Alternating Currents

Snoopy often wrote "It was a dark and stormy night..." In this case, it was not stormy at all, but nonetheless dark. My usual welcome home view of the Mission Mountains was not going to happen at 10 PM. Having traveled two full days on the road from Arizona to Montana, I was closing in on my first destination, that being my Mom's house. Suddenly the battery light on the car came on. I quickly assessed that I could make it to Ronan without much problem. Assuming and assessing must be related (specifically if you focus on the first three letters of each word and note the similarity). As I passed the Buck Snort Restaurant (and probably casino) and hit the straightaway, my headlights faded to almost nil. I gunned the engine to get what juice I could out of the rapidly deteriorating power situation and went nearly a mile with a firefly's worth of light coming out of my halogens. I rolled down into the parking lot of Joe's Smoke Ring as the car died. Sitting there under the security lighting between Joe's and the Mule Palace (yes, this is Montana, my friends), I decided it was time to get to a pay phone and call Mom for a rescue run. Just then, in the complete silence of the deserted dirt lot, my car began rocking side to side. Not once or twice but six times, as though someone were pushing on the side of the car. I locked my door and looked around. No one to be found. Not even little kids or a wayward moose. I unlocked the door once the rocking stopped and felt the air for wind. Nothing. Stephen King comes to mind at times like this. Had I just come down the Green Mile?

Being the success-oriented fellow I am, I decided I would give the key a turn and see if the the ol' beast would start up. After a couple attempts, the engine fired up, the headlights snapped on, and I was underway again, roaring down the highway homeward bound! Knowing I had a couple small towns, namely Arlee, Ravalli, and St Ignatius, between the Smoke Ring and Ronan, I felt reasonably assured I would make it (note that "assured" also has the same three letters as "assumed" and "assessed"). On the pitch black downhill grade three miles outside of Arlee my car bit the dust. Lights dimmed to nothing and power went out...no power steering, little if any brake control. Oncoming cars flashed me to tell me what I already knew: I was driving blind. By sheer animal ability to see reflections in the littlest of ambient light, I spotted a driveway and coasted in and pulled the parking brake to stop. Here I sat, no light whatsoever, no cell phone coverage, and a 3 mile walk ahead of me. I opened the hood and figured someone might stop, perhaps my old Boys State counselor/state trooper Craig Palmer. No such luck. I decided to sit it out awhile and then see if I could restart the car. Just then a white sedan pulled into the driveway from the highway. I attempted to flag it down but the driver only honked the horn at me and rumbled on up the long drive to a distant house. So much for a helping hand.

Five restarts failed, then finally the car started! Lights came on. I dropped the hood and spun gravel as I floored it down around the last curve into Arlee. Just as I hit street light illumination, the alternator coughed it's last breath and I luckily threaded traffic and coasted across the oncoming lane into the Cenex station and braked under a security light in a parking space as though I'd planned it for weeks. I went to the pay phone and called Mom, who set out in her pickup to meet me. I found a 25 cent soda pop machine and bought a couple cans with my remaining quarters. Nothing like a cheap carbonated beverage in the glow of a gas station light. Some teenage girls rolled up, gave me a look like "hmmm who is that old dude drinking in that car from Arizona?" then they figured I was harmless enough and proceeded to snag some cheap soda pops out of the machine and roared off, giggling. Kids, gotta love 'em.

Mom arrived, gave me a hug, and we swapped stories of various times my brother and sister needed rides after their cars broke down. We decided to transload all my stuff out of the car into her pickup and leave the car there in Arlee until the next morning. I drove the pickup on the way home. Believe it or not, it ran like a top. On the way home, Mom asked if I'd felt the earthquake. A 5.6 on the Richter scale had epicentered near Dillon at 10:10 PM. So that was what rocked my car!

The next morning we hired a tow truck to bring the car into Ronan and got a new alternator put in. Financial setback not expected or budgeted for, but nonetheless a reality. Thanks Mom for covering the towing charge. It took a couple days to get the work done on the car so I had a good long visit with Mom and got to eat breakfast at the Shaggy Moose Cafe in Ronan. That in itself is an experience. Not much to look at on the outside with it's ramshackle blue building, but well worth the banter with the owner and the interesting menu with fresh juices and unique coffees and the thankful lack of greasy hamburgers. I recommend it if you are ever in Ronan at breakfast or lunchtime.

Once the car was repaired, I pointed it north toward my brother's house in Columbia Falls and the promise of Heritage Days and meeting old friends. I had just survived my car losing all power on the reservation in the middle of an earthquake...what more could this vacation bring my way?