Little America near Rte 80 sing on left; Laramie near Rte 80 sign before Cheyene; Route 80 was under construction , thus the detour over the mountain.
“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: Serious question? Do you think I might have questioned
whether-or-not I had heard God- or did I place my family in jeopardy chasing a
pipe dream? It was now Monday noon, still Day Three. We had decided to stop in
Salt Lake City and get the heating problem fixed, BUT… at the Ford Garage
learned it would be four-day wait! This was unacceptable to my wallet. So, it was ‘on the road again’.
Note: We had
no cell phones 50 years ago. We left
California Family and they were praying; the Ohio Family didn’t know we were on
the road. Neither did we have any communication between vehicles. After all we had made this ‘Three-Day Trip’
several times!
The storm had
passed us by. leaving two or more inches of wet snow on the highway which had
turned to slush. Slush that covered the
windshield and built up around the wheel wells, which required periodic stops
to scrap the ice from the windshield.
Shortly after leaving Salt Lake City we began to notice cars and trucks
coming from the East were covered with ice, which brought us to crisis number
six.
Due to the ice
buildup under the Van and it was becoming more difficult to steer. We were now dealing with a slushy-icy road,
ice on the Van, and increasing very-wet-snow from above. It did not take brain power to realize I was
a hazard on the highway and had best find an Oasis to crawl into until the
storm passed and we could get heat into the Van and the roads cleared. That Oasis turned out to be a
motel-gas-station complex called Little
America in Western Wyoming.
Upon arriving
we learned there was one motel unit left and we immediately moved in. Wasn’t
that lucky? I, then, went to the gas
station to see if they could repair the heating problem; but- they did not have
the needed equipment to solve the problem.
While there[] , seeking advice on the roads East, I
talked with three knights-of-the-road. Truck drivers strongly suggested I stay
put until the storm was well past and the road cleared; however, there was also
a salesman who suggested the road was not too bad and he was planning on
continuing.
We arose early
Tuesday, Day Four ready to hit the road, but better sense held us at bay for
several hours- waiting for better road conditions. Crisis seven was the seventy-mile trip from
Little America to Rawlins, Wyoming, praying we would find there a Ford Garage.
The seventy miles was agonizingly slow, with
frequent stops to clean the windshield and chip ice away from the front
wheels. The most fabulous thing I saw on
the entire trip was the sign “Rawlins, Two Miles”. My bride had gone ahead to check out the
town; she then met me at the off ramp and led me to the Ford Garage, where they
were waiting for my arrival.
Our time at
the Garage was a wonderful reprieve and rest from the vehicles. We were blessed with a mechanic who had a
sense of humor and kept reminding us how foolish we were to be on the roads in
the midst of this storm. He was an old
Okie whose favorite saying, during our tenure with him was, “You d___
fools”. And at moment I had no
rebuttal. The sign on the side of the
truck said, “Eagle Boys Village!”
While in
Rawlins we learned that that the road over the Rocky Mountains, between Laramie
and Cheyenne, closed at sun down and would remained closed until about noon the
next day with current weather conditions.
I use the word
road loosely. It was more like a well-worn cow-path with much
traffic. With the mountain entrance in
sight, we stopped to gas the vehicles- only to find the gas cap was frozen on
and the gas pipe frozen shut. Once
again, we were very lucky for this
was a common problem and the attendant had it freed up within minutes, gas
tanks filled and into the line heading for the gate.
I could write
a several-paged dissertation on our trip over the mountain but will use
discipline and give you the short version. Highway 80 was being constructed;
this road was a dirt road and extremely difficult to keep the vehicles out of
all the ruts. I am not sure how far it was up the mountain or how many feet we
climbed that night, BUT this I know! The
1950 Econo van was very tired, as were the drivers, and not pleased to be
placed under these foul conditions -but we refused to declare defeat!
I believe this
is a good place to put this to bed for today and finish it tomorrow. Be sure and tune in for the last chapter of
the Six Vagabonds and one Chijuahau Dog.
Blessings,
Gramps
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