Not According to Plan, Part II

This is a continuation of the Thanksgiving story I started last month. (Wow, it's taken a long time to tell this story, hasn't it?) You'll probably want to read the first part, just to refresh your memory. I had to, and I'm the one telling the story.

Thursday (cont.)

We also didn't see my Mom for a lot of the day on Thursday. She's had pneumonia for the past couple of weeks generally hasn't been feeling well. Serious consideration was given to her staying home for the weekend, but her response was, "Sick at home or sick in Montana, I'd rather be in Montana." So she made the trip. She didn't get to enjoy it much, though, because she experienced vertigo and lightheadedness any time she tried to get up.

Mom and Dad also rented a car for this trip. Since they were bringing a total of seven with them (Mom, Dad, Sam, Kendra, Kona, Mikayla, and Jordan), they rented a van. Or so they thought. What they actually got was a minivan. It was a nice enough vehicle, a Honda Odyssey, but a little small for six people and a dog plus luggage. Also a little unusual was the placement of the gearshift knob—on the console, next to the heat/AC controls. I drove the van a couple of times, and it always felt weird reaching over to shift from Reverse to Drive. Good sound system, though.

Anyway, we spent the afternoon with the combined family eating good food, telling stories, and playing games. At the end of the day Sam and Kendra decided to go into Bozeman for the night to hang out with Cousin Dan, his wife Amy, their two children Ella and Henry, and their hot tub. It was an appealing idea, but I was just too tired to make the hour-long trip that late. So we retired to the Pony Cabin and called it a night.

Friday

We awoke the following morning, got cleaned up, and made our way back up to the New Cabin (or, as I like to call it, 'The Chateau') for breakfast. Mom tried to join us, but the vertigo was even worse that the day before. So Dad called their doctor in Colorado, and the doctor told him Mom needed to go to the hospital right now. Aunt Anne called for an ambulance, and within just a few minutes—remarkable, considering just how far out in the middle of nowhere we were—the first responders had arrived. They took Mom's vital signs, got her on an IV, and just generally started stabilizing her condition.

In the middle of all of this Nancy asked Mom if she'd like a blessing, and she said she did. So I was pressed into emergency service, and we explained to the paramedics that I was an Elder in the Mormon church and that I was going to administer to her. It was one of the hardest blessings I've ever had to give. It was hard to put aside my own feelings and desires and really listen to the Spirit. I don't really remember most what I said in the blessing—I never really do—but I do remember blessing her that she'd be okay until she got the medical treatment that she needed, and that those who worked with her would be competent. So with tears in our eyes, Mom thanked me, I thanked her, and we let the paramedics get back to what they were doing.

Something like an hour later the ambulance arrived to take Mom to Bozeman Deaconess Hospital, where she would spend the next three days or so. At this point, it was pretty much decided that we needed to move the weekend's proceedings from Pony into Bozeman. So we packed up our stuff, as well as all the stuff Sam and Kendra had left behind (including Kona, plus Anne & Daryl's dog Zelda), and made the move.

Nancy and I also had the task of getting Granny's car re-registered on Friday, since that would be the only day we could do it before driving home. So we made our way to Whitehall and found Granny's house on First Street. We let ourselves in and got into the garage. There we opened up the car and began searching for the previous year's registration. It wasn't in the glove compartment. Given how well-organized Granny was, this was strange. We searched all the pockets and compartments in the car, to no avail. So we started looking in the house. After about 10 minutes of searching we found the registration on her desk. So, papers in hand, we made our way east on I-90 towards Bozeman and the courthouse.

Aunt Anne had given us directions for finding the place to renew the registration, and I only missed turning off on the correct street by a block, so that was good. We went in and were greeted with a rather unusual sign: "We DO NOT accept credit cards. Cash and checks ONLY." Hard to believe, but there it is: There does still exist a place on earth where they would rather risk having a check bounce than pay credit card fees. So we turned around and left, in search of an ATM. And we found one, just next door. The bad news was that I knew I was going to get hosed on fees, just because of who the ATM belonged to. (I won't mention any names, but it rhymes with "Sells Cargo".) Sure enough, the fees totaled about 4½% of the withdrawal amount, which I guess isn't too bad (but no fees would have been better). Cash in hand, I rejoined Nancy and we made our way back up to the counter.

Upon presenting the registration for to the lady at the desk, her first question was, "What's the new address?" I blanked for a moment, then told her the address on the form was still valid. (It's where they had mailed the form, after all.) I explained that it was my grandmother's car and that we were in town to renew the registration for her. The problem, apparently, was that we had crossed county lines to get to Bozeman, so she wanted a Bozeman address. With no time to figure out what else to do, I called Anne to find out the address for the assisted living center where Granny now lived. No answer. So Nancy and I each started scrolling through our address books, looking for any number we could use to get hold of someone who knew something. It took a while, and I don't recall who it was that we finally reached, but at last we were able to give the lady an address she liked, pay the fee, and get the car registered. Problem solved.

We ended the day with a visit to Bozeman Deaconess to see Mom. The hospital was apparently pretty busy and rooms were at a premium, so she was still in the ER (after something like 10-12 hours). But she looked and felt a lot better. The initial diagnosis (or one of them, anyway) was that she was suffering from dehydration and malnutrition, probably as a result of not being able to keep any food or drink down for several days. She was happy to see us, but she looked tired. She was probably just as happy to see us go.

Saturday

This was the day we finally got to deal with the mechanical problem(s) with Granny's car. Daryl had assured us that all it needed was a new battery, so Dad, Sam, Uncle Daryl, and I made our way to a local Checker Auto store and bought one. Then Nancy, Sam, and I took the minivan to Whitehall to install the battery and resuscitate the car. We got into Granny's garage and pushed the car out into the open where we could see what we were doing. We got the old battery out and cleaned the cables and contacts. Then we hooked up the new battery and started it up. Or tried to, anyway. It would turn over, but it wouldn't actually start. Then, after a few minutes, a new problem developed: it wouldn't stop trying to start. That's right, the starter motor was working full time—even with the key pulled out of the ignition. The only way to stop it? You guessed it, disconnect the battery.

We pushed the car back into the garage, called and explained the situation to Daryl. He recommended that we try the one and only mechanic shop in Whitehall to see if they could take a look at it. We went over and found that neither mechanic was on site. It was the last weekend of hunting season in Montana, so both mechanics were out trying to fill their tags. At this point it finally became official: Granny's car wasn't going to be working in time for us to return to Utah. We were going to have to rent a car. Again. I started thinking about how much we would have saved by just bringing Nancy's car up like we had initially talked about.

At this point, we were under orders to go to Pony ad pick up all of Mom and Dad's stuff. So after a brief stop at KFC/A&W (try the cheese curds, if you never have) for lunch, we headed east and then south back to Pony. We searched the Chateau and the Pony Cabin for all traces of our family's stuff, then headed back to Harrison, then south to Norris, then east on the River Road to Bozeman.

While all of this was going on, Dad and Daryl had also headed back to Pony. Why? Because Daryl's a hunter, and it was the last weekend of the season, after all. What we didn't know was that Dad was going to catch a ride home with us. So we were about 15 miles from Bozeman when Sam's phone rang. Sure enough, it was Dad, wondering where we were and why we'd left without him. Sam: "You never told me we needed to give you ride home!" Dad: "I left you a message." So we turned around and went back to Pony and got Dad. Did I mention that it had started snowing by this time?

As finally we made our way into Bozeman, the snow was falling hard and fast and the roads were becoming slippery. Sam slid the minivan a little as we rounded the corner into Anne and Daryl's neighborhood. But we all got there safe and sound, and just in time for dinner. So the day wasn't a total loss.

Sunday

I had reserved a rental car online from Hertz Saturday night after dinner. They had an offer for a mid-sized car for about $20 less than anyone else. The plan was for Dad to take me out to Gallatin Field (the Bozeman airport) to pick up the car early that next morning. Nancy and I would head 30 miles east to Livingston to go to church with her grandmother. Then we would drive back through Bozeman and on to Whitehall, where we would take Highway 55 to Dillon and I-15. From there it would be all Interstate driving until Salt Lake City.

By now, you've probably figured out that my telling you how it was supposed to go means that it didn't actually happen that way.

Dad and I left the house just about the time we needed to, driving off into the thick frost/fog that had enveloped Bozeman from the night before. On our way to the airport we stopped briefly at Target to pick up something Mom said she needed. Then we were back on the road. For a long time. Yep, we were lost. I got a phone call from Nancy about ten minutes after we were supposed to have left for Livingston asking where we were. I told her we still hadn't found the airport yet, and I could tell she wasn't pleased. Neither was I, at this point. But we finally found the right road, and Dad dropped me off to pick up the car.

Just a tip for anyone renting from Hertz: most rental car companies consider a mid-sized car to be something like a Ford Taurus, which is what we drove up from SLC. Hertz, on the other hand, considers the Taurus a full-sized car. A mid-sized car would be something like a Ford Fusion, which is what they had waiting for me. It had less leg room and less head room, not to mention a gutless little four-cylinder engine that just was not meant for driving in the mountains of western North America. Now I know why they were $20 less than everyone else. Oh, and that price didn't include provisions for both of us to drive. That was an extra $10, plus they needed to see her driver's license, which obviously I didn't have. Which meant we were going to have to stop back at the airport on the way home, because I wasn't about to drive the whole trip. Most inconvenient and unexpected. Remember those old Hertz commercials where O.J. Simpson or some other celebrity says, "Hertz is #1"? Well, to quote Sam Diamond from Murder by Death, "You look more like #2 to me, you know what I mean?"

I got the car back to Anne and Daryl's house, and Nancy and I loaded up our stuff. Then it was off to Livingston. It was a terrible drive, especially up Livingston Pass. The roads were awful, and visibility just sucked most of the way. But we got there safely, just in time to catch part of Sunday school. We'd missed Sacrament meeting entirely. (We've been to church in Livingston three different times now, and we've never made it on time for Sacrament meeting.) After church we drove Nancy's grandmother back to her house 14 miles south of town, where all manner of relatives were gathered for a Thanksgiving feast. I got to meet some of Nancy's father's family, good people one and all, and funny too. Plus they put together a good feast. We ate and people talked about the family. I mainly just listened. There could be a test at the end...

The road back to Bozeman had improved a bit, but the weather and road conditions around Bozeman itself were just as bad as when we'd left several hours before. It was as if some weather-controlling supervillain had decided to shroud the valley, and only the valley, in bad weather to cover some sort of mischief. We got to the airport, got Nancy's name on the rental agreement, and got the heck out of town. Sure enough, as soon as we crossed the pass on the way to Whitehall, the weather started to improve. And soon after we left Whitehall toward Dillon, the roads cleared up, remaining clear and dry for the rest of the trip. We stopped a few times for food, fuel, and bathroom breaks, but the drive back to Salt Lake City from that point was unexpectedly and blessedly uneventful.

We got back from our vacation with this one idea burned vividly into both of our brains: We needed a vacation from vacations like this.