Part III - The Rest of the Trip

The rest of the trip was basically normal.

Except that I couldn't turn my car off, and Kristin, who now had bungee cords attached to the top of her doors, couldn't get in or out without assistance.  People in that position live a difficult life.  They don't stay anywhere for long.  Rest stops for them are short ones, and restaurants are out of the question.  They live on whatever food they packed with them at the beginning (in our case, crackers and cookies).

Thankfully, Vader got used to traveling, or at least accepted his fate.  After the first few hours he settled down considerably and was a regular gentleman for the rest of the trip, though he did squirm out of his harness at a gas station in Idaho, attracting a crowd of onlookers while we begged him to come out from under the car.

I stopped for gas in Rock Springs, Wyoming, where I knew a mechanic could be found at a reasonable rate.  I should probably explain that I had arranged a job interview in Portland, and both of us wanted to avoid being delayed by car trouble, if we could.  So, when the car started miraculously in Rock Springs after only a couple of tries, we decided to press on.

We stayed the night at a motel in Ogden, Utah.  Kristin made the arrangements while I stayed outside, alternating visits with the imprisoned cat and the running car.  Once parked and in the room, Vader made himself at home, and all three of us were quickly asleep.  I got up early the next day to see if I could diagnose my automotive troubles.  I dug out a battery tester, but couldn't find the AA cells to make it work.  There wasn't much else I could do, except turn the key.  I did so twelve or thirteen times, with no result other than the usual grinding sound (and the appearance of a very large, tattooed man, who came out of his door to glare at me).

Kristin came out to offer her help, and I turned the key once more, to demonstrate the futility of doing so.  Just to be contrary, it started right up.  We packed up quickly and got out of Dodge.

I determined that I had enough gas to get to Twin Falls, Idaho, and made a promise to my car.  If it could just start again in Twin Falls, that would be the last time before we got to Kristin's parents' house in Kennewick, Washington, where we could unpack and try to fix it, or borrow a spare car to take me to my interview in Portland.  The car took me up on my offer, though it took eight or ten tries to get it going.

Unfortunately, I couldn't keep my end of the arrangement.  Kennewick was a few hours more than a tank of gas away, and I had to stop again in La Grande, Oregon.  I admit that by this time I had become a kind of maniac.  I suppose I turned the key twenty times, with the car each time making it's usual grinding sound, and the pump attendant shaking his head and kind of smirking.  I kept on trying, and on maybe the thirtieth, maybe the fourtieth try, there was an extra little cough from under the hood, and the car started up. It was a familiar cough, I thought, much like the one the heroine makes in the opera La Boheme, right before she dies of tuberculosis.

Thus, we made it to Kennewick, had our first real meal in days, and went promptly to sleep.