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Through Hell and Bufflalo, TX – an epic journey – Part 2

Through Hell and Bufflalo, TX – an epic journey – Part 2

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

Through Hell and Bufflalo, TX – an epic journey – Part 2 2014-08-22T16:02:38-05:00 Rebecca Frech

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(In case you missed part 1, go read it here. We’ll wait for you to catch up.)

After driving past it twice, I finally found the mechanic shop. The faded sign in front said something I interpreted as “battery and alternator,” but it’s possible that I was just imagining it.

There were no lights on inside the building, and the junk strewn about the yard made it look uninhabited. I stopped the car and reminded myself “best mechanic I know.” I determinedly tried to ignore the end of that statement. As promised, there was an old RV standing behind the shop. Where the shop was completely dark, the RV glowed with light and the sound from a football game carried across the yard. I sighed and got out of the car.

The rain had turned back to heavy mist, but I was so wet by now that it didn’t matter. Cold water dripped from my hair and ran down my back. As I walked toward the camper, I saw that the windows were weatherstripped with old duct tape and the satellite dish was held on with c-clamps. “Best mechanic I know.”

I knocked on the door and then waited. Nothing stirred. I banged on the door with all my might. The camper door rattled and looked as if it might fall off, but then nothing. I started to walk away, but some dumb voice in my head said “You’re a big girl. You need help. Look in that window and see if he’s there.”

I did.

There was Bill…not quite in his altogether, but close. He was wearing boxer shorts and socks, and sleeping peacefully on his makeshift sofa. His hand was wrapped around his beer, and the better part of a twelve pack lay strewn on the floor around him. Clearly the “when he’s sober” part was not going to apply today.

I was almost back to my car when I saw Bill’s nearest neighbor leaving his office. It was half an acre or more away, but I was desperate. “HEY!” I hollered at him. “Don’t get in your truck yet! I need to ask you something!”

I don’t know if it was his surprise, my bedraggled appearance as I ran straight at him, or just Texas-bred manners that kept him there – but he waited, clearly amused. I slogged through the marshy grass and climbed over a low pipe-fence to get to him.

“I need a mechanic.” I told him. “My battery light is on and I need a part for it. It’s after 5:00 on a Friday and I’m not from here, but I need a mechanic. Where do I go?”

He studied me for a moment before pulling out his cell phone and dialing a number. “Hey, Steve, you still open?” He listened briefly before saying, “I know it’s closing time, but I’m sending a little gal to you who is having some trouble with her car. It’s no big thing. It’ll take you five minutes and then you can close and she can get back on her way to wherever she’s going in such a hurry.” a minute longer and then “sure thing, Steve. Thanks.”

He hung up the phone and told me, “Ma’am, you need to go back the way you came and then a little bit further. It’ll be about eight miles total, give or take. You look for the big Napa Auto Parts Superstore. It’ll be on your left. Steve is waiting for you.” He turned on his heel, climbed up into the cab of his dually truck, touched the brim of his hat, and drove off.

Back in the car and on the road again, I prayed and hoped like anything that I had enough power to go eight more miles. I sweated out the stop lights in town – both of them – and eventually spotted that Napa sign hanging over a bright blue corrugated metal building. Superstore was about the last word I’d have used to describe it.

The inside of the parts store was maybe 18′ x 20′. The OPEN sign had been turned off, but there were three ol’ boys leaning against the counter and drinking coffee. The one behind the counter smiled as I walked in and said “You the gal I’m waiting for?” I nodded as he took the keys from my hand and walked past me out the door.

I fished my phone and its charger out of my purse and called after him, “Is it alright if I plug this in? It died a few hours ago and my husband will be worried.”

“Help yourself,” he tossed back.

The plug was in the back of the shop and halfway up a wall. I plugged the phone in, and was relieved to hear the familiar buzz as it began to charge. I held it in my hand and leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. It was almost 6:00 and a little mental math told me that if I left soon-ish I could be in Houston by 9:00.

I rested there about 10 minutes – texting my husband that I was still alive and getting the car fixed, and my friend that I was in Buffalo, Texas with car trouble but would be there in a few hours.

Steve came to find me in the back of his store, and his face did not look reassuring. “I’m sorry to tell you this ma’am…”

“What?” I croaked out.

“Well…you see…I fixed the battery connector like you asked – it was broken sure enough – but something in my gut told be to test your alternator…so I did. Well…you see…it’s dead. You’re running on battery power. I figure if you’re lucky that you can go maybe 30 minutes down the road. I’m sorry to tell you, but you need an alternator.”

Thirty minutes was not enough no matter how you measured it. I was two hours plus a bit from home, and two hours plus a bit from Houston. I was smack in the middle with nowhere to go. The tears just poured down my face right then. I didn’t even try to stop them. It wasn’t ugly crying, just frustration leaking out. I texted my husband “the alternator is dead.” His reply was “get a new one then. We’ll figure out warranties and stuff when you get home.”

“Do you have one, and is there someone who can put it in?” I asked the parts man. “I know it’s late, but I can pay a little extra.”

“Well,” he drawled, “I do know a guy who could, but that’s not the issue. That car out there is a Lexus, and you can’t find a part for that car anywhere near here. I can order you one. It’ll be here first thing Monday morning.”

Monday morning. She’d be on her way back to Virginia and I would have missed her.

“Any chance that you can bring me one? They don’t have Lexus parts here.” I typed to my husband with shaking hands.

“Probably?” Was his hopeful reply.

I stood there for a moment in that Napa store, and considered my options. There weren’t that many. No matter how I sliced it, I was going to be spending the night in Buffalo.

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Through Hell and Buffalo, TX - an epic jouney - Part 1

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