Cameron Dawson

That night, in the hotel in Vegas, Googling with my iPhone, I made a list of 5 places to call the next morning.  Then at 8am I started calling.

I started with 4Wheel Parts, then the other 4, and hit a dead-end with all of them.  Almost.  I got one lead.  The guy at Driveline Automotive said they were in the middle of moving and couldn’t help me.  But he said I should call Adams.  “They’re great folks over there and are happy to help in emergencies.”  I told him I’d already talked to them but they couldn’t fit me in.  He said, “did you call?  or did you go down there?”  I admitted I’d just phoned them.  So he said, “OK, here’s what you do:  Drive down there with your part and ask for John.  That’s my nephew.  He’ll help you out if you’re standing in front of him.”

“I asked them to fix my Jeep…  But there was all this work…  and he said there was’nooooo waaay….” 

Now, this isn’t my style.  They’d already said no.  I kind of have this strong aversion to being pushy.  I take no for an answer really easily.  It felt… kind of obnoxious to me.  Sneaky, even.  Yet, I was truly desperate.  So that’s EXACTLY what I did. 

I got to Adams and parked.  It was filled with all kinds of Jeeps.  Several YJs, even.  Most of them looked awesomely tricked out.  I was instantly infected with a sense of, “Yeah!  That’s what I want to do to MY rig when I grow up!”  But I had business. 

So I went into the office and just asked for John.  The guy looked at me and said, “He’s out on a test-drive, but should be back soon.”  I just said, “OK, thanks.  I’ll wait then.”  I sat down with the two parts of my broken drive shaft and waited.  I was sitting there getting anxious.  This was literally my last hope.  I kept fearing one of them would say, “Hey, didn’t we already tell you we were busy and couldn’t help you?  You’re trying to sneak your way in, eh?  Get out of here, pencil-neck!  Shame on you!!”

But John shows up and he was super cool and friendly.  Trying to sound like a hard-core off-roader, with tons of trail cred, in the midst of a major off-road shop, I showed him the broken pieces and said it happened on a trail in Death Valley.  He looks up at me and says in this monotone voice, “perhaps it was the result of an anxiety…“

Ok, he didn’t actually say that.  But that would have been awesome.  However, what he DID say was this:

“Yeah, I’ve got these parts.  I can totally get you fixed up.  We ARE super busy, though, so we can’t start till 2.” 

I bet the relief in my face and the sound of the tension in my shoulders releasing sounded like a boulder breaking.  “No problem at all.  That would be great”, I said.  He wrote up a work order and showed it to me with the estimate.  Somewhere around $350. 

“By Grabthar’s Hammer, what a savings…“

Honestly, I was so relieved to have FINALLY found someone who’d fix me up fast that I probably would have paid double that.  Remembering the leaf-spring pins, I asked if he’d have time to look at them, but he said in a kind of exhausted tone, “I’m sorry man.  I hate to say no, but we just don’t have the time.”  I quickly said, “No problem, no problem.  That’s cool.”  I’d driven here on that, I could make it home OK that way, too.  Axle was in the right position now anyway…

It was 10:30, so I figured I’d go out and get Jiffy Lube to refresh my fluids.  I had a lot of miles to drive, so I might as well give myself the best odds.  Got some food and bade my time.

2 pm came and they started work. After inspection it ends up that, while the CV-joint looked and felt fine, it was a little tweaked.  The slip yoke was obviously broken at the u-joint sockets.  But also my end-yoke at the differential had lost a tooth that stabilizes the u-joint.  If the guys back at Pahrump had actually gotten the replacement slip-yoke and re-installed it, I would have quickly had another RUD.  The concept of a “blessing in disguise” wasn’t lost on me here.

While they were working, I chatted with the guys.  All super cool people.  This place seemed like somewhere I’d love to come and hang out.  They clearly love off-roading and really, really know their stuff.  One of the guys, James, loved YJs and owned several.  He took me into the shop to show me the one he was currently tricking out.  It looked awesome.  I got very jealous.  

While talking to Rob doing the actual install, he showed me the upgraded bolts they’d use to mount the u-joints.  I guess they’re tons stronger than the older “strap” style mounts.  When John came out with the new drive-shaft, it was a thing of beauty.  Gleaming black with fresh paint.  Clearly these guys took a lot of pride in their work.  I felt like I was looking at gold.  An entire fixed drive-shaft.  “My precious!”

Looking at the beauty of the new drive-shaft and the horrendous rust on my undercarriage, I vowed to do some painting this summer.

Watching them work, I was already planning to get some quick food and start heading home that night.

Rob got it installed and did an inspection.  They suspended it by the axles and “drove” it in mid-air to see if the angles looked right.  They were great.  However, that’s when they noticed the spring pins were sheared.  As I said, I’d started to mention it before to John, but I hadn’t wanted to push my luck because I didn’t think it was that serious.  I was wrong.

I kicked myself because I totally could have had the guys in Pahrump replace those while we waited for the drive-shaft attempt.  Crap.  I just didn’t think of it.

They all got gray looks on their faces and then leveled with me.  “You can’t drive it home like this.  You hit one pothole and your axle will fly out.  It’ll not just destroy the drive-shaft again, you could get killed.  Seriously, this is not at all safe to take any distance.”

“ffff……”

“Can you fix it?”  “Sorry man, we just don’t have time now.”  It was well past 5.  Then James says, “hang on a minute…”  He goes inside and I wait.  He comes back out with a post-it.  “Mario over at Performance Plus Automotive can take you at 8 am tomorrow and get you fixed up.  He’s got the parts and he’s expecting you.

Another night in Vegas…  

But, you know what?  I’m very glad they stopped me.  I was pretty bummed at that moment.  I wanted to get out of town more than almost anything.  I missed Dakota and the girls so bad.  But I didn’t want to leave my wife a widow and my children fatherless due to some “carnivorous lunar activities.”  er.. I mean, a broken leaf-spring pin.  So I asked for advice on a hotel.

More adventure…

He recommended Sundown Station.  Ends up that was yet another Casino/Hotel.  HUGE, as a matter of fact.  But right down the street.  So, OK.  Another night in Vegas…  Seriously, though, I have nothing against Vegas.  I can totally understand how people love it.  Casinos and strippers just are not MY idea of fun.  But, hey, that’s just me.  And I was wiped out and really just wanted to get home.

I drive over there and the Jeep is doing great.  Feels much better to be driving rear-wheel drive again.  I’m so glad to be so close to going home.  Past the hard part.  And I pull into the humongous parking lot.  I go over a couple speed-bumps as I look for a spot and I start to hear it: A rhythmic squeak that stops when I stop.  

F’ing axle slid again.  I slowly creeped another 20 feet to the closest parking spot and stopped.  Took a deep breath and let it out.  I took a look and everything was visually intact.  Axle slid back a little, but not much.  However, much more and I was sure my drive-shaft would break again…  OK, no problem.  I’m at the hotel anyway.  I’ll get a room and have AAA tow me to the mechanic in the morning.  Not ideal, but that’ll work.  At least I didn’t break my shaft again.  (Coincidentally: that’s also the name of Edric’s second sex tape.  The long-awaited sequel to “Honey, we broke the shaft”) 

I go into Sundown Station and, I gotta admit, it’s really cool in there.  The roof is semi-domed with indirect lighting coming from the sides.  And it’s painted to look like clouds in the evening sun.  It honestly “felt” like being at an outdoor cafe at, yes, sunset.  It felt really comfortable.  Most casinos have a very saccharin feel that give me the creeps.  But this was, yeah, kinda nice.  So I head to the concierge and wait my turn.  The line was a bit long.  Maybe 6 people in front of me.  When I get to the front of the line they tell me they’re booked.  Solid.  Another deep breath…  “But you can try the Comfort Inn one street over.”  I go back out to the Jeep and call them.  Booked.  Look up nearby hotels on my iPhone.  Booked and booked…  The last one I ask, “what’s going on that everyone is full?”  “Must be March Madness, I guess,” comes the answer.  Another breath…

So, my Jeep is not drive-able and there is no hotel nearby I can stay in.  Also, this HUGE parking lot of a HUGE casino has a bicycle security guard making the rounds.  No chance of just crashing in the Jeep.

I needed a friendly face.  So I FaceTime call Dakota and the girls from the Jeep.  Soooo good to see their faces!  Scarlett (at 1 1/2) doesn’t quite understand the concept and keeps trying to kiss and hug the phone.  I can see it’s hard on her… on all of them, me being away.  God, I want to get home.  I felt much better after talking with Dakota.

I end up having to book a room in a Motel 6, 30 minutes away.  I book the room by phone to secure it.  This will be fine.  I just want a shower and a night’s sleep.  I call a taxi and wait.  As the sun slowly set at Sunset Station, I’m starting to feel a bit like Griffin Dunne in “After Hours.”  Loved the movie, but I didn’t want to live it.  “I really just want to get home…”  I briefly picture myself getting made into a plaster-of-paris statue and dumped out of a van by Cheech and Chong.  Great movie, seriously…

One taxi ride later and I’m at Motel 6.  A Vegas Motel 6.  By far the seediest motel I’ve ever stayed in.  And, oddly… it’s right next to Boulder Station (I guess there’s a bunch of “stations”).  The smell of stale… something… I hope it’s cigarettes… (I don’t know.  What does meth smell like?) hangs in the air surrounding the place.  Random, sketchy looking people yelling out their doors.  I wish I could go stay at Boulder Station, but I already booked it.  Probably full, anyway.  I briefly think, “well, I haven’t been mugged yet.  That would add to the story.”  Surprisingly, I make it to my room without getting jumped.  So the story has a lull in the excitement here.  Instead of carpet on the floor, it’s some kind of laminate.  Really, that’s for the best.  Easier to clean.  But it makes it feel even cheaper somehow.  Ahh well.  The towels “look” clean.  

I turn on the shower (I hadn’t showered that day due to the attempt to get to Adams’ as early as possible).  Waiting for the water to get hot I day-dream about the adventure I’m having.  I day dream for what feels like quite a while.  I finally realize that the shower isn’t going to get hot…  So I wrap a tissue around the remote (I’m not touching that thing with my SKIN) and head to bed to veg out and fall asleep.

No sketchy people awake at 6 in the morning.  So I make it back to the lobby with all my body parts and get a cab back to the Jeep.  Call AAA and the very stoic tow-truck driver takes me to Mario’s shop without event.  I meet the very stoic Mario (perhaps early-morning is just a stoic time in Vegas) and, true to his word, he starts to work on the Jeep right away.  I have to kick it for a couple hours and Mario points me to a nearby casino where I can get breakfast.  I’m met by the rich aroma of (what I hope is) stale cigarettes before I reach the door.  But the breakfast was good enough.

I stop by to take pictures once or twice, killing time.  I ask how it’s going and he says, “this is a pain in the ass…” and walks off.  Did I mention stoic?  Getting the distinct impression that he doesn’t want my company and knowing that him completing the job is the only thing between Vegas and me leaving it, I take the hint and head back over to the casino to listen to my audio book.

Next time I stop by I don’t actually see him working on the Jeep.  I get a little concerned, though I’m sure he’s doing something.  They actually fabricate the leaf-spring pins by grinding down the heads of grade-8 bolts.  He’s probably in the shop doing that.  So I take off for a hike on a sidewalk next to a 10-lane expressway.  Very scenic.  

I get back around noon and the Jeep is done.  He presents me the bill and it’s around $280.  Wow.  Almost the entire rebuild and install of my drive-shaft.  But I was bent over a barrel and he knew it.  Oh well…  I just wanted to get home!  And the Jeep was fixed now!  So I pay and call Dakota to tell her I’m on my way.  I’m so excited to go that I forgot to go back to Adams to pick up the broken slip yoke for a souvenir.  Crap.  Oh well…

There’s a lot of slab between Vegas and Port Townsend, Washington.  And I’m eager to cover it.  That first night I got to Redding by midnight.  I was very, very ready for a shower and a bed.  So I stop at the Super 8 in Redding: Full.  In Redding?  Ok, Motel 6: Full.  Quality Inn: Full.  So I expressed myself thusly: “Holy fucking fuck.  You’ve got to be fucking fuck fuck fuuuuck!” 

Then I tried “The Shasta Dam Motel.”  Never a more Bates-y looking Motel (at least at 1am) will you ever find…  “A lot of horror movies start this way,” I say.  I did, literally, say that.  I pictured ringing the bell at the “office” and a greasy looking guy coming out holding a ventriloquist dummy upright as though he’s part of the conversation.  “12 cabins. 12 vacancies.” the dummy would say, chuckling.  Or worse, “we’re all full, but you can stay in my… Mother’s old room…”

I got the fuck out…

So I drove North to find the next hotel.  But the next thing I saw was a Rest Area.  That’ll do.  I park, pull out my sleeping pad and bag, and sleep.  Glorious sleep.

4 un-restful hours later I awake to the sounds of the rest stop in full swing.  Bleary eyed, I find food from a nearby restaurant that serves “Santa Cruz Coffee Roasting Company” coffee.  I take it as a good omen.  The rest of the drive home was smooth sailing.  I was even met with a rainbow when I got to Washington.  Another good omen.  1375 miles in 2 days.  I was ready to be home.

And the hugs from Dakota and the girls at the door were… priceless.  I made it.  This time my deep breath was a happy one.