It is always a pleasant surprise when an experience that is first seen as a disaster turns into one that becomes a cherished memory. Such is the case when our car broke down in Miami, OK just two days into our cross country adventure. Low on gas in the mid-afternoon, we coasted into one of those off the Interstate gas stations that sport a convenience store where the inevitable bathroom and junk food pit stop occur. It was my turn to drive, and as I backed the car out of the parking spot, it stalled and would not start again. At first I thought it was because I was a little rusty driving a clutch car... and so Gerry and Colin both took over to confirm that it wasn't my driving, it was something way more serious. Within minutes, a kind stranger asked if we needed any help and gave us the name of the local mechanics who might be of help the next day. They were currently out racing cars, as it was a Sunday, but he said they were nice fellows who would help us out. His wife even offered the use of her daughter's name (who was good friends with the young racing crew), just so she was sure we would be taken care of properly. Other local residents stopped to ask if we needed help with the use of their cell phone or information about the town in which we were stranded. Luckily, there was a Great Western motel adjacent to the gas station which had a little bar called Boomers and a restaurant attached to it. The three of us pushed the car from the convenience store into the motel parking lot and while Gerry read the manual and Colin tried to start the engine, a thin man in a straw hat and carrying a banana bread strolled over and asked if we needed help. Being from NJ and a bit suspicious of strangers, I nervously offered that our car broke down. He looked under the hood and strolled back to his car to get a wrench so we could disconnect the battery for a few minutes and reconnect it to see if that would do the trick. When it didn't and the tow truck from AAA showed up to tell us that it would be better for us to wait until the next day to tow our car to the dealership in Joplin MO (26 miles away), Justin, the hatted stranger invited us to come have drinks at the bar. He let us know that he was trading a fresh baked banana bread for a gin and tonic. We got us a couple of rooms in the motel and then entered the small local bar which featured guitars and memorabilia from famous celebrities. The few patrons that were there listened to our story and assured us that we would be taken care of properly. Then as if we were old friends, they shared stories, jokes, and laughter with us for the next several hours. Before long the little bar was alive with a boisterous and friendly atmosphere that took us away from the sting of the breakdown... and a heck of a good time! We met Dee who was an 82 year old WWII vet who traded facetious banter with Justin (the straw hatted cowboy) who drove cattle along the entire American continent for a living. At one point Justin took the copper bracelet that he claimed was too small for him and gave it to me for my own complaint of arthritis. I assured him I would find him one that fit him on our travels and present it to him on our return trip (which I did). You could tell that even as the locals exchanged verbal barbs, they had a deep respect for one another and the town in which they lived. The bartender Karen who was originally from California, told us jokingly we'd better run for our lives, as this was a place that once you come to... you never leave. She then presented us with Boomers tee shirts and introduced us to her daughter Christa, who took over as the night bartender. After many hours of laughing and drinking with our new found friends we headed home to our rooms, sorry that we broke down and lost a day, but somehow thankful that it couldn't have happened in a better place surrounded by such a warm group of people.
