It was just a little miracle… just a little one. But it sure made my day.
This morning, with the temperature hovering around zero in Laramie, I left room 103 at the Travelodge to start the bus. And it wouldn’t. I called Rob, the guy I’m driving for, and asked him if he had any hints for starting a school bus when it’s this cold. He told me that if I could find a long extension cord, I could plug in the block heater, wait an hour, and then take off. But there were no outlets close enough to the bus. He also told me about some special Diesel engine starter stuff that’s used to, as the name implies, start Diesel engines when it’s cold.
But he also said that even if I had some of that stuff, I’d have to know exactly what I was doing or it could cause some damage. And it’s probably pretty clear that when it comes to Diesel engines I know nothing. That applies to any engines, actually.
I shared my woes with the Travelodge night auditor, who was just about to end her shift. Her husband was coming to pick her up any moment. And, she mentioned, he was a Certified Diesel Mechanic, and might be able to help.
He arrived five minutes later. I explained the problem, and he just happened to have the Diesel engine cold weather starter stuff with him. He popped the hood, sprayed or squirted or poured the stuff where it was supposed to go. He climbed into the driver’s seat, and he started it right up. I handed him ten bucks, and headed for Idaho, where I am now. I’m not at all sure what I would have done if the stars hadn’t aligned in just that way.
I’m exhausted. It’s been another 600-mile day. And tomorrow, I have to take an unexpected side trip to Bend, Oregon, to show the bus to a school district guy who may want to buy some buses just like it. Then, I’ll have to get up somewhere near Portland to spend the night, and deliver the bus in Seattle on Friday. So it’s going to be another long day…
Tonight I’m at the place I always stay: The Amber Inn Motel in Bliss, Idaho. Ed, the resident manager has become a friend; we always have a nice chat, and his daughter Jasmine enjoys climbing aboard the bus. The Amber Inn is a family-owned, old-fashioned motel. They have actual keys for the doors — not key cards. And with that, I’m going to bed. As I mentioned, I’m beat, and tomorrow’s going to be a very long day.
…So I apologize for the artlessness with which today’s post was written, but that’s all I have in me right now.. G’nite!