Almost Trailside: A True Story (7 page)

BOOK: Almost Trailside: A True Story
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We continued on Interstate 80 toward Reno, Nevada. After leaving the Salt Lake City area, there were very few towns along the Interstate. The highway was straight and long and definitely desert. No real trees to speak of and not even any tall cactus, just small scruffy looking little dessert bushes all over the valley and sand for as far as you could see.

As it grew late, hours past the beautiful desert sunset, it became clear that we weren’t going to make Reno that night. We knew we had to stop somewhere for the night, but we didn’t know where.

Finally, we saw a campground sign along the Interstate, the only one we ever saw, and decided to follow it. It was far off the highway, down a gully and up a steep hill. The narrow dirt road was dark, bumpy, and desolate. It was midnight by the time we knocked on the campground manager’s door. The campground was full, but the nice manager offered his front yard. It was an easy decision. We were too tired to drive any further.

When we woke in the morning, sunlight revealed that we were camping on a wet muddy dirt area. It was real close to being a swamp. We all tracked a huge amount of mud into the little travel trailer last night but we were so tired and it was so dark that we didn’t even notice. I spent the morning cleaning the dried mud off of all of our shoes and mopping the little trailer’s floor. What a mess it was! There was no way any of us could step outside.

Tommy carried Buffy out across the mud to a small dry weedy area so she could go potty. He carried the boys, one at a time, from the little trailer to the station wagon. Then he carried me to the station wagon. He
was the only one with mud packed shoes, which he took off and drove in only his sox. When we got back out onto Interstate 80, he pulled over and changed into a clean pair of shoes.

We were rested and more than anxious to leave the dirt and mud behind.

Reno, here we come!

Chapter IV

N
ot far from Reno, at a hot little desert prairie town called Lovelock, we stopped at the only gas station. Tommy thought the little traveler trailer didn’t feel right. He wanted to check it out. The travel trailer had a flat tire. Fortunately, we carried a spare with us. Tommy spent a difficult half hour changing the tire that seemed to be glued on. The abundant swearing must have soothed him.

Meanwhile, we all used the bathroom at the gas station and Andy took Buffy for a walk on her leash. When Tommy finished changing the tire, we gladly jumped into the air-conditioned station wagon. It was an unusually hot day.

About forty miles west of Lovelock on Interstate 80, Tommy was checking traffic conditions on his CB radio. We were making great time heading toward Reno until Tommy said, “Where’s Buffy?”

She wasn’t in the car with us! Andy said she ran under a parked car at the gas station in Lovelock to lay down out-of-the-sun and he forgot to tell us. Tommy was frantic and the boys were crying.

In his haste to get back to Lovelock, Tommy suddenly turned the steering wheel attempting to drive across the sandy Interstate divide, down the embankment and unto the gully, but before we could reach the other side both the station wagon
and
the travel trailer sunk into the hot sand. We were stuck in the middle of the desert between the two sections of freeway and no one could see us. Tommy tried to back up but we didn’t move. He tried to pull forward but nothing happened. Just spinning tires prompted the swearing. The truckers would have been proud of him.

Tommy decided to hitch a ride back to Lovelock, but
I
would go in the car to Lovelock, find Buffy, and bring back a tow truck and
he
would stay with the vehicles and the boys.

Tommy gave me almost all the money he had in his wallet to pay for the tow truck before he climbed the sandy embankment, crossed the road, and stuck out his thumb. The first car that came by stopped for him. When he saw the two young guys in the blue Camaro, he decided
he
should go with them and I should stay.

It was the hottest day of the year, a record breaking 117 degrees in the desert and we were stuck in it. To make matters worse, I was sick. I had a terrible stomach ache and head ache. I was dehydrated. It’s a good thing we had a port-a-potty in the travel trailer because I was in there often.

I gave the boys water to drink and wiped their faces, arms, and legs with a wet wash cloth to keep
them cool. After a while, I decided if I didn’t do something to get us out of the hot dry desert that we were all going to die.

I turned on the CB radio and called for help. “Breaker, breaker…anyone out there got their ears on for this damsel in distress? I need your help. I’m forty miles west of Lovelock, stuck in the sand between the two freeways. You can’t see me from the road. I need someone to pull my car and trailer out of the sand. Is anyone out there? Come back.” I wasn’t use to talking on the CB radio but I heard Tommy do it hundreds of times.

Instantly there was a reply. “Hey little lady, I got your back. I’m headed east out of Reno toward Lovelock. This big ole eighteen wheeler can do the job. I’ll be watchin for ya.”

Right away was another reply. “Hold on, little lady, that eighteen wheeler doesn’t have nothin on my big ole Ford four-by-four three-quarter ton work-horse-of-a-truck. I’ve got a wench on it front and back. Where are ya, little lady? I heard ya say you’re bout forty miles west of Lovelock. Come back, come back to Big John.”

“I’m going to walk up the embankment to the freeway. Please hurry. I’m stuck in the hot sand with my two little boys and I’m sick. I need help right away. Come back?”

“We’ve got your back, little lady. We’re on the way and looking for ya right now. We’re in a big red Ford truck. You can’t miss us.”

I dropped the CB, quickly walked up the sandy embankment to the Interstate, and crossed onto the other side. I left the boys in the station wagon with the door open. They each had a fresh wet face cloth and a
cup of water. The hot desert air was completely still in the sandy Nevada gully.

Within minutes, a huge red Ford truck with giant tires pulled over. Two burley muscular young men wearing jeans, tank tops, and cowboy hats immediately jumped out. I showed them the station wagon and little travel trailer stuck down the embankment in the sand.

“Hell, yeah, we can do this, no problem.” They both shook their heads in agreement.

I walked the boys up out of the sandy gully to the Interstate. We stood on the side of the road as the two cowboys got right to work, backed their truck into place, and hooked onto the station wagon. One of the young men got behind the wheel of the station wagon while the other one drove the truck. The big Ford truck’s engine revved higher and higher and then it began to move. Slow and steady the truck inched forward until the station wagon and little trailer were completely out of the sandy gully and resting on the Interstate. I was so relieved. I tried to give the two nice young men some money, but they wouldn’t take it. I thanked them profusely and they were quickly on their way.

I jumped into the station wagon with the boys heading east back toward Lovelock to find Tommy and Buffy. After a few miles, the station wagon started making an odd sound. I pulled over and got out to investigate. It was a flat tire! I could see an eighteen wheeler approaching in the distance. I stood by the roadway and flagged him down. He was by himself.

“Hey, little lady, is that you?” His cowboy drawl was thick. It was the trucker who answered my call for help on the CB radio.

I explained to him how the boys in the red Ford truck pulled me out of the sand but now I had a flat tire that I needed help with. He was tall and lanky with a pleasant smile, a real nice man. He quickly changed the tire for me and was on his way. Waving out the window of his cab, he gave us three big horn blasts. The boys were delighted.

Back on the road again, it seemed like an hour before I arrived at the gas station in Lovelock. I bought ice cold sodas for the boys and myself and spoke with the station owner. He told me he saw Buffy under the car and tried to give her some water, but she wouldn’t let him get close to her. When Tommy arrived Buffy happily ran to him. Then he sent Tommy down the street to a shop where he could hire a tow truck. That was the last he saw of Tommy and Buffy.

I couldn’t park the station wagon and little travel trailer at the gas station. They took up too much room. I told the owner I was going to drive down the street and park under the first shade tree I could find, and if he saw my husband to please tell him where I was.

I slowly pulled the station wagon and little travel trailer away from the gas station. One short block away and around the corner, I found the only shade tree and parked under it in front of a nostalgic old gray building. The faded signs read Dairy and Eggs for Sale. I set the parking break, locked the station wagon, and opened the door to the little travel trailer. Exhausted, I propped up some pillows and reclined on the bed watching the boys play out in front of the old gray building among the dairies discards; egg shells, dairy boxes, egg cartons, wood scraps, etc. The boys were busy building and investigating. They were having a great time.

An hour later, Tommy stepped into the little trailer carrying Buffy. I was amazed he found us so quickly. The sweat was pouring off of him. He, too, was exhausted from the stifling desert sun.

The two guys that picked him up in the blue Camaro were weird. Tommy sat in the back seat. They passed a rolled joint around and offered him some but he refused. They drove much faster than the speed limit, so he got back to Lovelock in record time. He found Buffy at the gas station then went down the street to the tow truck company. The tow truck driver agreed to take Tommy out to the desert and pull the station wagon and little travel trailer out of the sand but he didn’t like dogs. Tommy had some convincing to do to allow Buffy in the cab of the tow truck but finally the driver reluctantly agreed, for an additional price for his inconvenience.

Half way out to where Tommy left his family in the desert, the tow truck ran out of gas. Luckily, the driver had gas cans with him or the tow truck would have needed a tow truck.

When they arrived at the spot in the desert where Tommy new he left his family, nothing was there. The tow truck driver thought Tommy was crazy and wanted to head back to Lovelock. Tommy insisted that his family was out there, but he couldn’t find us. Finally, out of desperation and feeling defeated, Tommy agreed with the tow truck driver to head back to
Lovelock
.

As luck would have it, we passed each other on the Interstate when I was heading east back to Lovelock and Tommy was heading west out to the desert. We couldn’t see each other because the Interstate separated and elevated preventing view of the lower section of highway, on which we were traveling.

Tired and sunburned, we made the decision to keep going on to
Reno
and treat ourselves to an air conditioned hotel room, a nice shower, and a good meal. We reserved a room at the Circus Circus in downtown Reno. After we rested and bathed, we dressed up nice and went out to dinner in the casino. Then, took the boys to the circus act and watched them play games for a while. It was an enjoyable evening for all of us.

We slept great that night pleasantly and happily enveloped between the hotel’s soft clean sheets.

The morning sunlight of the new day meant more travel. We were rested and ready to head out. The plan was to spend the final days of our trip at a little vacation property we had in
Clearlake, California
.

At the first of the month, we hired an electrician to repair the swamp cooler in our vacation home at Clearlake. When we arrived in the one hundred degree weather and entered our small abode, it was stifling inside. The cover plate was off and wires were hanging down out of the ceiling mounted swamp cooler. It obviously wasn’t repaired
or
working. Tommy ran down to the pay phone in town and called the electrician who came over right away and finished the job. At last, we had cool soothing air for the duration of our stay.

After a few days, we called our neighbors who were living in our house for the month to see how they were doing. They were able to put some pressure on the builder of their new home. To our surprise, they were already in the process of moving.

We spent the remainder of our thirty day vacation enjoying Clearlake and venturing out into the small surrounding towns.

BOOK: Almost Trailside: A True Story
13.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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