The Essentials of Driving

Every Wednesday morning, Jon and I like to join a group of Anchor Point Nazarenes at Homer's Caribou Family Restaurant (a Mom and Pop sorta place) for breakfast.

This morning on our way home, we decided to continue driving up the hill past our house to the gas station at the top.

The Hunters (a couple who started both the Homer and Anchor Point churches) are lending us a 4x4 while they spend the next couple months in the Lower 48. They leave Monday.

Approximately 2-3 blocks past our house, Jon shifts gears and the vehicle dies. He pulls to the side and turns on his hazards, but the vehicle acts like it might kick back on. Shame on us, we waited too long to get gas...and I was the last person to drive it. Jon turns around in the middle of the road and hopes the last bit of fuel shifts and is fed into the fuel pump. We start coasting downward, but the car doesn't stay running.

There is our house. Should we turn in or keep going?

We kept going, but the hill soon leveled out and we were losing speed. Coming up on the right side of the road was a small dirt turnout where everyone parks their cars for sale. We pulled right on in next to them.

Riley Hunter had left the Caribou Restaurant about the same time we did, but didn't turn toward home, so I assume he ran an errand or two. We were afraid he be driving by about this time and see the vehicle we borrowed from him parked in the "sale lot."

"Are the Ralphs trying to make money off my car? He might wonder. "What kind of pastors are these?"

We figured if he passed he'd get a chance to ask us since we crunched our way up the road on the snow-packed sidewalk (I was thankful there even was a sidewalk) back toward the house.

Nearly one mile later, we slid our way into our icy driveway, took a potty stop, and loaded into the van.

The gas can we own held a gallon of fuel and we didn't trust that amount would get us to the gas station, so we found our way to the Napa Auto Parts store and purchased their largest container.

Unfortunately, the only ones they had were stored on the top shelf (maybe 8-9 ft up). When Jon asked the lady behind the counter for a gas can, she pointed and said, "They're up there."

Jon is tall, but not that tall. Finally she understood that he needed her to get her little hook-stick tool and lower it down to him. Duh!

Now we're onto the gas station and really, the rest is history. We were able to get the Jimmy filled with fuel and even topped off the van.

I wasn't brave enough to park the van back in our driveway because it is glare ice half way up. For some reason, the city only sands up to the church's parking lot. So, that is where our Montana is parked.

It was an "exciting" morning and we even got a little unplanned workout in there, too.

Maybe one day we'll be able to use our large 6-gallon gas can for a boat or a 4-wheeler. Or maybe there will be someone else as brainless as we were (or as I am) who needs a re-fill on gas in the middle of the highway.