Anyhow, we weren't singing whoo for too long -- the incline started getting steep before we had enough speed. Jim shifted into second gear to make it up the to the top of the mountain road, but when he eventually tried shifting back into first, our speed just dropped suddenly to 30 and then 20 KM/hr.
Shit.
Fortunately, we were at a good spot where we were able to pull over without any trouble. We were so lucky. There are long, long, loooong stretches of nothingness along the Coq. And here we manage to break down just where there is a decent shoulder and a new hot dog stand right across the highway! All things considered, we certainly recognized our luck.
We headed across the road where Jim approached some middle-aged Washingtoner's. He offered $20 for a jump, but they "didn't think so".
Alright... strike one.
Next, he walked up to this gentleman headed to Vancouver. He pulled out this little jumper cable box from beneath one of the seats of his van, and was kind enough to walk all the way across the highway with us. He even refused our $20 even though we offered it to him several times.
Unfortunately, his jumper cable box couldn't muster the juice we needed.
Strike two.
Jim suggested we try to flag someone down to get a boost from an actual car. I doubted that this strategy would work. I figured that most people are too busy to get where they're going, no one was going to pull over. I know someone like Jim totally would help if he saw a person stranded - but I don't have a lot of faith that too many other drivers out there. (No offense.)
Fortunately, I was wrong.
We only stood out there for maybe 5 minutes when a black car pulled over. A woman in her late 50's was hosting her two friends who had just arrived from Ireland - a gentleman in his 50's and a girl in her 20's. They were on their way from Vancouver to Vernon, and would then be heading through the rockies to Lake Louise and Banff. How nice!
As the older lady and I chatted, the Jims worked on giving the car a boost.
Yes, I said the Jims.
I thought the ladies looked at me funny when I referred to Jim. Turns out that was the older fellow's name too. Anyhoo, the Jims got the car going, but it was making this serious knocking, rattly sound any time it was revved.
Not good.
They offered to give us a drive to Merrit, but we decided to just drive the car beneath the underpass and across the highway. There was always a small crowd of people stopping by that new hotdog stand, which is positioned right at the base of that nice smooth pointy mountain... you know the one. It's my favourite mountain on that route. I'm sure it's probably everyone's favourite. I think it's so pretty.
So we took the car over to the hotdog stand, and tried to figure things out from there. I killed time trying to keep my sunburned arms and face in the shade. I either took refuge in our car or I curled up on shady blocks of concrete and stared at the mountain. I also wasted a little time reading an information plaque on the pine beetle, as well as reviewed a map of dangerous avalanche areas... which we were apparently in. Maybe that's why that map was there - a sign to eat and run? At least that hot dog stand served veggie rolls. Yum!
While I preoccupied myself with the above new interests and hobbies, Jim solicited a boost from an older couple in their 60's. The gentleman was very helpful. He had a shirt that said something about loving Canada. Or maybe it just said Canada? Either way, it was red and white, and he had white hair to match. He seemed like someone's sweet grandfather... or maybe Santa's apprentice - minus the beard.
When Grandpa Claus' car couldn't get it boosted, a friendly country-lookin' mustached gentleman in his 40's approached and offered his assistance. Jim got the impression that he was a mechanic. He pulled over in this huge white truck with blue flames that curled around the front. He suggested to let the batteries charge together for a while. I swear his truck must've required two batteries to run itself. It was so huge! I was in the car so I didn't get to check for Alberta plates, but I'm willing to wager.
It was kinda funny because Billy Bluejean's truck was roarin' so loud, we couldn't hear if ours had started. I stepped out and listened carefully beneath our hood, "Yup. It's going now!" Ha ha.
Mrs. Bluejean's, who mingled around in the background, was very happy to see that they could get us going. We thanked Santa and Bluejeans as they all went along their way.
Jim revved the engine to see if our car was still making that rattly sound or if it just needed to cool down, as the manual suggested.
Yup. It was still making that racket. Seconds later our car seized and stopped running. Again.
Strike three. (Actually, it's probably more like strike four or five by now...)
We stepped out into the sun and tried to assess what to do. We knew we definitely needed to call a tow truck.
Just then, one pulled in.
Yes, I believe in magic.
Okay... so because I'm hungry and want to have dinner, I'm going to end this now. I'll get back to part trois ~ the long ride home ~ a little later.
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