(If you haven’t read Part I of this little adventure, see the blog Entry below.)
And so the truck with the bouncing van headed down 101. I was terrified I’d lose both my wife and our van (I can live without the van), but as we approached Garberville (blink, and you miss it), she rang my cell and confirmed that, yeah, it was sorta terrifying bouncing in a van strapped to a tow truck. Then we arrived at the garage.
I’m sure there are helpful people in Garberville. Unfortunately, they were all out of town at a Convention for Helpful People that day.
Mr. H. walked in, walked out, and reassured us that, “YEP, THEY’RE THREE MONTHS BEHIND”. He called the only other garage in town. They were only behind a month. We told him that the CHP officer recommended a garage in Redway. He said, “WELL, THERE’S SOUTH COUNTY AUTO IN REDWAY, BUT THEY WON’T TAKE YOU EITHER. MWAHA-HA-HA-HA”.
(He didn’t really go “MWAHA-HA-HA-HA”, but he did speak in all caps.)
I asked if he had their number. He didn’t. Naturally. SO *I* called 411, got the number, and then called South County. I think this really dissapointed Mr. H. – I honestly believe he wanted to just leave us in the garage with the three month queue so he could drive off to help other unsuspecting travelers. The folks at South County Auto are really helpful, by the way. (I guess they didn’t get tickets to the convention.) They quickly replaced the belts and then determined that the radiator was shot. The car wouldn’t be fixed by the end of the day.
We were six hours plus from home. The closest hotel was a 10 mile walk, Staying wasn’t an option: I had work the next day. My wife had to take my father-in-law to a doctor’s appointment. And Bela had a plane to catch. There were no rental cars, taxies, or buses. We called AAA. They said we had one option. We were driving home in a U-haul. Take your time digesting this one.
Yes, a U-haul. I finally learn how to pack lean, and now I’m traveling in a moving truck.
I changed into my sneakers and hiked the stretch between Redway and Garberville. It’s a country road where cars travel at highway-plus speeds. The walk wasn’t fun like being strapped to a van on a tow truck from Hell, but it wasn’t a walk in the park, either. Nope. Not a park.
Turns out that the walk is called “The Gauntlet”. The U-haul Lady told me that when I arrived at the rental place a brisk 45 minutes later. Lovely.
I guess “long story short” is moot at this point. Let’s just say that Bela made his plane, and we made it home early Tuesday morning. We drove back up on Friday morning and got our van, equipped with a sparkling new radiator and set of belts. (Our former mechanic later decided not to pay for everything. I won’t list his name here, for risk of slander, but if you email me, we can chat.)
Hindsight always comes late. Halfway home my wife wondered aloud, “Gee, I wonder if we could have rented a car carrier, too, and just dumped our van in Santa Cruz?” (Out of curiosity and slight masochism, I called the rental place the next day. Turns out the answer was “yes”.)
Post Mortem – Lessons Learned:
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- You know that old saying, “Someday we’ll look back on this and laugh?” Doesn’t always apply.
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- The next time when/if we break down, we’re hauling our car home.
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- The tow truck driver probably really wasn’t from Hell. But he sure was a pain in the ass.
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- If you think you’ll be driving home in a moving van, go ahead and pack the mandolin and extra clothes. You’ll have room.