Have you ever wondered at God’s sense of humor?
Lowell says he had a specific prayer as he was growing up because he always seemed to be low on patience. So he distinctly prayed for patience.
Then I have to wonder if God didn’t say, “Okay, you wanted patience. I will give you six energetic children and a blonde wife behind the wheel of your Jeep. Then by the time you are seventy, you will have come through so many trying circumstances, you will be nothing but patience!”
Or perhaps it is me God is trying to teach the lesson on patience. Especially lessons that come wrapped up in orange with four wheels.
Have I told you about this Jeep? Let me refresh your memory. It’s alot of fun to take it into the mountains with friends – especially when my husband is along to drive it and repair it. Those are awesome times!
But . . .
When I am alone behind the wheel, it seems to feel like the orange monster has it in for me. Kind of like those old Love Bug movies with the VW Bug, Herbie. This Jeep (or perhaps its driver) is drawn to backing up into trees, getting bumpers ripped off by carports, and stopping dead in the middle of road. Yep. Every last one happened to me.
But the one that took the cake up until last week was when it stopped on a winding road with a hill on one side and steep downward incline on the other. My aforementioned husband kindly was on his way to bale me out and advised me to put it in neutral and give it a push down the hilly road. Say what?!! Of course I was supposed to hop in before it got too far and steer it to the bottom. Naive that I am, I figured that if he thought I could do it, then who was I to question my own superwoman abilities? Besides, that would be slightly humiliating.
Have you ever seen a blonde whipping around a mountain corner with no power steering? I’d like to say it was breath taking. Come to think of it, it probably was . . . in a not-so-good-kind of way.
Then there was the incident of the flat tire.
I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to walk that road. You ever have a feeling something lurks in your future and you are just waiting for it to show up? That was me last week. I knew somewhere, sometime I would have a flat tire while running mail in some remote area of the mountains.
Unfortunately, that time happened while dear husband was away on hunting furlough to procure us some needed elk meat.
Let me tell it to you how it really happened.
It was one of those days that scream “Go back to bed and start me over!” Seriously. I was scheduled to run mail and thought I wasn’t doing too badly although I felt rather thick-headed by the time I got everything cased and into the Jeep by 10 am.
Then it began to go downhill. It felt like I was going two steps forward and three steps back . . . I couldn’t seem to keep up with myself, let alone get ahead. By the time I arrived at the border, I was already 45 minutes behind schedule. Three times I had made a mistake and had to retrace my steps.
Now you need to know something about mail. You are timed. Almost quite literally. If you are not back to the post office by 4:30 with all your outgoing mail from people’s mailboxes, then you must drive it down to the Spokane mail plant by yourself that evening. Not exactly someone’s idea of an exciting outing after a long day!
So you are constantly trying to not only throw mail into boxes at a fast rate, but you also need to be alert to potential hazards of running into things such as deer, moose, the occasional bear, the too-close-mailbox, a tree or two, a semi-trailer or other moving objects, and of course – humans. Let’s not forget the humans.
I was trying to make up lost time as I bumped along the road that hugs the west side of our valley. Heading up to the most remote point on our route, in rather a lonely place, I picked up packages and delivered mail, turned around, and was heading back down the road.
The evening before, a slight storm had come through and scattered tree debris all over the road. There were small branches, leaves, and bark lying in the way.
But even though the Jeep had caused me some near heart failures before, I trusted the little thing. It had held true more than it had not. And they are supposed to be nearly indestructible, right? Weren’t these things made for crawling over rocks, into water, and up mountains? Surely a few tree limbs would be a piece of cake.
So I whipped on through, going merrily on my way. Until I heard a rather startling whooshing sound outside my window. Uh oh. That did not sound good.
Stopping the Jeep quickly (like my husband had always warned me to do), I got out and realized my future had now become my reality. My poor back tire sat there expelling air at an alarming rate. I felt alarmed anyway; the tire just looked rather sad.
Now I did what any self-respecting female would do when under a time crunch, almost out of cell service range, and with who knows what wild creatures lurking in the woods behind her . . . you sit down on the road and have a good cry.
Actually, I didn’t. You sometimes don’t have time to cry! Besides, it was rather strange, but I felt like my time had been taken out of my hands and I would simply have to throw myself on some stranger’s mercy until our friend and co-worker could reach me.
I did try to look like I at least needed help by opening a few doors and turning on my flashers, but it didn’t work on the first two passersby. And my pride wouldn’t let me break down and do the whole helpless, weeping female-beside-the-road act. I suppose I could have scrolled through Pinterest to kill time.
Thankfully, the third car stopped and a young man hopped out. I explained to him what I needed and he began to dig out his tire jack – since I couldn’t find mine. I knew it was hidden somewhere in the Jeep and my husband had probably shown it to me a couple years before . . . but I had slept a few times since then and promptly forgot it.
We proceeded to then have a nice conversation, after he reminded me to set the emergency brake. Actually, the conversation may have been more one-sided because I had not much to do besides watch him work on my tire. I mean, if someone is taking parts off of my Jeep, I really should know something about them, right? So I began to make small talk, although looking back, he may have wondered why he was getting interrogated by the mail lady.
Come to find out, he was from Ohio and had been to our church here! Thankfully, I didn’t ask him what he’d had for breakfast. We are known for being friendly here in northern Idaho, but there are some lines we try not to cross.
As he was fixing it, he remarked at the “tree” stuck into my tire. It wasn’t until later after all the wonderful and kind people who helped me had gone and I made it home, that I really looked at the tire.
Sure enough, it was a rather nice sized stick that I had managed to pick up along the road. But not until the guy at the tire shop had taken it off the rim to patch it did we see how big it really was. He called it “impressive”! And said the tire was shot.
Who knows . . . perhaps I will set it in my yard, fill it with dirt, and plant petunias in it.
Thankfully, we had a good spare and nobody was hurt in the process. But maybe, just maybe, I will not think this little orange Jeep quite so indestructible as before . . . and have more of a respect for what nature can do to mere rubber.
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Regina S says
Oh my goodness Kendra what an adventure! I’m sure it is not something you definitely not want to repeat. I do have a deeper repect now for our mail delivery people. We are also rural and our mail is delivered by a sweet couple who have to content with some of what you described. And let’s not even get into weather related obstacles like thunderstorms and snow!
Kendra says
Yes, I would much rather prefer to deliver in the summer than in the snow and ice!
Regina S says
Oh and I think the Jeep needs to have a name. A name that should describe the Jeep well.
Kendra says
We named it “Tigger” once upon a time. 😉
Christina K. says
Wow! What an adventure! I can totally visualize all your mail delivery escapades because my husband is a RCA here in IL. At least if he misses the mail truck he only has a 30 minute drive!
Kendra says
How fun – a fellow mail-man’s wife!! Yes, that is the stinker here . . . our drive would be around 2 1/2 hours. 🙁 But thankfully we made it in time!