We rented a room for me while my husband hitched a ride to Ft. Nelson–some 150 miles distant–to procure an oil pan. The rooms for rent were small. Very small. Just enough space for a double bed and a walkway on either side. Luggage had to be strategically placed so one would not trip over it while getting in or out the door. All rooms opened into a narrow hallway which led to the café. Doors had 5 inch gaps at the top and bottom along with a hook and eye lock mechanism. Sleeping with all my clothes on that first night, one might think I did not feel very secure. I didn’t. Particularly when I discovered the gentleman across the hall was the only other patron in that section and he looked pretty scruffy! I learned later that he was a geologist who had just returned after a three day mountainous hike.
Meanwhile my husband was quite busy once he arrived in Ft. Nelson. Scoping out the junk yards, he was able to find an oil pan that could replace the damaged one and did not cost much (we were definitely on a budget now). Carrying this dirty bulky part, he decided he would try to get back to The Village in time to catch a few Z’s. Luckily he found a trucker willing to transport him. Unfortunately, about eight miles out of town, the truck’s engine crashed. The two of them along with the oil pan caught a ride back into Ft. Nelson. Finding a ride north wasn’t quite so easy the second time around. Daylight was on the horizon when he decided to walk back to the truck and try hitchhiking from there. Within a few minutes of arriving at the crippled truck, a small vehicle stopped. The young couple inside offered him a ride in the overflowing car. After shuffling items around in the backseat, they managed to get enough space for sitting. My husband removed his coat, wrapped up the oil pan, and off they went.
Four hours later, (remember this is a gravel road) they pulled into The Village. My husband immediately set to work replacing the oil pan only to discover that the starter ring gear (necessary for a vehicle to start) was bent. In order to remove this segment, the engine needed to slide forward. Putting that ingenuity to work, he found some trees that had been severed, which would work well in building a tripod. Fortunately the owner of The Village had a hoist which he lent for the cause. After intensive labor (on his part) and cheerleading (on my part), he was successful in his endeavor to remove the ring gear. He then had to hitchhike to Toad River, the next camp down the road, where he was told he could find the necessary equipment to straighten and re-weld the ring gear. Arriving back at The Village after yet another successful hitchhike, he was able to get the parts in the car and, ‘viola’, it started. That was a wonderful sound!
Early in the morning, beginning what would have been our fifth day as guests of The Village, we packed up and headed down the road once more. The little Corvette was running smoothly as we were approaching Ft. Nelson. Suddenly we began to hear a rubbing sound that was abnormal. Being paranoid at this point in our trip, we were not leaving town before getting it checked out. Of course it was not anything simple. The alignment strut mount was broken which was causing the right rear wheel to retract into the fender well, thus rubbing the inside of the fender. It needed to be re-welded and was only 2 inches from the fuel tank. We located a mechanic who was able to position an asbestos blanket over the fuel tank in order to get the job accomplished. Eyeballing the alignment, we were out of town by noon.
Ten days on the road and we were still on the Alaska Highway - 2,400 miles from our destination with Easter a mere 2 ½ days off. The only way we could get to Missouri in our allotted time was to stop only for food, gas, and naps (in the car).
Approximately 90 miles outside of Dawson Creek the road was paved. One could feel the sigh of relief not only from we human occupants, but the car too. It purred along like a kitten, never shutting down except for food and gas.
Midnight was upon us as we approached Jamestown, North Dakota. We were traversing hills in rain and dense fog when we unexpectedly found ourselves hydroplaning. Fortunately there wasn’t any traffic and we had two lanes in which to get the car under control. The adrenaline was sure flowing at that point though! A few more miles down the road the fog was so dense it reminded us of ice fog in Fairbanks, Alaska at 50 below zero. Slowing our speed, we felt like there was a vehicle ahead of us but there were no visible taillights. All of a sudden a semi-truck was in our windshield with no trailer lights. There was one reflector which allowed us to comprehend how close we were and to get around the big rig safely. With those two encounters behind us, it was time to shut down for a nap.
The remainder of the trip was relatively uneventful as we rolled into Kansas City, Missouri, very early Easter morning. Being quite tired we found ourselves going the wrong way on a one-way bridge. Realizing this only when several oncoming headlights were heading toward us, a u-turn was immediately completed. Afterward we were wide awake. It then took some detective work with our map to find the course onto the correct bridge.
One hour before Easter Services began, we drove into my parents driveway. Both of us were very happy to be at our final destination. After a quick shower and change of clothes, we felt like new people heading off to Church. My husband had pulled it off–I was home for Easter!
Stay tuned for part III
