if the need to outrun 40 miles of concerned
soccer-moms through Salt Lake arises.
I
can't wait to get it home and start tinkering with it.
August
13, 2026
First
thing in the morning, we went to Dolores for two loads of water. They don't
have a well at the cabins. Instead, they put in a big water-storage tank on the
hill above the cabins, and you buy water in Dolores to fill that storage tank.
It
takes two people. One to feed the machine quarters and one to hold the big hose
over the water tank.
After
water detail, we decided to pack up my trailer and horses and move down to the
main house so we could get an early start for home Friday morning. Celia was
going to haul my Jeep on their flatbed trailer. She also wanted to bring her
Jeep back from Coles in New River. Perfect.
We
stopped at the hardware store in Dolores for ice cream. From the outside of the
hardware store, you would never know that within its walls was the yummiest
hard ice cream you will eat.
I
had salted caramel. Celia had huckleberry. Just one more reason to go back for
loads of water.
August
14, 2026
We
planned to leave Mancos by 5:30 a.m. After a minor mishap with the wrong-sized
ball, we got the Jeep loaded onto the flatbed without killing anyone.
I
put it in four-wheel drive and popped it right up onto the trailer like I'd
done it my whole life.
In
truth, I've only loaded a vehicle onto a trailer a handful of times, and unlike
quarter duty, it is NOT my favorite job. I told Steve as much, and he assured
me he was ready to jump over the side if things went south.
Surprisingly,
I got it onto the trailer without the need for Steve to jump overboard.
We
got it strapped down as best we could and said a little prayer that the straps
would hold. Celia and I said goodbye to Steve and pulled out of Mancos on
schedule.
We
stopped in Cortez at Maverick for fuel before starting the 467-mile trip home
to Aguila. We stopped for fuel a couple of times and had to stop a few times
beyond that to tighten or adjust a strap.
The
battery in the Jeep is too big for the hood to close properly. Fearing the wind
would catch it and blow the hood into the windshield, I strapped the hood down
with a ratchet strap. Much like you do with alligators so they can’t bite you.
Or so I hear. It took a couple of
attempts to get the ratchet in the right place so it wouldn't slip off. We also
discovered another strap was faulty and eventually replaced it.
That
poor Jeep looked like an inmate in a straitjacket, with ratchets going every
which direction.
Celia
laughed and said, "Hey Laurie, this is how you like your men: tied down
with their mouths taped shut!"
I
couldn't argue. It was funny. I don't care who you are. ;)
Aside
from the ratchet-strap dilemma, the trip was fairly uneventful. We arrived in
Aguila by 2:00 p.m.
I
asked Celia if she wanted to drive or push. Remember, the Jeep has no reverse,
so we would have to push it off the trailer.
She
said push.
Damn.
I'm no better at backing off a trailer than I am at driving onto one.
I
crawled behind the wheel and shut my eyes as Celia gave it a mighty heave, and
off I went, jeep and all.
Again...
nobody died!
I
said goodbye to Celia as she pulled out of the drive, headed back to New River.
The Red Pen
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