4,957 miles
Once upon a time, the Second Wave was chugging down Highway 29, somewhere in the heart of Missouri. Earlier in the drive, its occupants spent a surprising amount of time in an Iowan Western store purchasing boots, hats and other sundry sparkly and tasseled things, uncharacteristic of *most* of the family. Garbed in 4 pairs of new cowboy boots and cruising
down the highway, an unwelcome putter-putter came from the back left of the rig. Uh oh. Over the family pulled and confirmed what they already suspected - a shredded back tire. It was bad situation, made worse by the fact that the Mom and Dad had FINALLY (after 60 minutes of hardcore research) decided on the exact BBQ joint they were going to hit up in Kansas City before they parked for the night. Visions of brisket and pulled pork dissolved as the family pulled off at the next exit in the middle of Amazonia, MO.
It was Saturday evening. The day before God's day, and quickly approaching 5pm. The family's time was limited and expertise nonexistent. AAA proved unhelpful as Mom was informed that she didn't have RV coverage (*almost* thanks, Mom's Dad). The Dad started calling tire places, auto body shops, truck stops and uhauls. The wife called RV Parks and Walmarts. No one could help. And then ... silence. Everyone was closed for the night, and most of them were going to stay that way until Monday morning. It was confirmed that the family's best prospect was Todd's Tires, and Todd was most certainly already up at the lake until Monday.
The next task was finding a spot that was safe for the night. Up the road, the family found an event space that looked like a barn (exactly the place they would have held their wedding, some 14 years back). As they approached the space in their hobbling home on wheels, it became apparent that a wedding was, in fact, being held there at that very moment. Mom immediately said they couldn't possibly interrupt the joyous occasion, but Dad persisted. In they pulled and out he went to strike up a conversation with two ladies having a smoke outside.
He shared his family's plight, and in ran one of the women to bring out her husband, a well known hydraulics man in the area. His name was Chip, and he had a truck and a shiny smile. He couldn't have been happier to avoid the wedding and help these city folk come up with a solution. He called everyone in town he knew that was "tire related," and when he came up empty, his disappointment was palpable. He truly thought a miracle was about to unfold. He told the family to pull the RV across the way to an abandoned farming yard ("I know those guys, they're good people") for the night. They'd be safe there, and so they did. Two
hours later, on their way out of the wedding, Chip and his wife came over to the RV to check in. "You guys okay? You cold? You're welcome to come on over to our house and park in our driveway for the night if you want to warm up." The family told them that they'd be fine, and that it's always good to be stranded with a mobile kitchen. They made pasta and watched Dumb and Dumber as the kids drifted off to dreamland with visions of "Pretty bird" in their heads.
The next morning, Dad got on the horn again and finally found tires 20 minutes away, on God's day no less. A nearby Walmart would install them. The final peg was to find a truck to tow them there. Through a southern drawl, one man's "I'm sure I can't ma'am" softened his rejection, and a followup text from him with a suggestion and a "God Bless and Good
Luck" gave them hope. But no. No one would do it since they were so big with a busted tire. The family was so close yet so far. Second Wave can't move on her own and no one can move her. The fix would somehow have to come to them.
Enter again: Chip. Now avoiding church, the knight in a shining pickup truck answered the first ring on his land line. "Well, finding tires was the hard part. Jacking the RV is nothing. Give me an hour to run over to the shop and get some tools and a few jacks and I'll see you there." Chip was on his way with his truck and tools. He was going to jack the RV up, then head into town to get the new tires put on the rims. Then he would bring them back and reinstall them. Chip and Dad got to work, and in no time the RV was up, the tires were fixed, and the job was done.
And so is the story of Chip, Second Wave, and the kindness of strangers. To break down where they were. To happen upon a place filled with locals. To find a couple gals smoking outside, one of which was married to a hydraulics guy. A hydraulics guy who's just about the nicest guy west of the Mississippi (possibly east, too). It's the sort of thing that'll almost, just maybe, make you believe in something bigger than all of us.
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