The Story: Planes Trains & Automobiles -- I

"When I'm dead and buried, all I'll leave behind are some shower curtain rings that didn't fall down. 

Some legacy, huh?"

(Del)

It started with a Car...

Less than an hour from Las Vegas, Nevada and my car had over-heated for the 3rd time. It was 6-AM and my friend Sara and I were on the ramp of ho-dunk town, California: "Baker," California to be exact. It was quiet and rather quaint - it had a gas station, a Big Boy restaurant and and an IHOP.

I rolled my eyes and thought, "well, car's done." I chuckled out loud and Sara swore in a mocking tone.

After two previous stops to fill up the anti-freeze, let it cool and take time for a nap, the car had buckled on its last legs. It was an awkward moment, like when two people choose to go their separate ways and no one has anything better to say. The ol' car just wanted to die, I guess. Still, there might be hope, right?

I called my insurance company for a tow. Yes, it was the second one in two days. I had grave suspicions that Firestone had not done a good job the day before. Ironically, I stood there on the exit ramp, trailer hitched to my car and waited for the Insurance lady to call the police, because heaven forbid we stop traffic for all of 6 cars in an empty town.

It took the police nearly an hour to arrive. And even then, he used the bumpers of his patrol car to guide into the gas station parking lot. It would be another hour before a tow got there.

The tow guy arrived (relief!) and jumped out of his truck to find out where he need to take the car - but unfortunately, his English was broken and my Spanish, not brushed up enough to make any communication go smoothly (lame!). Finally, I told him he'd have to wait as my insurance only covered the first 30 miles of a tow and I wasn't going to pay $7 a mile for 80 miles to Vegas. Thankfully, Sara was able to call her insurance and convince them to get us there the rest of the way for free (Hallelujah!).

We got the car to another Firestone - though I don't think they're a branch, just affiliated. It was more like a good ol' boy garage and I was happy to talk to men who were honest, more like my uncles and frankly, felt sorry for me. Ha.

Once they inspected the car and did a full analysis - all of two hours later (Thank God for Starbucks, never thought I'd say that) -- they informed me I needed a new motor, there was no oil in the car, the radiator wasn't flowing (i.e. San Diego Firestone didn't do the flush they said they did) and a host of other things on long list of repairs. Confirmed: Car Dead.

At one point my mother called, I answered the phone and I laughed. She scolded and said, "It's not funny!"
"Mom, it's totally funny."

There came a moment when I realized I just didn't care. I had the car for 7 precious years, it was 12 years old and it had been my sanctuary. But it was done, and it just did not bother me. I would figure it out. I always had. Besides worrying about it wasn't going to change the situation. It would only stress me out further and that was not something I needed after coming off nearly a year of un-stressing.

Needless to say, I made arrangements to stay at my Uncle's house - who, though not home, was able to put me in contact with my cousin and make the arrangements. My friend left for the airport. To top it off, my dad was able to graciously help me arrange to have my belongings in the trailer picked up and would later ship them.

Meantime: I made reservations for a Wednesday train from Las Vegas...

TO BE CON'T....