Through Hell and Buffalo, Texas – an epic journey – Part 6

Last updated on: August 22, 2014 at 4:02 pm by Rebecca Frech

Through Hell and Buffalo, Texas – an epic journey – Part 6 2014-08-22T16:02:38-05:00 Rebecca Frech

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I have no idea how long I sat there watching near misses and waiting for impact before the lights on the dash faintly flickered and then began to glow brighter. The on-again-off-again alternator had begun to charge the battery once more. I pushed the hazard button and heard the reassuring click clack of the lights turning on and off. I whispered a prayer and then turned the key in the ignition.

The engine sputtered and tried to start. My heart leaped with hope. I counted slowly to ten and then tried it again. The engine roared to life as if it hadn’t been dead just moments before. I swiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, looked for a hole in traffic, and zoomed off the highway.

I pulled into the nearest parking lot, and with trembling hands called my husband to tell him I was safe. Then I changed the GPS preferences to “avoid highways”. I had no choice but to keep going, but if my car died again I wanted to be able to get out of harm’s way. The time to my destination changed from 20 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. So be it.

It was only then that I glanced around at where I was – a heavily industrial part of Houston with very little traffic. I crossed myself and said “God, please don’t let me have problems here. There’s no one to help me anywhere nearby. Just let me get to her safely. I’ve had enough. I just want my friend and a mechanic.”

The streets of Houston are a confusing web of twists and turns. Residential areas run right up into refineries. One area looks like another. It truly is a city meant to be navigated by highway. The only people who venture off into it are the people who live there. This meant that it was only a short time before I had no idea at all where I was. I couldn’t see the highways any longer, but I drove determinedly on. I hoped that the GPS had a clue where we were, because I was lost.

The parts of town through which I drove got progressively worse until eventually all the houses I saw were boarded up or had heavy bars on the windows. The closed up shops were decorated heavily with graffiti. My heart was pounding up in my throat as I prayed to just keep going. “Please, just let me get out of this neighborhood.” I pleaded.

I turned left when the GPS told me to only to be met with an orange and white striped wooden barrier and a sign that announced “Road Closed.” I made a u-turn and went back to the main road. The next left and it too was closed, as were the next four streets after it. The GPS determinedly told me to turn around and go back to the first street I’d turned on. “You’re not helping.” I growled at it and tried one more street.

I was met with yet another barricaded street, and was at a loss for what to do next. Still shaken from the highway and frustrated by dead ends, I threw the car into park, put my head in my hands and sobbed. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t there just a a street that went where I wanted to go? It was that kind of ugly crying where your whole face just leaks, and I didn’t care because no one could see me any way.

Then there was a tap on my window, a quiet but very real knock. Startled, I rolled down the window for a young man in his late teens or early twenties. I hadn’t seen him or his friends when I’d turned onto this last street. They had been hanging out on a front porch smoking and lounging around, until I’d intruded.

“Hey, lady, didja need something?” he asked me skeptically.

I let out my breath slowly and then said in a high-pitched rush “IwasjustcomingtoHoustontoseemyfriendbutthenthecarbrokedowninBuffaloTexasandIspentthenightintheNormanBateshotelthenIgotupanddrovetotHoustonbutthecardiedonthehighway*andIalmostdied!!!!*butthenitstartedagainandIgotoffthehighwayandI’mfollowingtheGPS…but I’m lost….” as I gestured wildly at the lights lit up on my dash. (I might or might not have whimpered at that point.)
He shook his head and said “Man, that sucks.” He glanced back at his friends and then told me “They’re fixing the roads here, so what you’ve gotta do is go down about a mile further and then turn left. If you try it before a mile, you can’t get through.” With that, he turned to walk back towards his friends. As he did, he adjusted his pants and revealed the very real outline of a gun tucked into his waistband.

And I laughed. High pitched and hysterical. A gun. Holy crap! And I laughed.

Gasping and laughing until I was close to hyperventilating, I fought to regain control of myself. In near hysterics, I drove back to the main road and followed his instructions. Sure enough, a mile down the road and I was past the construction. Thirty minuted later, the GPS and phone both ran out of power as I reached the store where my friend was teaching her class.

On shaking legs, I staggered through the front door and the sales girl gasped, “You’re here at last!” and pointed me towards the classroom in back.

I stepped into that room full of women and my roommate looked up and saw me. She stopped talking mid-sentence and worked her way to me as quickly as she could. We threw our arms around each other and she kissed my cheek. “Thank you for coming,” she quietly said. “I love you.”

I wiped my eyes for the last time that weekend and said “I love you so much that I’ve come through Hell and Buffalo, Texas to get here. Now I think I just need to sit down and catch my breath.”

Here we are two days later. After enough time for the swollen eyes to lose their puffiness and for the car to get a new alternator.

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December 5, 2013

Through Hell and Buffalo, Texas - an epic journey - Part 5

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