My New Mexico Adventure. Aka, I'm a Gawddamn Roadside Warrior. #wrench

I left Lone Grove at 8pm, and drove all night towards Carlsbad, NM.  I got in at about 3am.  I ducked into the shadows of a Chevron gas station, and I rolled into the bed of the truck.  I made use of an empty water jug and dumped the contents out the back window, before crawling into my sleeping bag with my boots on.  Now, I knew my feet would be swampy, but I wanted to be ready to jump at a moments notice.  Small town politics kept me more at a state of unrest, on the edge of ready all night, with the sound of cars driving by just feet to my left, up and down the main drag, and an occasional customer filling their tank.  I set my alarm for 6am. 

When my alarm went off, I sprung into action.  The sky was just getting some slim hints of light to it, and the roadways were packed with work trucks, country trucks, and I knew there was some industrial work drawing the town to life.  Disheveled as usual, and under slept, I just stood in the middle of that convenient store trying to figure out my next move.  Diner, I wanted a diner.  Turns out the diner I wanted, wasn’t open until 11am, and I couldn’t complain about it, cause it was called the “No Winer Diner.”  How suitable.  I drove toward the edge of town closer toward the caverns, and a taco truck caught my attention.  “A burrito will be nice and fast” I said aloud to nobody.  I waited for oncoming traffic to pass, and I pulled left into its makeshift parking area.  The morning was cooler than Oklahoma had been, because I was up in that middle to high New Mexico desert.  

So there I was…getting back into my truck, when I smelled something funny.  I swung the door back open, popped the hood, and looked for any funny stuff.  My radiator bottle was full up.  And I could see some spillage.  “Oh man.”  I immediately looked up the nearest auto parts store, 1.9 miles back in the direction I’d just come.  When I pulled up they were closed, so I inspected the engine a bit closer, and you know what I saw?  I saw a split alternator belt.  yep, the whole thing had just gone up and split in two. That would explain why my things just weren’t working all that well.  Right then and there I set my sights on changing my belts, and before you'd know it, I was well into misadjusting my pulleys and getting those belts off.  Grease and dirt and wrenching are my friends, so I was in my natural habitat.  Soon after they’d opened, I was in there, a handsome ball of grease and parking lot gravel, with my old belts in hand, and walking out with my new ones.  Within minutes I'd gotten them all on and adjusted to Toyota specs, a highly scrutinous process.  I poured what had over flowed into the bottle, back into the radiator.  And I was back on the road by 9:30 am.  Everything seemed fine.  

Carlsbad Caverns was a couple miles off the main road, so I took that short stroll up to the mountain top, and walked around inside their museum and displays.  Their elevator into the cave was broken, so I had to vow to come back on another trip and do the 3+ hour hike.  Once again I was off on the road, heading towards Phoenix, my destination for the day, and where I’d spend the next few days having a good time.  I was motoring along for a couple hours in the dead zone in and out of New Mexico and Texas territory, where there’s no cell service, and I was relinquished to the limited iTunes selection on my phone, plus there were no Truckers on any of the CB channels to listen to.  Up ahead I could see this huge steep mountain hill that seemed to come out of nowhere, but I had to climb it to get out of that flat zone.  And wouldn't ya know, that as soon as I started to climb that steep mountain hill, the truck started overheating.  Now, this was the first time in it’s entire life that it had ever overheated, and I was super bummed.  I knew I had to get that needle down below the red F, so I slowed the rpms, and climbed as slowly as I could, not putting any stress on that engine.  As soon as I got to the crest, I pulled into a lookout parking lot.  Figuring there was something that needed adjusting, I popped the hood, checked the belts and because they were new, I gave them a tiny little tighten.  Now, I figured they didn’t cost much, so if one of them blew I could just put some new ones on again.  

        The truck had cooled down by this point, and the rest of the way to the next town was downhill, so I’d just ease the truck to the nearest gas station.  I picked up a bottle of coolant, thinking that the truck fluid was actually low, and as soon as I made an old coffee cup into my new funnel, boy did my radiator guzzle that fluorescent green liquid. So I started getting curious about the radiator.  I got back on the highway, and before I knew it the needle was heating again.  This time I pulled over at the New Mexico welcome center, and I called my dad.  Cause he’s always my favorite car person, and makes everything better.  I decided in that parking lot, of adobe shelters over concrete picnic tables that I had to change my coolant completely.  I dumped out the contents of straps and bungee cords from a bucket I kept in the truck.  I found the radiator drain, used the coolant overflow tube as an attachment to the petcock, and let all that old rusty brown coolant flow into that bucket.  I then poured the rest of that new coolant gallon into the radiator and then ran the truck (with the cap off) to let it normalize and flow easier into the compartments of the radiator.  That’s the trick. 
       I never waste an opportunity to be a good tourist, so being as I graciously took liberties in their parking lot,  I decided a little spin inside the visitor center would be mighty right.  I went ahead and signed the visitor center book (always).  I also grabbed some free literature on "New Mexico Tourism", mainly cause there was a picture of some snow skiers on the front, and part of this trip I was on was all about the skiing.  I gave the woman attending the visitor center a synopsis of my trip and the way my morning had gone, and she obligingly told me there was a gas station 10 miles in the direction I was headed, so down the road I slowly went.  The needle kept teasing the heat line.  I kept the engine low and slow all the way to the gas station.  I parked right in front, went inside and bought a nice looking bottle of coolant, the 11 dollar kind. I topped the truck up, and ran the motor, same thing (cap off).  Then I let it cool down, and I added some more.  The truck was having some trouble starting each time, because basically, slowly over the course of the last couple days, since the belts were so busted, the alternator wasn’t doing its job of recharging the battery.  And well, I had to get some good driving on her to really get her back up to operating efficiency, so the truck was just slowly cranking, and I had to give her gas every time.  
        After I topped the truck up for the last time, the dude who was leaning against the wall, looking like he either wanted to help, or throw me into his van, walked defeatedly off toward a far part of the parking lot, as soon as I closed the hood, and locked the truck to head into the store for one last round of resources before I braved the road again.  (I feel like I really dodged a bullet with that one).  

I pulled onto the road way, and gradually gained speed down the onramp, onto the highway, watching that thermostat needle ever so carefully for the slightest move past middle.  Nothing.  Not a budge.  In fact it stayed middle for a whole 3-4 hours of normal driving speeds.  I was home free.  Problems solved.  But then....I had just reached Picacho Peak in AZ, when my dad called me back, and I couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.  “Dad guess what? …..Oh, no!  wait!  Never mind.  Dang!”  The needle had started climbing toward the H line.  Most of my disbelief came from the fact that the needle had stayed middle until both Picachu Peak and My dad had called.  I couldn’t believe the coincidence.  I didn’t know if I should blame the spirits of Picacho, or the fact that my truck didn’t want me to give my dad any good news.  I pulled over at the nearest station.  The whole station was empty, except some accommodating overhead lights.  Though I still had to put my head lamp on to inspected the engine.  Dry.  Not a lick of coolant could be seen, so no over-flow problems, but the radiator top felt unnaturally cool.  Turns out the thing was really low, and thus the coolant wasn’t flowing in the upper compartment of the radiator as a result.  I looked around the bottom of the truck for any signs of leak.  Nothing but a puddle of my pee.  No immediate radiator drips to be seen.  But then I did noticed that my drive line was showing signs of immense wetness.  So I deduced that to radiator fluid leaking slowly as I drive. I spent the rest of my coolant on filling the radiator, and I headed to the next nearest "open" station for another bottle to top it off.  The bottles kept getting more expensive the closer I got to Phoenix.  Something to do with supply and demand I guess. Visuals of those pesky graphs from business school flowing through my mind. 

As I drove the slow 60mph just 50 miles outside of Phoenix, I got pulled over by a cop, who was nice enough to tell me that both my license plate lights were out, and that the ball hitch I had mounted was an obstruction, and he couldn’t really read my plate.  We had a friendly banter.  And then he ran my license, just you know, because, and I wasn’t much worried about anything, being a good citizen and all.  Then I answered “No” to all questions about drug transportation, and before you could say the alphabet backwards I was back on the road.   

I arrived at about 1am, backed into the driveway, grabbed my giant green sleeping bag, and found the couch.  It was a glorious arrival, and much awaited slumber.