July 3, 2024, To Infinity and Beyond the Oil Light

 

July 3, 2024, To Infinity and  Beyond the Oil Light

As I awoke in Denver. I realized I had to leave early and had no clue what environment I’d be running in the city of Denver. I was apprehensive. I figured to get out early and get a short run of no more than five miles in. Partially because I had no clue of the structure of the streets.

When I’d driven the night before, I saw a tired city. I saw the potential for crime. I had a person I’d trained in self-defense tell me she’d never want to be me. When I asked her ‘why?’. She stated, “You enter an area and immediately you’re sizing the area and the people up.” I remarked, “Well, I have to. It’s what I usually do.” She shook her head. She came back with, “But it’s so…” I replied, “Yeah. I want to make certain I see the problem before it happens.” I live like that.

 I’ve ran and walked through major city streets such as in the Bronx (many NYCity areas), Albany, Flint-MI, Tampa Bay, San Diego, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia,  Detroit, Minneapolis, St. Paul, Dania Beach-FLA, Washington D.C., Stamford, Hartford, New Haven, Newark-NJ, Jersey City, Paterson, Passaic, Atlantic City, Trenton, Camden, Houston, Austin, Dallas, Butte-MT, Mesa-AZ, Los Angeles, Omaha, Las Vegas, Bend-OR, Chicago, Wheeling-WV, Cleveland, Toledo, Milwaukee, Providence, Raleigh, Fayettville, St. Louis-MO, Holyoke-MA, Springfield-MA, Boston, other areas of Denver and other country areas Guanzhou-China, Changsha, Chongching, Bejing in the past. This, just to name a few big cities with big city issues like homelessness, and violent crime.

I’ve learned how to dress when getting a cup of coffee blocks from my hotel like in Flint, Michigan and other cities where I know danger lurks for a small person like myself.

Soon I was out the hotel, it was quiet. I took a mental picture of the surrounding areas. I made landmarks in my mind. There was construction on certain avenues. As I ran, I noticed certain traffic light areas that looked as if I was in Pittsburgh. The way traffic was directed was not as fluid as it should be for safety of the driver, cyclist nor pedestrian. It was much stop and go in my running for every traffic light. It wasn’t that there was much traffic, it was the direction of the traffic and the inconsistency of the avenues.

Finally, I got to some park-like areas. They had tents set up for the Fourth of July celebrations. I cautiously ran through the streets, barely seeing another person on foot. I realized if I were running behind someone and they looked business-like, I may startle them. Sure enough as I ran, a business-like man—who looked like a forty-year-old I.T. guy wearing a small backpack. He turned back to see who was approaching, hearing my running steps I gathered. He looked startled. I said, “Good morning.” As I approached. I never saw a guy so scared on a sunny day as I’d approached on foot. He had no clue how to respond. In fact, his expression was one of ‘deer-in-headlights’ look.

After that I was headed back running towards the hotel. I’d realized I’d get five miles in and run once I reached my next destination after a near 550 mile drive that day. After I finished my run, cleaned up, re-packed stuff, called the valet parking attendant and made my way to checkout. Before I knew it I was on my way to Bellevue, Nebraska. I had no clue what the terrain at my next hotel would be like.

Once again as I received flood warnings as I got on I-25N which then led me to I-76E to I-76N bringing me to I-80E for nearly 350 miles. My paper map and my GPS took me through an area at the end that led me into a rural to suburban backroads for miles. The residential area appeared to have relatively new homes, no older than thirty years past construction. I soon was checking into my hotel. It was just on the outskirts of a low key residential neighborhood and within a half mile of strip malls and a major thoroughfare-like highway.

I got my gear and went to my hotel room, set things up and got my running gear on. I left and ran for thirty minutes and discovered that the area I’d driven through was probably newer construction than I’d thought. The quiet neighborhood, where barely a car moved had newly constructed sidewalks. I could’ve ran more, but I’d driven through without stopping for over 500 miles purposely so I would eat a good dinner in a timely fashion for me to be able to get up early the next morning for a ten-mile run before heading to my in-laws in Wisconsin.

I got back and asked the two men at the front desk about eateries. The one young man said, “Sickies”. I thought what a weird name. I smiled and said, ‘Thank you’. The older of the two men gave me a coupon for “Sickies”. The name still freaked me out. I thought to myself as I exited towards my parked car, sounds like an illness, not a restaurant. I encouraged myself to stop thinking so negatively about something I knew nothing about. And besides these two men were indeed scrupulous to me. So, I needed to trust them. Not something I like doing.

I got into my car, started up the engine. And the very thing I’d thought about 200 miles previously on my way to Bellevue, Nebraska was, ‘I’d better check my oil level.’ For I normally get oil changes on my new car every 4,000 miles. Even though the car manuals and my mechanic state 6,000 miles is the norm. I’ve always been aware of how important it is to have your oil changes a bit early. I had the car checked a couple weeks ago. To make certain that the car was in tip-top shape for this nearly 6,500-mile drive.

I’d calculated and told my mechanic that I’d be about 1,500 miles past the 6,000-mile marker. He told me that it would be fine. At this point I was at 5,036 miles of the journey. Already 500 miles over the 6,000-mile mark.

Then it happened, seconds after I started my car the oil light went on. Yes, a panic-feeling arose. Sometimes you’re like the Heroic Maccabees’—and sometimes the car actually needs oil. I figured to drive to the nearest service station. It was now half past seven. I went towards the strip centers and busier areas just before the large thoroughfare. There were no service stations in sight. Tons of shops, a Walmart, eateries and the like, but not a gas or service station in view.

I prayed, “Dear God, all’s I need is a person to have the know how on this and of course checking my oil with me.” I knew I hadn’t done this in a while. And the last time I changed an oil filer was late 1983, and it was on a diesel tractor-trailer.

I drove in circles, then I saw the side of building with an old 1950s Texaco sign, then an old Mobil sign. I remember them from when I was a kid. The parking lot had a few cars in it. It was a building. I drove up a small driveway and parked. The place was an eatery, but it was open. I figured someone in there could direct to an open service station.

I got out of my car, locked it, and walked into the eatery. There was a young boy of late teenage years. He was behind a desk. I gushed, “I really need a service station, my oil light just went on about a half mile ago. Could you please help me?”

He asked, “Where’s your car?” I replied, “It’s the blue one in the parking lot.” The teenager tilted his head. “I see it.” He called out, “I’m going to help this lady.” Then turned to me and said, “Show me.”

I led he followed. I explained how much I’d been driving and the stats on my oil changes and such. I popped the hood as he’d requested. He said, “Lets wait a little its hot. But I bet you need two quarts of OW20.” I asked how’d you figure that out?” He pointed to the top of the oil cap. “Oh. Awesome.” I responded.

Then he asked, “Do you know where the Walmart is?”  I replied, “Yes.” He added, “Go there. They should have it. I’ll help you check the oil and get it in the car. My name is Austin.” I thanked him and off I drove to the Walmart just two-tenths of a mile away.

I ran in and looked for the automotive aisle. I wandered up and down and finally a young worker helped me and they had OW20 in five-quart containers. I ran to the front with the bottle and did the self-scan for the purchase. Soon in my car I was off back to the restaurant. I wondered what the name of it was. But I figured with my ‘Rainman-like’ memory I’d just follow by retracing my driving steps. So I did.

Soon I was parked back at the restaurant’s parking lot. I realized as I got out of my car and entered the restaurant, the name of the restaurant was “Sickies”. Actually, it was Sickies Garage, Burgers & Brews”. I’d say—divine intervention.

I entered, the kid was not in view. I asked, “Where’s the young man  named Austin?” They called for him. He arrived promptly. We went out to my car. I popped the hood. He was looking around outside the front of my car, as I held the container of OW20 Oil. I said, “I had a funnel.” He replied, “That’s what I was thinking.” I paused, “Ohhhh. I left it in New Jersey.” Within seconds Austin found a fast food French fry cardboard cup holder. He poked a hole in it. I looked at him. “I think that’ll work.’ He nodded. He then was able to check my oil level. “Yeah two quarts will do it.” The kid was a gearhead or a grease-monkey. Either one was way more sufficient to resolve the pickle I was in.

“Here, hold this over the oil spout.” I held the fast-food French fry cardboard cup. He poured the oil in. Then he checked it. It was a perfect measurement. He double-checked himself. The oil level was spot on where it should be. I sighed. We cleaned up with scott towels I had. I had six dollars in my pocket. I said, “Hey. I know it's not much.” He remarked, “You don’t have to do that.” I replied, “I have to do something. You’re such a saint. Or at least an angel.” I followed Austin into the restaurant.

I then asked him, “May I order takeout?” Austin replied, “Yeah, see Rob at the bar.” I went over to the bar and spoke with Rob about a late thirty to forty-something year old man. “I need to place a takeout order. I’ve never been here. So please tell what burger would be best for my first time here.”

I placed my order. I sat, there was no one at the bar and Rob and I chatted. We led to how his employee—was at the very least a keeper. I told him why and the vibe I’d gotten off Austin. Then we began to talk about miracles. I told Rob I’d experienced one at least every day of my life that I could recall. Then I told him of two which seemed to blow his mind. He was captivated. I enjoyed sharing those moments with a stranger.

Soon, my takeout burger, sweet potato fries and salad were ready for me to take with me. I tipped him, thanked him, and started my car. The one thing I reminded myself was, was that my mechanic had told me a few years ago. It was with the car I had, that the lights that had alarmed me—that once the problem was solved the car would compute, reset itself and the dash light that had alarmed me would turn off. Showing me that all was okay with that aspect of the car.

Within two-tenths of a mile the oil light that had alarmed me cleared. I breathed a sigh of relief seconds later I pulled into the hotel parking lot. I came in and went upstairs to my hotel room. The meal was truly delicious and fulfilling. I went downstairs and thanked the guys at the front desk and told them what had just happened. They loved the story.---Jody-Lynn Reicher