The Kindness Of Strangers.
Well, Kim and Kyler and I just returned from a nice little vacation
with the Mills family up in Colorado. While I don’t have any profound
thoughts to share on the experience, my brother, Eric, has a great
story about how he was the lucky recipient of Strange Kindness on
Saturday. Read on…
Cindy and the kids and I bid farewell to my family in Abilene, Kansas yesterday morning on the final leg of our return to St. Louis from Winter Park, Colorado. It’s about 400 miles from Abilene, to St. Louis. I figured we’d be home by 3:00, in time to unpack at a leisurely pace and still have some afternoon to enjoy.
Our Suburban had been behaving perfectly throughout the trip. As I drove along yesterday, I was thinking about all those little blank areas on the dash which I know contain warning lights, but I never see illuminated, and thinking that a person should not forget to check those every few minutes as he/she drives, because it is easy to get in the habit of ignoring them. A harbinger, to be sure.
At around 1:00 we were eastbound on I-70, four miles from Concordia, Missouri (half way home), and it was raining. I noticed that the “battery” light was on (and wondered how long it had been that way), and checking the voltmeter saw that we had dropped to around 10 volts. Based upon previous unfortunate experience I knew that the alternator had probably died, and that when that happens, you only have “so long” before the battery is completely drained, and your vehicle just quits, leaving you wherever you have managed to land yourself. The clock was ticking…
I went into emergency energy-conservation mode, turning off the lights, radio, A/C, and wipers, and slowing a little. I felt like a pilot preparing to ditch the aircraft. The voltmeter, which was visibly dropping, slowed it’s downward progress slightly. Maybe I just bought myself an extra half-mile…
Cindy noticed a sign for a NAPA Auto Parts near an exit four miles down the road. But there’s a Rest Area in two miles. And we have AAA, which will get us towed to a town, but it’s Saturday afternoon, and my family and all our vacation stuff is in the Suburban. Getting towed anywhere and having to wait until Monday it not an appealing option. Do I go for the NAPA, risking a breakdown on the shoulder of I-70, or take the sure thing, the rest area, but then be guaranteed to have to call AAA and have to spend the weekend in an unknown town?
As we approached the rest area exit things appeared to have stabilized a little, so we decided to go for the NAPA, another two miles (my poker friends will appreciate the gamble).
Nearing the NAPA exit, a little town called Concordia, the truck started to “hesitate.” The NAPA was mercifully close, within view, 1/2 mile south of the interstate. As I stopped to turn to the right, off the exit ramp, the truck was shifting very rough (I guess even the transmission in newer vehicles is controlled electronically, and it was starting to suffer).
We made it to NAPA, and I backed-in, assuming that the motor would die there, and it would be easier for the mechanics from wherever to access the front of the truck in that position. I left it running, knowing that at the battery’s reduced charge, I would never be able to re-start the truck.
I went in to NAPA and explained to an employee that I was pretty sure my alternator had died, and needed him to check it. Unfortunately, they can only run alternator diagnostics with the offending device removed from the vehicle (not an option at the moment), but he did come out and measure the voltage across the battery, which was now around 8 volts (should be 14 if the alternator is working). I told him that I could possibly replace it myself, in his parking lot, but it was raining, and I knew that once I stop that engine we’re just dead, and if I run into problems (inevitable) using my “travel tools,” which are a bare-necessity subset of my tools in my garage, I would be in big trouble. At least at the moment the truck was running, and I could probably make it to a repair shop, if one existed.
The NAPA guy pointed to a little garage / shop across the street, Mike’s Automotive, and told me that they were closed, but he could see people inside. He suggested I drive over there, tell them my story, and NOT tell them he sent me (jokingly).
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