In which the jeep shit the bed.

Tuesday, I got the jeep from the mechanic for a mere $500 (*gag*) and was on the road by two. I drove 460 miles or so to Burley, Idaho – the jeep drove perfectly the whole day – and on the third try I finally found a motel with a vacancy. By 11:30, the dog and I were passed out.

The next morning, the thing wouldn’t start. Same symptoms as before: it would try to turn over, but didn’t seem to be getting any fuel.

I pulled out my cell phone, booted up the Google Maps application I’d downloaded a couple of weeks ago, and found a nearby parts store. I had them deliver a fuel pump relay to me in the motel parking lot. You know, just in case. What the hell.

The new relay didn’t help. I put the old one back in, and mysteriously, the engine coughed and sputtered and finally lit up. It squealed like talons on a blackboard for awhile, but eventually the belt settled down and all was a go.

People call Chicago the windy city, but lemmie tell you what: driving I-84 into Boise is in-fucking-SANE. Driving straight up a steep grade with a brutal head wind SUCKS, and I’m not even mentioning what it does to your gas mileage. I tried to stop for food in Boise because I was starving, but the exit I took had nothing I wanted to eat so I only got gas. The interstate through there is under intense construction, so I didn’t bother with any of the other exists.

Soon we were in Oregon. We stopped in Baker City for gas and lunch – I got to eat at my favorite left-coast junk food chain, Taco Time. When I got back on the interstate, the jeep starting dying every so often. It was acting like it was full of bad gas, because it would choke and cough, and if I pulled over and let it sputter for a bit it would even out and I could drive again for another ten miles or so. But… coming down off of the Blue Mountains, there’s a stretch of 6% down grade. The jeep died, but since the key was in the ON position I had steering and brakes, and I just coasted at 60 MPH to the bottom where I pulled over and started it back up. Still, one’s freakin’ engine should not go CLUNK! every so often and die at highway speeds, it just isn’t nice.

For awhile I thought it was an electrical problem, because it wouldn’t die if I had all the electric items – like the heater – turned off. It’s cold in the mountains and the jeep’s cab is hardly airtight, so I was bundled up in coats and sweaters. Just about the time I’d decided I’d solved the fuel delivery problem – some electrical problem with the heater circuit causing the fuel pump circuit to fail intermittantly – it died again. With the heater off.

Crap. This is what it was doing before it died and spent three days in Rawlins. Something is killing my fuel pump!

I finally made it to exit 214 toward Milton-Freewater. Bindu was demanding to be let out of the damn car RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT, so I stopped and walked her. We were less than an hour away! Please, jeep gods, just get me there. I loaded the dog up and pushed on.

20 miles later, the fucking jeep OVERHEATED. Overheated! WTF?! I’d been driving along, thinking, “Oh my ghod, I think we’re going to make it, PLEASE let me make it, I’m soooo close,” and then I glanced down at my gauges and was 20 degrees from being in the red. I pulled over and greasy coolant-laden steam washed over my windshield.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!! I had no water. I usually travel with a couple of gallons, because once, years ago, the thermostat decided to stick in the middle of Nebraska, but Bindu and I had already drunk it all. I banged my head on the steering wheel. So freakin’ close.

A woman and her sister pulled over and offered to help, but before I could take them up on their offer and send them to get water, a man in a work truck pulled up too. He had gloves and several gallons of water. He told me that he thought I might have a blown head gasket, because the radiator never stopped bubbling even after we let the jeep run for several minutes full of water. He said he’d leave the cap slightly loose so the air pressure wouldn’t build up and push all the water out again.

All I had to do to thank him for his wonderful help was read the tract he gave me. “I’m not affiliated with no church or nothin’,” he said humbly, “but I wrote this tract, see, and had ’em printed up my own self. If you read it, we’ll be square.”

“I love these!” I enthused. “I will read it, and thank you so much for stopping! God bless!”

The woman and her sister didn’t want me left alone on the highway, and announced they’d follow me to Walla Walla, since that’s where they were headed themselves. I got back on the road.

…and four miles later, pulled off again. The water had all boiled out of the loose radiator cap, and the temperature was going up again. Not wanting to warp what’s left of my engine, I prudently decided to give up… a mere 22 miles from my destination.

I called Grandma, and she called my uncle, and he called me. While waiting for him, I had a groovy talk with the sisters about religion as we looked over our tracts. They’re interesting chicks, older than me by maybe ten years, and earnest and smart conversationalists. My phone rang and I got back in the jeep and talked to my mom – “I just saw on the Twitter thing on your web site that the jeep blew up?! Where are you?!?!” – and my brother – “Dude. Suckage. For real.” – and then my uncle pulled up in his big ol’ truck.

While he nosed around under the hood, I exchanged phone numbers with my new friends so we can meet for coffee this weekend. They were really sweet to wait with me, and I’m never one to look a potential gift friend in the mouth.

Uncle made me drive another couple of miles to see if the jeep was really going to overheat again, and when it did he hooked a strap to it and towed me the last 20 miles home. Being towed in the dark on a 12′ strap is weird, because all you can see is the tailgate of the truck in front of you, but he got me where I was going. “That’s what family’s for,” he said, and shrugged.

Grandma fed me a cup of hot tea and a bowl of hot soup, and helped me make up my bed. The dog and I slept like the dead. When I got up this morning I was starving, so I had a fried egg sandwich and Bindu begged shamelessly.

Today I’ve been rearranging the room to my tastes, and slowly bringing stuff in from the jeep. I even found a wireless connection to use (which I wasn’t expecting because I couldn’t connect from this very spot when I was here for the birthday party. YAY PIRATED WIRELESSNESS!) so I may not have to walk to a coffee shop to blog.

In half an hour, I have a phone interview with Blue Mountain Internet, so I’d better get myself a cup of tea and get situated for that.

After 11 long years, I live in Walla Walla again!