DONE WITH $ TO SPARE

The last thing Bob said the week before he was moved from the local Peace Health Hospital, to OHSU in Portland, OR; was, “Pay Visa off, pay the car off: and put $2,500 aside for tires.”

He wanted to make sure I would be taken care of if things went as expected.

I didn’t want to think about that, but I quickly called Sophia – our Financial Advisor – and shifted the monies around like Bob asked me to do: then I held his hand, and said, “It’s done Babe; with money to spare.”

2½ weeks later, Bob was walking the golden streets of our Celestial Home.

Aside from missing Bob ...

I don’t miss the Visa Card – I never wanted it anyway, and I don’t need the high interest monthly bill.

I’m glad the Highlander is sitting in the carport – free and clear.

For 32 months I have guarded “the tire money”; feeling guilty every time I had to dip into it when emergencies came up … and hastily building the balance back up again to keep that $2,500 balance in savings for when it came time to replace the tires.

The original tires have been on the Highlander since that September day in 2017 we drove it home, off the showroom floor at Dick Hanna’s in Kelso. That was 3 years ago (7 days away from 4 years, this year) – by my estimation, a pretty good run for tires on any vehicle.

The original tires have been in constant motion pretty much all of the time the vehicle has been in our/my hands. Since Bob went Home 32 months ago, I’ve rarely been home; and the rubber on the tires has literally been run off as I burned up the roadways from the time, I get up every morning – until the time I drop into bed every night.

One tire had a nail pulled out of it in 2018, and was patched: the patch held, and I had it checked every month before I went on 8- to 10-hour adventures. I remember driving that hell road in the Gifford Pinchot National Park, last August, and hoping and praying the tire would hold and get me back home safely: it did 😊

But I didn’t slow down.

I kept burning up the roads … and burning rubber: not in a drag race way, but the tires were well used every day, every week, every month between WA & OR – with very few stay-at-home-days in between.

The last loooong drive I took this year, was to Lincoln City in June; I had the tires checked at Dick Hanna’s local Maintenance Shop before and after the trip … and was assured “the tires were checked and rotated, Mrs. Hargand and everything looks fine; there’s nothing to be concerned about, but the tires will need to be replaced before Winter. Go, enjoy your drives without worry.”

I deviated, and took an alternate route home (a road I had never been on before – not even with Bob) … it was paved; but it was also in the middle of nowhere for miles, and miles, and miles. I shudder to think what might have happened if the tire had blown on that {safe} road.

Mind you … I TELL THE CREW EVERYTIME I HAVE THE CAR CHECKED that, “I drive a lot; I’m rarely home – I need to know the tires will hold up, and get me back safely. There’s just me now – and I don’t have the {ear} Bob had when it comes to car ‘isms.”

Maybe the crew doesn’t understand “mountain roads”: as in, rough and gravelly; pitted maintenance (if there even is any), and pot holes big enough to swallow the Highlander with very narrow to no shoulders at all to maneuver around those rugged-edged landmines.

Maybe the crew thinks paved roads are safer than dirt roads; maybe they aren’t aware that backcountry roads can be just as {ify} as dirt roads because though they aren’t rough … they are off the beaten track and the traffic is very light: if I broke down on one of those paved backcountry roads, I’d be in just as much of a pickle as I was last night.

Maybe they figure that because of my age, I consider a slight elevation in hillsides ‘mountain roads’. They don’t really know me, after all, beyond the friendly chit-chat between car maintenance appointments.

I don’t know what they actually thought … but I do know that I don’t think anyone took my statements that “I spend a lot of time in the mountains, and on light traveled roads” seriously.

And maybe, because I am not a sedate little old lady like most people my age tend to become; and maybe because I am ignorant in things Bob would have instinctively known and understood about vehicles … I should have pushed to have the tires replaced in June to avoid what happened last night.

At any rate – what’s done is done.

And honestly, I am surprised the tires held up as long as they did.

And I am thankful the tire shredded itself when I was moving in a slomo mode, instead of when I was passing someone on the highway!

I didn’t fall into bed until after 4 AM: I think I maybe had 4 hours sleep before I shook myself alert, called Les Schwab’s on Ocean Beach, and drove the car into town to have the tires replaced this afternoon.

3-hour wait at Les Schwab’s. No more popcorn available there - my stomach was making rude noises.

Cost & Labor; I'm not complaining - it GOT DONE.

All 4 tires replaced; now Baby needs a thorough washing.

The last thing on Bob’s mind when he was tying up loose ends for me as his life was fading, got done this afternoon; with money to spare.

But the washing of Baby will have to wait until tomorrow: I’m beat.

I can’t maintain strength anymore with only 4 hours sleep under my belt.

I hate to say this, but, I think I’m getting old 😉 

HISTORY

I had breakfast again with a friend – and I don’t say that lightly: David really is a friend.

While we ate, we talked about history. 

The history of 2 counties – the changes of Wahkiakum and Cowlitz over the last century and a half, previous generations, and past decades.

The history of our 55-year friendship; the history of our families … and how they overlap the counties’ history (I’m fairly new to the area, not rooted in Washington History like he and Bob are/were; so, I didn’t have much to add 😉). I listened – and commented occasionally, but generally I just listened and learned about the changes he and Bob saw happen; and I take for granted because they were in place when I moved to Skamokawa in the Summer of 1966.

I was intrigued by the history of Ocean Beach Highway, and the pictures he showed me.

I like learning about History – I like learning about the places that have touched my life – and that Bob and David saw change before I moved to Washington: this morning was an education. And I was an avid student 😊

After we finished breakfast, and went our sperate ways … I came home and watered my garden area, and the 2 front flowerbeds.

I was delighted to see a praying mantis in both areas: the last time I saw one was in Pennsylvania, when I was 6 years old.

Green Praying Mantis in the Cabbage Leaf Begonias.

Brown Praying Mantis in the veggie garden area.

It is said that seeing a praying mantis is considered good luck – and because of its “praying hands” aspect, the appearance of one signifies that Angels are watching over you.

Little did I realize, as I appreciated them … how true that concept would be in my life, today.

Then because the morning was still early, I decided to drive Ocean Beach Highway as far as Chinook to see if the pelicans were still hanging around: and view the river pilings in a whole new light – and a new eye’s view.

David said the tunnel that runs under Fort Columbia used to be a tunnel for train tracks; and he showed me a picture of a wooden roadway (Highway 101 – paved today and in the tunnel; but originally built over the river, on wooden trestles) that he said circled the rocky bluff the Fort is perched atop.

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ilwaco_Railway_and_Navigation_Company)

I see those pilings in the river when I drive that stretch of road!

I always assumed they were fish cannery and wharf supports.

The picture was exciting. 

Like I said: I love History 😊

There was extensive road work all along Ocean Beach Highway: there were three stops along the way (only 2-minute waits, except for the KM road work – that was a 4-minute wait). The first pilot car was between County Line, and Munson’s … the second was at Cathlamet; and the third was on the downside of the KM, a bit before Fossil Creek.

On my way to Chinook to see if the pelicans are still around.

Road work on the downside of the KM; near Fossil Creek.

A lot of noise. A lot of posturing ... not a lot of road work being done.

River pilings that used to lead a wooden roadway around the cliff that Ft. Columbia is perched atop;Chinook.

I got to Chinook about 3 PM; and all I saw were Seagulls, Cormorants, and a flock of Loons – no Pelicans. I must have missed their visitation window.

On my way back home from Chinook, I also stopped in Knappton, to talk to Bob’s cousin Lori to pick her brain about where Frankfort used to be located (access has been gated since the late 1970’s, and the forest has reclaimed the land): David said just out of Naselle … I said I thought Bob and I had ‘gone in from Eden Valley area somewhere’.

Bob’s great-grandparents lived in Frankfort: Grandpa Smalley lived there as a young boy before the family moved to Eden Valley: I knew Lori would know the family history … and know exactly where Frankfurt had thrived before the forest swallowed it up.

Researching the ‘Bean Creek’ at home, I noticed names on the Maps that are recorded in Bob’s Family History: Frank Born Creek, Crooked Creek.

MAPS for Print: https://www.topozone.com/washington/pacific-wa/stream/bean-creek/

 More excitement!

Bean Creek; the Smalley side of the family had Bean links - was this creek named after a family member?

Bean Creek, Knappton-WA

I was right – David was wrong about the establishment of the settlement town: David said a fishing community – I said a logging community. I believe both were correct; but logging was the primary purpose for the settlement.

Bob’s family was a logging family – and Bob’s family homesteaded at Frankfort and Rocky Point, before they homesteaded in Eden Valley.

The road to Frankfort started off Sisson Creek; then tied into a logging road, in Naselle. Rocky Point, where Bob’s relatives also lived, was a little further down that road. I never visited Rocky Point.

Neither Frankfort, nor Rocky Point are accessible – and because access was cut off … they faded into the murky depths of memory; alive only to those who remember them from long ago.

I was last standing in the ruins of Frankfort, with Bob, in 1974. I was imagining how it might have been when it was alive with people and purpose.

Frankfort; I always loved spending afternoons in Frankfort when Bob and I would picnic there in the summer of 1974.

Sisson Creek

Frankfort; from left to right - Sarah, Myrtle, Martha (mother) and HENRY (son of Frank) SMALLEY.

Eden Valley, WA

Smalley Homestead; Eden Valley. Lori and her husband live in the Smalley acreage, today.

Frankfort, WA: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frankfort,_Washington

I was wrong – David was right about the location. I don’t mind: History has to be right when a person thinks on it. I only remember the remnants of the place when I went there with Bob; I really didn’t pay that much attention to how we got there. And Bob always drove 150 different routes to get to 1 place, so I am justifiably confused when it comes to actual locations, unless I drive there myself 😉

I was glad for the History Lori shared with me 😊

I’ll have to let him know that next time we share breakfast.

The radio talking heads are doing their damndest to force everyone to get biden’s vaccine: ((((NO!)))) – what do those deadheads not understand about {no} and {it’s my body: my choice}.

Still refusing the vaccine; I don't believe anything coming out of the obamanite DC. I don't get the flu shot ... and I won't get the vaccine. MY LIFE - MY CHOICE.

Driving closer to home, I turned off at the Elochoman Road to take the Beaver Creek Road route, because I wanted to avoid road work pinging gravel damage to the Highlander.

It seemed so logical and simple.

I had no idea how long the drive would be dragged out when I started my adventure.

Nearing the top of Beaver Creek Road, I saw the ‘Bradley ORV Trailhead Sign, and thought “Why not? There’s still a lot of daylight, and I don’t think Bob and I were on the road that long last time we drove it.”

Bradley Trailhead.

So, I turned onto it, listening to the radio and taking in the sights.

This place is part of my history with Bob.

It had been a while since we’d been on that road – I was taking my time familiarizing myself with the area.

Adventure ...

Horses.

I stayed left; the main trail.

Here ... I stayed right. I was not lured by the sideroads.

An hour’s drive up the trailhead, I reached the summit, and wasn’t sure how long the drive would loop around; it had been a couple years since Bob and I had been there. So, I decided to turn back and come another day. It was 5:15 PM by then, and sunset was around 8:30 PM – I wanted to be home before dusk.

I got out of the car and scanned the horizon, enjoying the river view.

Cresting the summit of Bradley's Hill.

The Columbia River & the Pacific Ocean in the distance.

Litterbugs will have this trailhead, too, gated off soon ...

I had kicked up quite a dust storm driving that gravel road: the Highland would need a long wash tomorrow. 

AND THEN, 15 minutes on the downside of the summit …

I heard a thumping near the back end of the Highlander.

At first, I thought it was loose gravel hitting the underside of the car; so, I didn’t think too much of it – at first. As I continued forward, I just didn’t like the sound I was hearing.

I stayed in the worn tire marks on the road to stay off the gravel: I slowed down and rolled the window down to get a better listen.

The sound was the same no matter which side of the road I drove – the semi-smoothed ruts, or the gravel … the thunk-thunk-thunking continued, and it concerned me. I thought, “Okay, that’s not sounding a whole lot like gravel; I don’t remember gravel sounding like that when we were up here with Bob’s 4x.”

Granted the Highlander sits closer to the ground than a 4x pickup does. But something just sounded {off}, and I couldn’t figure it out.

I parked the car and got out to see what I could see.

I was still thinking spraying gravel may have been pelting the backend of the Highlander, pitting paint.

I didn’t see any pelting pits in the paint.

BUT I DID SEE SOMETHING THAT DEFLATED MY SPIRITS NEARLY AS LOW AS WHAT MY EYES WERE SEEING.

I was not thinking lady-like thoughts!

I stared at the seriously flat tire for several minutes.

No quick patch-job this time. A new tire is needed.

I looked at the waning sun – and mentally calculated how long I had until sunset.

I thought of all the times Yeshua has been prompting me to leave the past in the past; and start living in the now and making memories in the present … and I am doing that. But, I am also letting past memories lead me down the primrose path – and anyone going that route knows where it eventually leads: to dicey situations.

Logical and simple was suddenly a complicated mess. 

I don’t remember a single flat tire incident in the forest with Bob.

Ever. 

In 44 years … not a single flat tire, in the forest.

I know there were flat tires: just not in the fricking forest.

'This is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Val' ...

I looked in the hatchback end of the highlander and lifted the rubber cover mat: I did not see a spare tire … I didn’t even see a space for a spare tire: the tools needed to change a tire were in plain sight – but there was no spare tire.

I bent down as low as I could, and studied the underside of the car.

I did not see a spare tire. 

I called my guy friends and asked a huge favor. 

Leave the Past IN the past.

Of all the places to have a flat tire: in the middle of nowhere – a full hour’s drive into the middle of nowhere.

I have hiked for hours – I have hiked 5 miles.

But I know that an hour’s drive is quite a bit further than an hour’s walk: I knew I would not make it out of the forest before nightfall. I opted to stay with the Highlander.

I asked how much a tow truck would cost: a couple hundred dollars was quoted. I have the $$$ … but not at the ready; I could pay tomorrow – but not tonight.

I didn’t think the tow truck driver would be that gracious.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BfQuvrlnOdo)

David said he’d come; and see what he could do. 

Thank the Lord, my friends love me.

Thank God I didn’t take any side spurs.

I stuck to the main trail road.

Lesson learned.

I read my book until David arrived (I was an hour’s drive into the forest – and David was at least an hour’s drive away, at home) … and he brought the {calvary} with him: a friend named Ed, who was also helpful.

Bradley's ORV Area from Longview; 43 mins.

The Highlander was inspected.

The spare tire was found; Ed spotted it tucked under the car’s underside; it had to be lowered by a giant wingnut apparatus.

Both fellas got the car lifted and spare tire changed out.

I watched ... I would not have been able to do it, even if I knew how to do it. I know there are women who can ... and all I can say, is : "More power to 'em."

But, for me: I know my limitations.

This is one of them.

Spare tire in place.

And we were all amazed at how torn up the original tire was.

That tire was heavy!

Thank God for the strength of men.

I was glad this happened fairly close to home!

I am glad Angels were watching over me.

I was glad the calvary was available, and had arrived 😊

The original tire had been thoroughly shredded; it had caught on an inside piece of the axle, after the blowout. You'd think I would have heard this blow out! I didn't hear a thing, except the clunking that sounded like gravel being sprayed on the undercarriage.

I learned a lesson today: I’m too darned old at 64½, and too petite (a chunky petite, but petite just the same) to be dealing with stuff like a flat tire on a logging road, miles from civilization.

My friends; and family who care to be concerned, will be happy to hear that there will be no more excursions like the one I had tonight.

I can’t afford to have this happen again. My guy friends are happy to help me, this time: but, I don’t think it will go over so well if there were a next time.

So, from now on I’ll just stay on the paved roads … in civilized areas … for all my next adventures.

Yeshua has been patiently guiding me away from the past memories, and gently leading me into new life adventures that will make new memories.

And I have been walking the center line, trying to find balance in both.

I believe I have mentioned in previous posts that Elohim has a way of getting my attention, and nudging me back on track ... when I am dawdling instead of obeying.

Tonight, my attention was snagged with a flat tire spanking.

I am never going to hear the end of this little snafu from my friends who are praying I get married again - now they will pray for a mechanic.

Cautiously driving the trailhead road with the skinny spare tire, back to the main Beaver Creek Road tonight, while the fading sunlight bathed the darkening forest in a pretty shadowy crimson light filtered through the tree trunks as the sun slipped over the horizon; I could almost hear Yeshua and Bob – at the same time – asking, “Have you learned anything, Val?”

Yes; yes, I have. 

Solo Lobo ventures on dirt roads are now history.

I hate being spanked 😉

David and Ed followed me in David’s truck; out of the forest and to Heron Pointe, to make sure I arrived home with no more snafu’s – I am thankful and deeply grateful.

And because there was a spare tire … I did not have to leave my car in Les Schwab’s parking lot until tomorrow morning: Frank does not have to drive me there tomorrow – I can drive myself 😊

God is faithful.

We have history.

This whole thing could have turned out very differently; my eternal ticket did not get punched today.

Job 1