Saturday, September 17, and Sunday, September 18
As I said in the abbreviated post for Day 9, we should have known our luck would run out at some point. It had really been a very easy trip: we navigated the highway system with ease, found a reasonable place to stay each night, and had mostly decent weather all the way across the country.
There were a couple little glitches, like the brake light. Which, by the way, is fixed. It must have been a loose connection because after we couldn’t figure out how to extract the socket to replace the bulb, we plugged the wires back into the socket and figured we’d get some help when we could. A day or two later we realized that we were not getting a warning light every time we stepped on the brake. At our next rest stop I checked and the brake light was working again! So there must have been a loose connection, and all was well.
On Sunday we left Lonoke, Arkansas, where we had stayed on Saturday night. The Day’s Inn was clearly an older motel which had been moved to the brand, and while it wasn’t luxurious it was clean and well-maintained. It was a decent place to stay, and pleasant in a throwback kind of way.
Not new, but clean and well-kept.
Dasn and Chonk had some definite opinions about breakfast. But Waffle House was packed, so they agreed - reluctantly - to settle for Sonic.
We intended to drive as far as Birmingham, Alabama and spend the night, leaving just a relatively short stretch for Monday morning, and allowing time for a visit to Vulcan Park. We had visited Vulcan on our last trip, but it’s a lovely park, and we hadn’t had time for everything when we were there.
We sailed through the remainder of Arkansas, crossed the Mississippi on the restored I-40 bridge at Memphis, and headed south through the corner of Mississippi and into Alabama. By mid-afternoon we were in our fourth state for the day, and rolling up the miles with ease. We realized we would be in Birmingham by five o’clock - far too early to stop for the day.
Dash and Chonk try to see over the guardrail to get a glimpse of the Mississippi River as we cross from Arkansas into Tennessee.
That sliver of blue is the Mighty Mississippi. We just weren't in a place to get a good picture of the river.
Two images of Nashville: the massive pyramid that is the iconic Bass Pro Shop, and the rail yards with cranes that can load and unload containers.
The next city was Montgomery, just 90 miles south, and from there it was 85 miles to Chancellor, our ultimate destination.
We did some quick calculations, assessed how easy the drive had been so far, and decided to to on to Montgomery and consider our options - but we knew what the decision would be, i mean, really, are you going to drive 3,000 miles and stop for the night when you’re less than 100 miles from your goal?
Yeah, we wouldn’t either.
After four states, Dash and Chonk were still battling over the Sonic mints.
We stopped at Olive Garden in Montgomery, had a nice dinner, and got back on the road just as it was getting dark. It was the first time we chose to drive in the dark, but it would only be a little over an hour (traffic on that section of highway was moving at 80+).
And then …
We were about 40 miles out of Montgomery when a low tire warning sounded. Initially we thought it was just low, but it started making a horrible noise. We knew we were in trouble, especially on a dark highway in the middle of nowhere.
But this is where our luck turned around again. Just as we had to pull off the road there was a Bar-b-q joint on the side of the road. Not much else around, and we were still about 10 miles from the next town, but this place with a big, well-lit parking lot was right there when we needed it.
We pulled, but they were already closed. I went to the door and there was a woman inside who yelled “We’re closed.” I told her I understood, but we were stranded and probably wouldn’t be able to get the car towed until morning.
She said, “Just pull it into one of those spaces over there,” pointing to the parking lot. “It’ll be fine.”
After a conversation with our Roadside Assistance people, we decided rather than a service call (and probable tow, since the car did not have a spare), we would have Steve’s brother come bring us some FlatFix and we would try to at least limp it into Troy, the next town, and leave it at a repair shop - which would be closed at that hour on a Sunday night, but at least it would be there in the morning.
We had to wait for Tim to drive up to get us, about 60 miles. Once he got there we tried the FlatFix, but the tire was still losing air as fast as we could pump it in with our portable inflator. We finally gave up, loaded our luggage in Tim’s truck, and drove back to Chancellor, leaving the car in the parking lot.
When I called the restaurant the next morning the woman I talked to was amazingly nice about our abandoned car. “It’s fine,” she said. “We’re keeping an eye on it for you.” I nearly burst into tears - we abandoned our vehicle in their parking lot and their response was to keep an eye on it for us? Wow!
We tried calling a couple places in Troy to see about getting the tire fixed, but we were having trouble getting an answer. So we piled into the truck and headed back north. We stopped at RoadMart in Troy, where they were beyond busy, the parking lot packed with vehicles, a waiting room full of people, and the phone going crazy.
Steve went in, expecting we would have to wait, but quickly returned to the car. The guy at the counter had listened to about half Steve’s explanation and instantly picked up a phone. He reached someone, and Steve heard him tell whoever was on the line to go out to Bar-b-q House as soon as he finished the call he was on.
We headed back, figuring we could at least get some food while we waited. Spending some money was the least we could do to repay the people at the restaurant.
This is Bar-B-Q House, about 10 miles north of Troy, Alabama. They were some of the nicest people you could hope to meet, and they helped us avoid a disaster. Very nice people, and great food!
We were greeted at the counter by a woman who asked, “Are you that sweet lady I talked to on the phone a little bit ago?” She said they have this happen “All the time,” probably because they’re the first safe place to pull off in 40 miles, and that they always try to look out for anyone who gets stranded there.
While we were talking to her the RoadMart truck rolled into the lot. We had literally beat him out there by only 5-10 minutes! He got the car up on a jack and pulled the tire off, started looking for the leak, which was quickly obvious from the FlatFix goop dripping out of a gash in the sidewall. It was on the inside wall where we couldn’t see it until the tire was off, but it was instantly apparent that the tire was beyond repair.
The kid told us to go ahead and have lunch, he’d take the wheel and tire back into town and get a new tire installed. By the time we’d eaten he was back and had the wheel back on the car; and told us he didn’t want to mess with a credit card on the road, just stop at the store on our way back to town and pay for it. Seriously, a road service call AND a new tire, and they just said to stop by on our way out to pay!
I am told that this is the sign of a really good BBQ joint - the rolls of paper towels on the table. Based on this stop, I would say that's true!
We got some bbq to take back to Steve’s mom, tipped lavishly, and dropped a contribution to their fundraiser in the jar on our way out. Tim took off to head home, and we stopped to pay for the tire. We needed the old tire to claim a refund from our road hazard guarantee, and the kid who’d done the service told us it was messy from the FlatFix, so he washed it out and carefully wrapped it in plastic, so it wouldn’t make a mess in the trunk. He got a decent tip, too.
A two-day adventure and the replacement of a nearly-new tire were not things I wanted on this trip, but the people we encountered as a result were some of the nicest people I have ever met. They were unfailingly compassionate and helpful,
And the BBQ was excellent!
The highway in front of Tim's house, which sits on land that was owned by Papa Jones, Tim and Steve's grandfather.
This little fella came to greet us when we finally unloaded things at Tim's place. He was clearly used to people, but a bit camera shy.