Donner pass just before Truckee about 6000 feet
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psa. 23:4-5). God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble” (Psa. 46:1).
Hey Gang: God had
miraculously filled our quiver. House
sold, vehicles changed in preparation for the move and we now had sufficient
funds in the bank to provide for our trip and needs. Still the thought, that perhaps I was reading
the wrong thoughts into this whole project and was placing my family in
jeopardy, was constantly own my mind. I
wonder where that came from? Any suggestions?
Even as we were loading the vehicles and preparing to say
goodbye to California family, a story was on my mind: A man riding down the road on his donkey
asked for a confirming sign from heaven. He was immediately knocked off his
donkey. He got up and, just to make
sure, he got back on his donkey and said, “Lord, if you meant that for me, give
me another shot!”,
I did not feel I needed another shot but God gave me one
anyway. In my final days of work at
Juvy, I learned that the directorship of the new facility had turned into a
political battle and I did not fit the politics of the appointment. God is good, all the time!
The trip from Pittsburgh, California to Haysville, Ohio took
only five days but it was also five days that have lived in infamy in our minds
and hearts. You will understand as you
read on...
After completing my last 8-hour shift in the Juvenile Hall, on a
Saturday, we had dinner with my parents, we loaded our vagabond family in the
vehicles and headed for Jean’s parent’s home in Haysville, Ohio. My brother, who was somewhat of an
adventurous chap and mechanic, decided he would ride shot-gun for us for a
couple hours. He was driving an MG
convertible- without the top-his intention was to turn back at Donor Pass and
head for warmer climate.
HOWEVER…..
Leaving Pittsburgh, California, (near San Francisco) we
began our trek north to Donor Pass and over the Sierra Mountains. However, in down town Sacramento, some eighty
miles from our starting point, we had our very first catharsis - a flat tire on
the rear of the loaded truck. We were
fortunate that this happened in front a brand-new service station that had all
the latest tire-fixing equipment.
Problem: it was now about 8pm and the attendant of the gas
station was a wet-behind-the-ears lad and not interested in tackling a tire on
a truck that had a freezer, washing machine and dryer on board. So, we did some unloading, got out the trusty
jack, and took the tire off and fixed it -there in the middle of the
million-dollar gas station, right in front of the garage bay that contained all
of the latest tire fixing equipment!
Two hours later we, once again, put the vehicles in gear and
headed for Donor Pass. Jean, the pilot
of the 1950 Econo van that had seen its better days, yours truly behind the
wheel of the Pick Up and Von, my brother in his MG without top. (I emphasize that point as you will see why
later).
The climb up Donor Pass is not steep by most folk’s
standards but, for equipment that had seen better days, it was like climbing Mt
McKinley. The Van hung together until we
reached the summit and began our descent. A red light came on in the Van. Later, the freeze plug in the van blew,
sending water all over the generator. My thought was to push the van over the
cliff and find the nearest motel and at least get some rest for the next day’s
challenges- but saner minds prevailed.
After a board meeting, there by the side of the road, we dug into the
truck and located the log chain that- for some reason - I decided we should
take with us.
Now, as I write this dialog of my recollections of the
battles against the evil one, who was bound and determined that we would not
reach our destination, I can attest to the fact that we never waivered from our
course. Perhaps, there was also some
testing from the Throne Room checking our grit level. I have thought of this test many times and I
am not sure why we chained the Van to the MG instead of the truck, but that is
precisely what we did. Several hours
later we exited the freeway and pulled into the parking lot of Harrah’s
Gambling Casino in Reno, Nevada. It was
the only place that had sufficient lighting to allow us to make the repairs to
the Van.
BUT, before we could tackle that impossible chore, we needed
a miracle. We had to find someplace in
the middle of the night in Reno, Nevada, where we could find a freeze plug for
a 1950 Ford Econo Van. Now, I have no
idea how we ended up at this isolated shop on an isolated street that had a
very worn sign “garage”. A dim light led
us to the entrance where we found an open door and a very-old- gentlemen-I
would guess him to be several hundred years old, unshaven and in coveralls that
were so covered with dirt and grease they would not bend at the knees.
My question to him was in the negative, “Is there even the slightest chance that you
would have a freeze plug for a 1950 Ford Econo Van?” At that moment time stood still; he scratched
his bearded chin and these remarkable words came forth from his mouth – “Yes, I believe I do”. Within minutes he had dug into a drawer in
the back corner of his shop and produced a whole drawer full of freeze plugs.
There were many amazing things that happened that night in
Harrah’s parking lot in Reno, Nevada, but none more amazing then when he
reached into that filthy drawer of freeze plugs and took one in hand and said
with boldness and confidence, “This is
the one you want”. And my friends,
it was the one we wanted.
God is good. All the time.
Tune in again for the next chapter of the vagabond journey that lives on
in infamy- even this day more than fifty years later.
Blessings,
Gramps
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