I awoke in the rest area and went into the bathroom to clean up. I then checked the oil in the Dodge and headed back out onto the highway. The first exit with coffee and gas got me off the highway, but it seemed the closer I got to Texas the more serious the gravitational pull was on me. My driving was becoming more dedicated than it was at the beginning of the trip. Oddly I felt like I had been traveling for weeks.
Around noon I crossed the Oklahoma state line. Just as I crossed into my second-to-last state, I heard a horrible grinding coming from the front end of my car. I was devastated. I wondered if I should just ignore this. Could I possibly make it worse by driving on it? I debated for much longer than I should have.
I was sure now that in light of this new development, I would not be stopping in Oklahoma City to see Kathy. Even if I was not having car troubles, I did not seem to be in the headspace for a detour like that. I wanted to see my Father.
I seriously considered running it all the way to Port Aransas like this. I feared because, at this point in my life, I could not even guess what was going wrong with my car. In high school, I took auto shop, but it really gave me no instincts about anything. I would grow talents far beyond my wildest dreams of automotive whispering. I actually allowed this to continue down the Will Rogers Turnpike and then onto Oklahoma Route 69 which runs southeast right through Tornado Alley. Little did I know that there were some of the most awesome storms I'd ever seen just down the roadways. I did not have to face them, yet I would. Ignorance is bliss.
I could not stand it any longer. I was passing through the town of Pryor, Oklahoma and I finally gave in and pulled into a very small service station. The old fella there was very slowly working on something else. But he dropped what he was doing and attended to me and my injured Victoria-Lynn.
"Well son", said the mechanic wiping the sweat from his grease-stained forehead. "It's a good thing you shutter' down. This car would've blown up any second. Nope, I'm sorry. This is the end of the line for your Dodge."
That's not what he said, but believe it or not, I was worried that it might come to this! This would have actually been a great time for a “me” from the future to suddenly appear and smack me upside the head for being such a dumbass about cars. Fortunately, that did not happen.
He took the left front brake drum off. There were torn twisted chunks of steel inside that I'd been grinding since Joplin, Missouri. He asked me to hop into his truck and we drove to a Chrysler dealership and found a brake adjuster cable. We went back, and he talked a little. Me not understanding a damn word this guy was saying.
Within an hour and a half from the time I stopped, I was on the road again for a mere 11 dollars. He could have charged me fifty and I would not have questioned it, but this gentleman in Pryor Oklahoma was an honest working man. He restored my vehicle’s good running condition and I was southbound and down on US 69 again. That was how I was first received by the Will Rogers Turnpike. We were good for now, but Will Rogers and I were far from finished.
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