South Coast Rock Tour
~ Day 18 ~
Edinburg…Car Wash Catastrophe…Mission, TX…The Carebs.
The Edinburg Walmart was like most Wally Worlds. I tend to
gravitate towards the middle the parking lot and like to pull up next to a
grocery cart corral on my passenger side. My morning and evening routines are
weird and there is often no reason for them except that they are familiar
routines in the often-unfamiliar lack of routine during my time outside of a
Walmart parking lot. My morning routine is to wake up when I feel rested enough
(this can differ from 8am-11am), make my backseat bed (fold blankets and put
subwoofer back in rightful place), eat breakfast (1 banana, 1 of mom’s PB
protein balls, 1 V8 can, and a cigarette), put my shoes on to clean up in the steel
bathroom, go back to sit in Tumbler to pray about the day, and write. I do this
every morning when at a Walmart. It is a routine that works well. The familiar
routines balance out my love for spontaneity, the unknown, the randomness, and
the unexpected. Such was today… the morning routine and then experiences that
were the above adjectives.
I was tired from the day in San Antonio and had stayed up
late writing. Slept in until 11am and did my morning routine. Wrote in the
comfort of Tumbler till 2:30 as the emotions of writing about my last day in
Austin with Mark Anthony and my street family was hard to put into words. I had
told Erika and Duane Careb that I would be coming to their mobile abode between
3-4pm that afternoon. I closed my laptop after pushing the “post” button. Sat
there for a while as flashbacks of memories flooded my heart and mind. Oh, how
I missed my friends. I also thought of
all the friends and strangers who had become friends since leaving Austin. This
trip had been a wild ride already and it had not even been 3 weeks into the 3-month
journey. God had already showed His awesomeness in so many ways. I put on a
Josh Garrels’ playlist and cranked up the volume as I pulled out to the road
that would lead to Mission, Texas.
On the way, I patted Tumbler’s dashboard and out loud said,
“You are doing such a good job, Tumbler. Let’s go get you a nice bath and shine
you up.” Yes, I talk to my truck. A car wash was seen at a Stripes gas after a
few miles. I pulled in and drove up to pay for a “The Best” wash. A white
pick-up truck had just entered to shine up his truck. I watched the whole wash
and was grateful for not being distracted with my phone or cleaning my nails,
for ya’ll will see why it was good I saw the white truck get more than what he
paid for. After getting sprayed with the tri-color soapy foam, the overhead and
side brushes started going back and forth. This guy had definitely bought “The
Ultimate” wash, for they scrubbed this truck multiple times. Around the third
time they passed over, I noticed the truck starting to lean to one side. I
leaned forward against my steering wheel and spotted the reason… one of his
back tires had gone flat. Like to the rim flat. “Oh my! That’s not good” I
whispered. The blue and black brushes were still going back and forth. Then, I
noticed that the truck leveled out again and my jaw dropped, for I saw his
other rear tire had gone flat to the rim. “What in the dickens is going on?”
The brushes did one last pass and again, the truck was unevenly leveled again
and I assumed that another tire in the front had made a trifecta of tire
tragedy. I was practically leaning over Tumbler’s dashboard now and my hand was
on my forehead as I looked at the man sitting in his truck, possibly cleaning
his nails. The brushes had stopped and the truck was rinsed and given a clear
coat, wax and blow dried. The green light went on and the man put his truck in
drive. I gripped my own wheel and waited to see how the truck would move
forward. In hindsight, I should have gotten out to let the poor guy know that
he should keep his truck in park. This guy had to rev up the engine just to
move the rim-riding tires a few inches. He was oblivious to his situation.
Maybe he was thinking he had to jump that bump that is often at the end of the
car wash, for he then gave the throttle a good push and the completely flat
tires flippity-flopped forward out of the car wash. It wasn’t funny at the
time, but I’m cracking up laughing right now for that mental image is downright
hilarious. When this dude exited, I finally got out of my truck and started
waving my arms to get the attention of the guy in his rearview mirror. He saw
me, stopped, and got out of his truck. “Dude, your tires are completely flat. I
saw the whole thing!” He walked around his truck while shaking his head but not
saying a word. “Maybe there were nails on the floor.” I walked into the car
wash to investigate, but since I had already paid for “The Best” wash, when I
walked in, the undercarriage wash was activated. The water jets blasted me and
I was so caught off guard by the sudden shock that I spun around in the
blinding, spraying water for enough time to get near drenched. Finally
stumbling back to Tumbler’s hood, I leaned on it with my elbow. Yelled “I
needed a shower anyway!” to the man who was laughing loudly at me despite his
non-humorous situation. Walked around the wash and the two of us surveyed the
shiny, flat tires. His name was Rodrigo. This guy was a cool as a cucumber. He
just kept walking around and shaking his head. “I don’t understand what
happened.” We went inside the gas station and told one of the attendant who
then came out to check out the truck. We went inside the car wash from the exit
side and Rodrigo jabbed my wet body with his elbow as we told the lady how I
had gotten a wash too. We found 3 valve stems, broken off from the tires… the
reason for the sudden deflation. Again, Rodrigo was so calm. He didn’t yell,
scream or swear. He only wanted the gas station to call a mechanic to come reinsert
the valve stems and air them up. The manager had been called and she was a real
trip. Opposite of Rodrigo, she was rude, arrogant, and dismissive of any
responsibility. The cops were called. I was now already running late and called
the Careb’s to tell them I would be there at 5pm. While waiting for the cops, I
talked with Rodrigo and commended him for his collectiveness and self-control.
“I’ve matured in my older years, kid.” Mature was a fitting word for Rodrigo.
We each filled out police reports when they showed up. This unfortunate event
would have happened to my truck if I had been the first in line. Tumbler was
the same size as the white truck. I got my $10 back, for “The Best” wash I
purchased would have been “The Ultimate Worst” wash that Rodrigo had paid for. And
he ended up paying for a mechanic to come fix his tires as well. No Bueno.
Tumbler would get a wash another day, and we pulled out on
the road to Mission, Texas. I thanked God for my dirty truck that had 4
perfectly pressurized tires. My GPS wasn’t able to find the RV park. After
driving around, the thousands of RV’s that occupied various campgrounds, Duane
met me at a Dollar General store to lead me back to their RV resort that was
way down the road and way more upscale than the sites I had seen. This place
was posh, gated, and stunningly sleek Mobile Homes and 5th Wheelers
lined the circular roads. I parked Tumbler in their 2cd driveway and let out a
deep sigh. I was wet, but I felt like I was home. The evening and tomorrow
would be spent with the Carebs, whom I love dearly. More will be written about
these mission-minded, tender-hearted, Jesus-loving people tomorrow. They would
house, feed, wash, and pour into me while staying with them.
Sometimes it’s good to wait in line.
Unshakable Peace and Purpose
Cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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