Automotive Repair in Lebanon, Missouri
I left Chicago in May of 2006. Gas prices were up to $3.68 a gallon in the city. And I was embarking on an 1800 mile journey back to Phoenix and I knew nothing of automotive repair. This will be a key element as the story of the trip progresses. So we leave Chicago, with “She’s a Rainbow” by the Rolling Stones playing on the car stereo. All of my belongings, including Jack the junkyard dog were in my 1993 Chevy Blazer, an SUV of the old school days, with more that 250,000 miles on it.
The night before I left, the door would not shut, and although I looked through manuals, including motor cycle manuals, just because I thought anything may help…I secured the door with an extension cord taken from my computer. So we load up and head out at about 4pm. My turn to drive came in St. Louis, in the middle of heavy duty construction taking place on the highway, and in the middle of a mid-western rainstorm. I made it through okay, knuckles were a bit white, but I was doing just fine.
At about 3am we decide to pull off to sleep, and as I was exiting the freeway, the ‘check engine’ light came on. I slowed for the traffic light of the off ramp, and the Blazer died. Turned the ignition, and managed a few more feet, and the Blazer died again. As I sat there with everything I owned–a wooden chair, an easel, some paint tubes and canvas, in Lebanon, Missouri,and with the one creature-canine whom I loved, I wished that I had some idea of just what to do next.
I wished that I had remembered to bring along one of the small engine repair manuals a friend had suggested before I left Chicago. We managed to make it to a hotel, where the canine Jack made me smile as he saw himself in the mirror for the first time. The front desk clerk suggested a mechanic. The next day, I was told that it was a simple matter of a piece of carbon–as I recall–that just needed to work its way through the engine.
With more than 1600 miles to go, I was nervous and skeptical, but the Blazer with my belongings and my dog, made it to Phoenix just fine. And as I pulled into my new house in Phoenix, I was thankful for the mechanics in Lebanon, and I was thankful for beat up Chevy’s with miles still yet to be traveled, and I was thankful that Jack, the easel and the paints made it home.