There was no set time for us to arrive and we were in the most carefree spirit in years. We remarked at the urban sprawl and the complexity of overpasses in Appleton, Fond Du Lac and Oshkosh that have appeared since we last passed this way, some two years ago.
Our lightness of mood suddenly halted as we pulled into a gas oasis in Stevens Point. As our car approached one of the gas pumps a horrible, grinding sound emanated from the rear. We looked at each other.
"That doesn't sound good. Not good at all," Lois said, her countenance darkening into concern.
"Shit!" was all I could say.
The car needed fuel and I needed to use the facilities and to refill my coffee mug from the many choices inside. After filling the tank I was at the coffee bar and decided on filling my mug halfway with Colombian coffee. I topped it off with a liquid candy called English Toffee. We paid and went back out to our car. It was after six and there would be no car repair service available. The city was congested and there would probably be no lodging available.
The noise came and went and disappeared when we were on Highway 10, exiting Stevens Point. I kept pace with the flow of traffic but drove conservatively. We didn't hear the noise at all until we got on the ramp to Highway 45. We went through one of those ridiculous things called a turnabout. It routed us around 360 degrees and then some and I lost all sense of direction. I had to slow down considerably to negotiate this crazy, winding menace the highway engineers inflicted on unsuspecting motorists. Must have been insane highway engineers.
The noise came again, wrenching, grinding, frightening, compounded by heavy traffic. When we left the turnabout and accelerated the noise ceased. By now my mind was going wild. I was in three lanes of traffic and four at times, all going one way and looking for overhead signs to be sure I was headed in the right direction. Lois activated the GPS. She is the navigator. I am flying the plane with the unknown mechanical malfunction.
With Lois' skill at using the GPS we got to the last leg of the trip at the Allenton exit on Highway 33. There was a stop sign and when I came to a complete stop it became apparent that it was the brakes as the scraping grind intensified to a shriek that set my teeth on edge. Careful driving would get us there. Nonetheless I prayed non-stop.
Once in West Bend we had to find Isadora's B & B and I thought I knew where it was from the Google map, but the night plays strange tricks on one's senses. Things look completely different. Then the GPS took us to an old abandoned block structure on Main Street. "Make a left turn, immediately'" the female voice said, in and we did. We were routed into a dark alley. A chime sounded and the female voice on the GPS said, "You have arrived!"
We exited the dark alley and the voice said, "Please make a legal u-turn whenever possible." My frustration boiled over and I told the GPS voice to shove it where the sun never shines. On the homeward trip I named her Gertrude.
Gertrude had obviously failed us, so Lois told me to pull over as soon as I could and she would call Darryl at the B & B for help.
As Lois talked I went out with the flashlight to look under the car for anything that might be hanging down or damaged. I didn't find anything so I got back into the car and Darryl stayed on the line with Lois to become our live GPS as it were. In a little while we found our destination and parked the car with tortured sounds reminiscent of the Titanic. Darryl was there to greet us. I was shaken, frustrated and tired. I looked at the rear wheels with the flashlight and saw irreparable scoring on the brake rotors. Now I felt defeated. I was never going to take another road trip again never!
I recalled the trips to West Bend with mechanical failures: the Ford Torino station wagon, alternator failure; the Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera failed Lois on a solo trip, computer failure; the Dodge Dakota needed a sudden tune-up on the day after Christmas and the distributer gear failed; the F-150 blew an alternator on a homeward trip in the winter in the middle of nowhere; the Ford Taurus never failed us.
I followed Lois and Darryl silently fuming and cursing. Yes I curse when my buttons are pushed. I admit it. I'm saved by Jesus through His generosity and grace but I'm human, no better or worthy in the sight of God than anyone else. My old nature takes over at times of my weakness. I confess it to God . I carried some of our luggage down the sidewalk and turned into the path to the front porch.
 |
| living room with bay window |
We ascended a winding staircase to the second floor library with period furniture and a Tiffany lamp overlooking a high-backed chair. Our room was on the third floor, The French Nook. We went up another winding staircase. This one was narrow and carpeted and our room was right at the head of the stairs.
I threw the heavy suitcase on the full-sized bed adorned with pillows of various sizes. I sat down on the bed which was so high that my feet dangled. I was trying to take in all the European ambience but the stress of the drive weighed heavily.
"How many times have we come down here and our car broke down. First it was the Torino wagon..."
"Don't." I looked up at Lois, who had just rebuked me and I deserved it. I desperately wanted to avoid spoiling this family reunion, but I was mad, embarrassed at having our newly-acquired car break down, and ashamed at myself for my anger and inner feelings and my break from fellowship with God.
We went down again and met with Darryl Ziebarth for the guided tour. (His wife was out of town.) Antique furniture graced the massive living room and rich curtains and drapes framed the bay window in the front of the house. A headless mannequin modeled a black wedding dress. The room had a somewhat masculine quality as dark woodwork bordered the ceilings which were painted works of art. I retrieved my camera and tripod and photographed until my eyes wouldn't focus.
We said good-night to Darryl, who had been a missionary in Somalia. He was, calm, gentle and walks closely with God. He told us about a garage on Highway 33, Lifetime Auto that had a reputable mechanic, none other than his nephew.
We went up the two flights of stairs again and washed up in the adjacent full bathroom with shower. As we settled into bed I turned on my Kindle looked for some guidance from the Radio Bible Class web page, rbc.org.
I went into the section Been Thinking About and chose a story about Jacob. He was bad to the bone, stole his brother's inheritance and lied to his father among many other failings. His son, Joseph was upright and walked closely with his God even though he was kidnapped, thrown into a well, sold into slavery, etc. but the Bible refers to Jacob's God twenty-five times, never to Joseph's God.
Jacob did eventually get in synch with God but he is easier to identify with. I felt like Jacob and I went to sleep asking for forgiveness from Lois and God.
But I still worried about our car.
========= To be continued, end of Part One==========
No comments:
Post a Comment