How's That Again?: Jalisco

I hadn't planned on writing again so soon, but it has been an incredible 34 hours, 57 minutes since I pulled out of my momma's driveway to find my new life. Before I tell you all of the details, I have to preface it by reminding you about Tammy, my new home, and by telling you a tiny background oil change story:

After leaving Los Angeles, California and a situation I was less than sure I trusted, Tammy and I found our way to Flagstaff, AZ. So far she had navigated the 114 degree Mojave desert like a champ, but I noticed her oil change sticker indicated she was at least 2,000 miles overdue. Knowing that Flagstaff is the closest option to have that done before I would begin Operation Makeover, I sought a garage that would change RV oil, complete with a tall enough garage entrance to accommodate her size.

Several typical oil change places turned the job down and we ended up at an RV sales and service center. Having never had maintenance of any kind done on a vehicle of that size, I thought the $179 (including tax and a $30 discount because my mom baulked incredulously at the bill) was a bit steep. The shop's policy was to charge $139/hour for labor plus retail cost on oil and filter. Anywhoooo, I think the sting of that has worn off, so I'm okay talking about it now... During that oil change, that I'm sure included flakes of gold sprinkled throughout my rig, the nice mechanic also alerted me to eminent mechanical "needs":

1- The "radiator hose in the back is crushed. (I) will overheat and destroy the engine".
2- The rear brakes need immediate attention
3- The bushings are all completely rotten

Forgive me if I simply wasn't sure I trusted their expertise. I had just climbed a major mountain range with Tammy and not even a flickering of the "too warm" zone was approached on my instrument panel. Besides, I felt broke, exhausted and ready to get home and consider what was ahead...

Upon the picking-up of Tammy in CA, I noted the tire tread looked great and the tires were a nice black color- fresh and new looking. However, after the camping excursion with my nephew, which included 16 miles of Arizona red dirt roads, the tires were looking a little like they had been painted black and were now sticking to dirt in the heat of the desert.

As "go-time" neared and the interior makeover was accomplished, I considered taking an extra day to drive an hour south to have a second opinion done and then an hour back to start my trip, but ultimately decided: I will go to a mechanic when I know I need a mechanic. I needed to head north, not south.

So, Tammy, the pups and I made our way to Winslow, AZ to fuel before hitting I-40 West toward Albuquerque. I had spend the morning responding to 15 urgent emails and making an important phone call, so my departure was closer to noon than I had wanted, but I'm learning to trust the timing and the process. I'm trying to allow my body, spirit, and mind to fall into a different rhythm than I'm used to and I knew stressing about some arbitrary goal was counter productive.

About 80-ish miles after the initial fuel stop, with only 1/4 of a tank consumed, I saw a lone gas station exit advertising $2.50/gallon fuel. This is a huge savings compared to what I had been paying and I figured it was worth it to stop and top off again, besides, the dogs could use the potty break and I was hungry. The red skin potato salad in my fridge was sounding so good. However, I nearly talked myself out of taking the exit. Driving a rig that size at the speed limit can be challenging. I had been playing leap frog with a few semis for miles and was finally "free" of them, just in time for one lane road construction. I didn't want to play dangerous passing games with any more big rigs and I feared my stop would put me right back in their midst.

I took the exit anyway. I need to learn a slower pace and I was HUNGRY!

I spent about 45 minutes at the stop fueling, letting dogs roam and feeding myself while catching up with texts I had missed while driving. The exit from the gas plaza was lined with semis when I decided to leave. The interstate entrance was reduced to pilot car, single lane travel and it took a good 15 minutes for me to even approach the I-40 on-ramp. Five more miles of single lane road construction and I was finally free to get up to speed...

Then, a couple of miles later I saw the evidence of incredible providential protection by God. In the median between the two lanes of I-40 laying on its side, was one of the semis I had been leap-frogging with only an hour before. I've never in my life had the urge to refill a fuel tank that's still 3/4 full. I sensed now that the Spirit of God had prompted me to take the exit, potentially preserving my life!

As I neared Albuquerque, the whole way offering simple prayers of gratitude, I began to notice Tammy seemed to rattle a little louder. I initially thought maybe the texture of the pavement had changed, but concern grew as my seatbelt was on constant "lock down". By now I was in 5:00 traffic with four packed lanes of traffic, travelling at speeds of 65+ miles per hour. I needed to stay the course until I could take the I-25 exit and get out of city traffic before I could assess anything, however I kept seeing flashes of the image of my crusty looking tires in my mind's eye. As I approached the point of speed increase on I-25, 15 or 16 miles outside of the city, I heard it: the unmistakable pop of a shredding tire. Somehow, by grace and mercy, I was able to quickly merge to my right and leave the road, with both terrified dogs huddled under my braking foot.

No one stopped, I don't blame them. Traffic was heavy and it was hot and dangerous.

I started by first slowing my thinking. I was okay. The dogs were okay, although I knew they didn't feel okay and were looking to me for reassurance.

I gave them water, spent some time loving on them, then stepped out to rummage through my spare tire storage compartment.

Oh, good! I have a jack and an awesome spare and a lug nut "T", with a couple of orange cones tossed in, just in case.

I set out the cones and got out the jack. Following the directions on the box, resulting in the shattering of the jack.

Furthermore, the lug nut "T" wasn't the correct size or length for the tires on my rig.

Okay, no fear. The dogs probably need to pee. I took each, separately, and gave them some love, letting them know they were okay. I texted a few friends to let them know not to expect me on time and then called the non-emergency number for the state police. I grabbed a cold water from the fridge and waited... I had noticed an exit for a small town was a little more than a mile ahead, but I couldn't read the sign well enough to tell the dispatch exactly where I was. Not to worry, I'm with my dogs, I'm in my home. No one will let me live here for long before they stop. Either way, I'll get someone's attention.

I prayed that the exact right person would stop and that I would not be in danger at any point, then I trusted that I was heard in that prayer. A few minutes later, a police officer flew passed me, without even turning his head. Okay, that's not the right help....

After about a half hour a man (missing all of his teeth) and his eleven year old son stopped to help. His lug nut "T" was too small too, but that sweet kid was ambitious and helpful. Within minutes they had convinced me to slowly follow them to the next exit, trusting the good tire of the dually set to protect the wheel of the blown tire. The kid had my spare as well as the rest of the contents re-loaded within seconds and offered to ride with me. I declined, but was thankful to have them refer me to a friend with an auto shop.

Minutes later, I found myself in the parking lot of Jalisco's Garage, which happened to share property adjacent to the railroad tracks. Jalisco was gone for the day, but my new friend, Carlos called him and in Spanish explained my situation. Jalisco was there in a flash. He ran around my rig and assessed all the tires and the spare. The spare was new, completely perfect, but the other outside back tire and the two front ones were now showing massive cracks from their day of expanding on the road. I wouldn't be safe to go anywhere until he was able to order me four new tires in the morning. During the course of conversation, Carlos and his son asked me to join them at a nearby casino for dinner and a "view of the mountains". I declined, hoping my "no" would be enough to discourage further invitations to socialize...

Jalisco quickly ran an extension cord from his shop to my rig, offered the dogs and I water, gave me access to a spare car from his lot in case I needed to go anywhere and told me I would be safe to stay there overnight. From that parking lot, I typed my "Tammy" blog, while listening to Amtrak's entire evening itinerary scream by.

After Jalisco left, Carlos returned, asking me for $40 for a "tank of gas" and offered to leave his son with me while he went to get his paycheck in Santa Fe. He'd bring us dinner and help pay for my tires, he said.

UGH!!

Now I was starting to get sketched out. I was a sitting duck and this weirdo knew it. I told him I don't travel with cash, but I could come up with $20, but I wasn't going to let him to leave his son. They took my $20 and left quickly and I immediately prayed they'd never return.

You may not believe it, but I spent the most peaceful night in that little weird parking lot! I knew I was covered in protection and I knew this is where I was supposed to be.

The next morning Jalisco was an hour and 10 minutes later than he said he'd be. Other customers had started to congregate at his front door while I sipped my coffee in the increasingly warm rig. Eventually, my tires were ordered from Albuquerque and I waited... and waited... and sat peacefully waiting. I have nowhere to be! "I live here now", I thought. I have my home, my dogs, my needs are met, I'm okay...

I liked Jalisco. He was one of those guys who cannot tell a lie. While I waited I discussed the oil change situation in Flagstaff. He genuinely grew upset at the story. "NO!" he said. "That's not right! If you were a diesel I'd only charge you $75!" I told him about the list of things the other shop wanted me to immediately fix. Jalisco was adamant: "You will not leave here until I look at everything", he said with his thick Mexican accent.

I was safe. I was being cared for. I would sit her all week if that's what Jalisco needed. Besides, he had quoted me a ridiculously low price for the tires, cheaper even than the ones I had just put on my car, and he had promised to spend so much time looking over my rig! I knew that whatever the final bill, it would be worth the time and money.

Jalisco did the front tires first: "These brakes are brand new!" Your bushings are perfect up here, there are no leaks. Everything is perfect. You don't worry Mija. I will make sure you are safe."

Next he did the rear tires: "You still have 60% left on these brakes, the bushings are fine and there are no leaks. This is a beautiful vehicle Mija, you did good to buy it. Wait though, I will keep looking."

He made his way to the hood and noted the brand new belts and clean hoses. The radiator did have a suction situation (not a crushing), which was easily remedied by repositioning a hose and releasing the pressure built by the radiator cap seal. He taught me every step, like a father would. Next he tested every fuse and offered to replace my windshield wipers for free. Unfortunately, Tammy has a strange adapter that isn't compatible with most wipers or the adapters they come with. Jalisco then patiently noted each tool, size and brand, I would be best suited with for future tire changes and re-explained everything I'd have to do on the side of the road, should the need arise.

As he finished with me, a line had begun to form of people needing his help. However, an ice cream truck had also just arrived on the lot. Jalisco hurried to the truck and ordered me, and a three year old in the waiting line an ice cream. Finally, at 2:00 local time on day two, officially, of my adventure, Jalisco charged me for his services. He charged, to the dime, exactly what he had quoted five hours earlier. I KNOW he wasn't kidding when he disgustedly explained the guys down the street would have charged me double for refurbished tires. "I'll keep you safe, Mija, anytime", he said as he hugged me goodbye.

Is my Abba God not amazing?! What a provision! There's no way I would have been cared for in such a way had I gone south before heading north, to the tire shop nearest my point of origin.

I am loved! I'm never, ever, alone. Oh, and for the record, Carlos never returned...

I have so much more to tell you about Day Two, but I'm exhausted and Day Three technically just began. Maybe I'll see you here in bit?

Miriam still isn't so sure about road-tripping, and this is before the tire explosion! She rode this way for more than 160 miles. (Spoiler alert: she rode nearly 500 miles this way on Day Two. It's simultaneously the sweetest and saddest thing!)

Welllll, that's a big bummer! But, we were 100% okay, it didn't alter my driving line even by an inch!

Don't worry about that black nail, it's a side effect of the remodel. I don't think I'll even lose it!

Not as strong and dependable as advertised.

I did find a set of these fun umbrellas behind the spare, but not an appropriate apparatus to remove lug nuts... I'm sure I'll find a way to appreciate them eventually.