The Biggest Guy in Town

We’re on our second truck in 2 years.  After the untimely death of our beloved truck, Buck, to the front end of a Canadian commercial van, we had to upgrade from a 1999 to a 2000 Nissan Frontier.  We’ve put nearly 50,000 miles on our newest steed and the tough old girl has done amazingly well.  Billie Jo is her name – in honor of the salesman, Bill, from Michigan City, Indiana that helped us find her.  She fires up without any complaints and the gas mileage hovers in the mid teens while pulling out little home.  She’s been as reliable as the dawn.  That being said, as with any 14 year old, we’ve had a few issues. 

The distributor took a crap in Searcy, Arkansas.  Our raised hood in the Walmart parking lot garnered some attention, conjecture and good old fashioned advice, or as we call it in Watauga County, “might coulds”.   “Yeah, you might could change out the fuel filter,” translation: “while it is possible that a clogged fuel filter is the cause of your engine trouble, replacing it has an unlikely probably of resolving the issue.”  Did that stop me?  Hell no, I got under there and had that thing swapped out, and myself covered in gasoline in just under 2 hours.  While I was lying on the pavement with my feet sticking out from under the chassis, we received 3 offers of assistance, a solid lead on a reliable mechanic, and an invitation to tour a mint 1967 VW Beetle.  Despite my heroic efforts, the fuel filter turned out to be a red herring and we limped to the dealership for a new distributor.  600 dollars later, and some additional beta on where to paddle in northeastern Arkansas, we were back on the road.

Near Idaho Falls, ID we experienced a sudden shock to the otherwise calm of driving down the highway.  After two days on the Snake River with some former students, we returned to our truck and not 15 minutes later, the temperature gauge goes through the roof.  While we know that even an old truck like ours can’t overheat that quickly, we remain a little too freaked out by the thought of pistons melting to the chassis.  We tow the whole rig into town and end up in front of Jon’s Auto. 

Now, there may be a nicer mechanic out there, but I haven’t met him or her.  After two days of parking our rig out front of his shop, two days of him and his staff chasing down one mysterious thermostat lead after another, two nights of using the office toilet and wireless network, we had a new gauge in the dash and a new family along the Snake River Plateau.  I’m not sure they ever want to see us again after the 4 times they had to reconfigure a $20 part, but if we break down anywhere near that time zone again – we’re getting towed right to his door.  Did I mention after all that time he only charged us $50?

We’ve had our share of road angels along the way, from the couple who stopped after we hit a dear in the UP and happened to have the come-along we needed to pull our bumper back into place, the medics on scene at our accident in North Bay (there were 4 who just happened to be at the same intersection), to our new friends in Canada who fed us Thanksgiving Dinner (Canadian style) and stored our things while we took the Greyhound bus to get our new truck.  We thought we were well acquainted with the unbelievably friendly and willing to help out, and then we met the Mayor of Wabash, Indiana. 

It isn’t quite 2 months after a complete rebuild of our distributor that the same symptoms re-appear.  As we happily bounce across John Mellencamp Indiana back roads, listening to “Whenever We Wanted,” the engine began to miss, stutter, and lose power.  Hope suggests that this might be some bad gas, or just some loose wire, or perhaps a poorly installed fuel filter, but reality makes us look for the nearest town.  Shari notes that a place called Wabash appears to be about 4 miles away.    
 

We roll into town and the engine suddenly dies.   After a few minutes rest in the Baptist church parking lot, a quick call to our friend and dial-a-mechanic, Amy Ikall, me striking the familiar stance of staring bewilderingly under the hood and Shari poking around at belts and hoses and checking the oil, we limp back on to the road.   Now we’re looking in earnest for a mechanic.  But of course timing has dealt us the perfect hand for a long weekend in town, as it is Friday at around 5:15pm and folks have already closed up for the day – and in these small towns that means closed up for the weekend.   Shari’s bladder gives us the perfect excuse to park downtown to find a toilet and ask for advice.  Fate chooses the time and all we have to do is follow her lead. 

We walk into a coffee shop and head for the back.  As Shari grabs the door to the only bathroom, a nicely dressed gentleman walks out, nods and gives her a curious glance that seems to say, “I don’t remember seeing you before.”   He’s wearing khaki pants, slip-on loafers and a pink golf shirt; he’s a slender man with silver hair and strength in his handshake that lets you know he’s not afraid of hard work.  I ask him if he can recommend a good mechanic and that’s when our friendship with Mike Beauchamp begins.   Mike has rarely helped a stranger before because no one can remain in his orbit for more than 5 minutes and not become a friend.

He’s not the mayor of Wabash but he might as well be, because he knows more about his town than the local historian and just about every 10 steps Mike greets someone by first name and asks them a question that lets you know he’s been paying attention.  Perhaps town crier is a better title because not only does he give us a recommendation for a mechanic but insists on taking us there, in person. 

He asks us a harmless question like, “so, what brings you to Wabash?”  While this could be answered easily, it’s too tempting, fun and complicated to not give him the broader details of our back story.  This leads, as it often does, to a private tour of our camper and an inspection of our sea kayaks.  Mike’s curiosity and easy conversation finds us meandering from topic to topic as he shows off the highlights of downtown. 

“I’m a bit of an adventurer myself in fact I’ve had the great pleasure of taking my children on some long boat trips in my 14 footer.  I’ve been up to the Great Falls of the Missouri River with my daughter, down the Mississippi River starting right here in Wabash with my son, and I’ve come up the Erie canal with my other daughter.  I’ve been fortunate to see some great parts of this country.” 

“You all look like serious adventurers, what if I take you on a little adventure around Wabash?”  We head to his 1990 Caprice Classic that his father drove before passing on.  “It’s my goal to keep this car in top shape until it reaches 290 thousand miles,” he tells us as we climb into the spacious back seats.  This car is one from the digital dashboard era, and everything lights up in the familiar green blue of the time.  I am certain that this might have been a talking car, “the door, is ajar… the door, is ajar…”  Thankfully, this old beauty remains quiet.  Mike makes up for it.

Here’s the Eagles Theatre, which was renovated about 10 years ago.  The Eagle was built in the early 20^th century and would have featured a pipe organ for the silent movies.  Oddly, we know far more than the average Joes about early 20^th century theater pipe organs as Shari’s step-father is the owner of just such an instrument which takes up the better part of the basement and garage in his North Carolina home.  But that is another story…

Here is the infamous Modoc’s Market coffee shop named in honor of the elephant who broke free of his circus handlers in 1942 and ran amuck through downtown.  He chose this building because of the unmistakable smell of peanuts roasting at the end of the counter in the then drug-store establishment occupying the corner.  The story goes that he let himself in the door, taking most of the framing and windows with him, then ate all of the peanuts in the roaster and exited from the side plate glass window where he continued down the street.   

Mike’s wife runs the store and there are elephant statuary, knickknacks, and images all over the shop.  One Christmas, Mike gave her a life-sized statue of an elephant as a gift.  It cost him only $100 on eBay; the delivery was a bit more, involving a trailer, a driver, and over a grand in gas money.  And for all that work, what was his wife’s reaction upon seeing her early morning Christmas delivery on the front lawn of their yard, “When is that thing leaving?”  It is now such an icon for the town they simply can’t part with it. 

As we drive by his house near downtown, he continues with the story.  “It all started as a joke, but people take their senior pictures with her, and I even came upon a family spreading out a blanket and having a picnic right next to her. I hated to tell them it was my front lawn as they looked like they were enjoying themselves.”

On to the mechanic shop which was indeed closed up for the weekend and we head over to the Wabash River which proudly hosts the Annual Wabash River Defenders 62 Ton Clean-Up.  We circle around the beautiful historic courthouse, and over to the 13-24 Drive-In Theatre, circa 1953.  Who owns this drive-in, you guessed it…Mike!   Looks like we had just found our entertainment for the night as our 1957 camper needed to experience a drive-in of its same era and earn its keep by providing us a place to make dinner and popcorn for the show.

All of this aside, Wabash’s real claim to fame is displayed on the sign which welcomes you to their lovely Midwestern town – The World’sFirst Electrically Lighted City.  We, too, took a double take when we saw this claim, the WORLD’S first electric city?  Really?  Some town had to be first, I guess.

After at least an hour and a half of great conversation and storytelling, Mike had nearly invited us for dinner and a place to shower, and a bed for the night, when his wife called to find out his whereabouts.  Turns out his wife had made other plans.  We assured him that we were just fine, but appreciated his offer and all of his assistance. 

We fired up the truck and decided to chance the journey back to the drive-in for the evening.   Whilst sitting in our camp chairs enjoying an ice-cold beer, our homemade popcorn and watching the Edge of Tomorrow, who walks up to greet us?  Mike!  Evidently, he ran into his friend Jeff, the mechanic who owns the Kirtlan Automotive shop he had told us about.  He wanted to let us know that he told him our story and Jeff agreed to come in on a Saturday morning to take a look at the truck.  Wow, that isn’t necessary, but thanks, Mike!

We show up at 9am sharp to meet Jeff at the shop and take the truck for a swing around block. He suspects that the new alternator that we had replaced in Arkansas a couple of months earlier is indeed defective.  He hooks it up to the diagnostic machine and we settle in to enjoy a leisurely morning in the waiting room reading Outside and Hot Rod magazines.  Or, so we thought.  Not 10 minutes later, Mayor Mike walks into the shop.  He has come to check on us to make sure all is going as it should and that he  remembered us using the term “organic farming” in our conversation last night and wanted to let us know that there was a great local famer’s market just down the street on Saturday morning. 

“Can I give you a ride there?”  Sure, of course you can, Mike!   We stock up on some tasty local fruits and veggies and head back to the mechanic.  “Nearly done, should have you back on the road in about 20 minutes,” says Jeff.  “Got the oil changed for you too.”   All for less than $80.
 

We were back on the road in no time, we thank everyone for making our short stay in Wabash so memorable, and we begin making tracks until we reach Wyoming…when the phone rings.  You guessed it, it’s Mike just calling to check on us and make sure that the truck is doing ok and to wish us well on our journey ahead.  

If you watch TV news regularly, you will be convinced that life is a dangerous business, people will rob you, and make your life a living hell, or the weather is conspiring to personally kill your children.   To each and every one of our road angels, please continue to restore people’s faith in humanity and in each other-- you have done an amazing job on ours.