Last week was spent packing our home of nine years, then loading it onto a truck to be driven 722 miles to Vancouver. Late Thursday night, we headed over to PetSmart to pick up a couple dog beds and encountered sticker shock. The bed size that fit our large dogs were $75 a piece! We then drove over to Wal-Mart to maybe find a cheaper alternative, but realized the beds at the pet store were the best option. We went back, and while debating which colors to pick, an employee walked by and mentioned the beds would be on sale the very next morning for 50% off. My eyes filled with tears as this was a small blessing. I've felt like we're bleeding cash at times, and this small gesture (and stretched emotions) almost got the better of me. Friday was spent packing all the items that the movers would not, which is every chemical and product that could potentially create a leak and ruin possessions. We boxed the last minute items too and loaded everything into our 30' trailer in a 5' space to allow room for our Honda, thus creating one tightly packed possible bomb. Saturday morning the dogs were then placed in the back of the truck with their kennels creating a makeshift dog run with the beds and bones for chewing. We finally headed out of Logan at 11 am. It was so foggy, we weren't able to get a backwards glance in. And honestly it was probably a good thing as we were still teary eyed from our final video of our home. The drive went well and we arrived in Boise at 4:30 pm. The hotel was pet friendly, and we opted to pay the extra fee to let the dogs sleep in the room with us. Sunday morning we awoke early. While walking the dogs, a guy stopped us and asked if he paid us some money could he use our cell phone. Jax started barking, so Bryan said we'd left the phone in our hotel room. The whole thing seemed weird any ways, but when Jax went off we knew something was not right. We got on the road by 9 am. About 17 miles outside of Ontario, Oregon the unthinkable happened. For those who have flown, when preparing to land there is a loud noise as the pilot opens the doors to allow the landing gear to extend. This is exactly the type of noise we heard come from the rear of our truck. The left rear suddenly dropped some, and Bryan gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles as we slowly pulled to the right hand side of I-84 to stop. Just before stopping, there was a loud explosion and our tire started to roll down the highway. In the ensuing panic and shock, I quickly unlatched my seat belt and jumped out of the truck and pelted after that tire. I did not want any traffic to hit it and cause more chaos, nor did I want the tire destroyed. Once I rolled the tire to Bryan (it's a 33" and extremely heavy), I noticed our wheel was laying in the middle section between the east and westbound freeway. Yes, I did look both ways, making clearly sure it was safe and then ran across to retrieve it. When Bryan looked up to see what we should do next, he saw me in the section for authorized vehicles only and started to panic. As there is not much traffic on the I-84 I was able to cross back pretty quickly, and then told to sit in the truck with my seat belt on. I had the task of sitting in the driver's seat warning Bryan every time a semi went by so he could brace for impact just in case. One car got my middle finger as he passed within inches of the truck, when he could have moved lanes as no one was around him for miles. Bryan was able to put our spare tire on, which was low on air. The process took about 30 minutes. We then drove 20 mph a mile down the road to the Stinker Station (I'm not making this up). As the accident had sheared three of the eight lug studs, we had to borrow a lug from each wheel to put the spare on. We stopped at the Stinker to see if they possibly had any lug nuts, but they didn't. Knowing that Ontario was only 15 miles away or so, we decided to push on. The town had a tire center and hotels. We figured it was our best chance. We drove at 35 mph with hazards flashing for 15 miles, then missed the exit and had to drive another mile to turn around and head back. We pulled into Les Schwab which was right off the freeway but as it was Sunday, they were not open. We tried calling, thinking they may have an after hours emergency number, but no such luck. Instead we listened to the ringing of their phone on the obnoxiously loud intercom. Knowing we were stuck, I told Bryan to drive over to the hotel, which looked really nice due to how new it must have been (it was built in 2008). While he stayed with the truck trying to decide if we should just drive really slow all the way to Vancouver, I went inside and spoke with the hotel manager. He did have a room available for only $77 (which was cheaper than the hotel I had reserved in Vancouver). He also had the home phone numbers for the Les Schwab manager and Big O Tire manager. Both did not answer, but he left messages and told me if we were able to get help that day, he wouldn't charge me for the room, even if we did use it for sitting and laying down. He even offered the use of the hotel's pool and spa, which made me wish I had packed my swimsuit with me. After driving to the hotel, Bryan found that the drum had been barely crushed out of round once the wheel had fallen off and impacted the concrete. We weren't limping anywhere. He called around to several parts stores, and found the closest drum was in Boise. After that was Aurora, Colorado. We unloaded the Honda and he headed back to Boise to get the necessary parts, while I stayed in Ontario to do laundry and be with the dogs. Unfortunately, Bryan's hour and a half drive was extended to 2 and a half due to road work. He was finally able to get the parts and drove all the way back. We had dinner at the Sizzler across from the hotel and then went to bed, beaten to our very core. In the morning we awoke to freezing rain, a new sensation for us. It was so cold, and extremely slick. We drove to the Les Schwab and were smacked with a rude dose of corporate lawyer crap. We told our story, and the Les Schwab employee told us he would not use the parts we had obtained and we would have to wait 2-3 days for the drum to show up. Bryan said "Thanks for NOT helping us, we'll give our business to the Big O, and where is that exactly?" I couldn't believe it, but the guy actually gave us directions and we walked out in a huff. When we arrived at the Big O I was afraid we'd get the same treatment. But Brandon and Mike were not Les Schwab. They listened to our story, how rude Schwab was and immediately went to work helping us figure out what we needed. Even though they did not have enough wheels nor tires in stock, they did have one steel white wheel that would work. They mounted the tire that I had chased down, then called around town and found a mechanic that could fix our drum. We were once again afraid we'd find additional damage to the rear end differential. Lonnie at Justus Auto located in Fruitland, Idaho fixed the drum in a couple hours. When we went to pick up the truck, Lonnie chatted with us about mechanicing and how he specialized in rear ends. We drove the truck back to the hotel to pick up our trailer and reload the Honda. We were finally fixed and ready to go. For the next nine hours we drove at 50-55 mph in fear of hearing that horrible loud skimming noise followed by an explosion. When we got past La Grande, and found ourselves on Cabbage Hill, we were awestruck. The beauty of the frost and grandiose view left us speechless. We pulled into Vancouver around 10 pm, safe and sound.
It wasn't until later that the reality of our situation really hit. Bryan was able to keep steady hands and not roll our truck, with the 30' trailer that had our Honda. All three would have been totaled, meaning we wouldn't have a vehicle to call our own. Nivia dislikes the loud exhaust of our truck, so sits over the left wheel well, getting as far away from the noise as possible. When the wheel failed, it split in half around the wheel, like cutting out a donut. The tire could have easily been sliced and cut into the rear quarter. If you've ever watched a NASCAR race and seen a rear tire blow, it quickly shreds the quarter panels to bits. Somehow the tire stayed in tact, which kept Nivia safe on her perch. I wouldn't have been able to bear the thought of burying a dog. Bryan and I were both wearing our seat belts, something I've always been good about, but Bryan has a bad habit due to all the in n' out when working as a mechanic. We were also so close to a town with decent amenities, and good people. The hotel manager, John, Mike and Brandon at Big O, and Lonnie. We had the good fortune of having a mechanic fix our rear end that specialized specifically in that. Last was the final drive over Cabbage Hill down into Pendleton. If the wheel had waited until then to fail, it wouldn't have been a quick coast on a long stretch of lonesome highway. The tight hairpin turns, steep cliffs and miles of 15' snow mountain sides would have meant instant death. A guardian angel had been with us on that drive. He made sure our truck stayed straight, that our baby girl was safe, our possessions didn't explode into the cold freezing rain, and our lungs were still filling with precious air. Every prayer I've said on this trip has ended with thank you for this opportunity. The opportunity to live in Vancouver, to be with my family safe, to stay in a hotel instead of a hospital, to have my life.
And that maybe, just maybe, (although we didn't make it Mulligan free) the stay at a Holiday Inn Express that night made all the difference in the world.
