More ‘adventure’

I got pulled over the other night (first time!) for driving like a dumb girl and turning down a side street from the center lane. The cops (two guys who were probably younger than me) let me go with a warning, but not before a half hour of processing.
After the serpentine belt incident, I'd switched out my insurance papers to have the ones with my emergency roadside coverage more handy. Sadly, the dates on those papers are expired.
And my license was in my camera bag, which is tucked out of sight above the driver's area.
I had to retrieve both things from the inside of the RV and in each case, one officer had to follow me with his flashlight and instruct me to move slowly.
I'm glad they followed process because for their safety, they need to.

I kept thinking about the stories police officers get about a person. A youngish woman in a van from Washington state with a growling pit bull in the back. She doesn't look like the picture on her license. Seems nervous and says she's headed no where specific. But no warrants or signs of drug or alcohol use…

And then there's the story a journalist gets — what a person voluntarily reveals about their history, motivations, relationships. Warrants and a lack of insurance are usually left out of that.

Each method reveals a story and neither is really complete.

Am I the woman the cops see or the one interacting with the people I interview?

And then it all went black

My progress, that is.

After I turned around on the isolated road from Devil's Canyon overlook, I felt something snap under my van's hood and lost my power steering. Miles from town, with no safe pull-offs and no cell phone reception, I kept driving. I looked down a few minutes later and noticed my battery meter was down, while my thermostat was registering full blast.

Serpentine belt. Damn.

I made the decision to drive into town and park for the night near a gas station. There are no fully equipped mechanic shops for at least 35 miles.
But I was blessed enough to encounter two young guys at a service station who in the 90-degree heat located and installed a new belt for me. I drove away, checking for signs that my engine was ok and noticed coolant gushing out everywhere.

Headed back to the service station, but they couldn't help me.

Lloyd Mayes, a local motorcycle and auto mechanic and locksmith figured out the leak was coming from my heater core and rerouted the hoses around it for me. I was so relieved to be able to drive away.

Once I got to Gillette, I found another mysterious leak and ended up at the Midas there. So maybe I should add an "American mechanic" category.

Anyway, I think I am ok, now. It's all a part of the adventure. But send your prayers and good thoughts my way!