The Greatest Word Ever Spoken

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Kevin and I have returned safely to New Jersey. Unfortunately, we just narrowly missed a front row seat at Lil' Kim's release from a Philadelphia prison - perhaps our greatest disappointment of the trip. (Pause to wipe tear from eye. Gather strength to continue.)

Now it's time to reveal the real reasons why Kevin and I visited St. George, Utah. I'd mentioned that our lives were in danger. Tumors, you think? Asthma attacks? Ingrown toenails? Oh, no. St. George was the closest locale with a Chevrolet dealership. And why would we need one of these? Car problems, my friends. Car problems.

Faithful readers of this testimony will recall that we awoke on our first day of vacation to a flat tire. At the time I thought it was a shame that we'd have to pay $13 to fix something that didn't even belong to us. Oh, how naive I was.

To properly tell this tale, we must go back a few days - to June 19. Kevin and I were visiting the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, which is a region among the most remote in the U.S. Certainly, it was the most remote place I'd ever visited, and I'm from Indiana.

We visited the Bureau of Land management information center, where the watchful gaze of Bush and Cheney's official portraits smiled serenely down upon us. We asked the BLM pseudo-ranger for hike recommendations.

Pseudo-ranger: what kind of car do you drive?
Us: Um. A regular car?
Pseudo-ranger: Do you mind driving it 24 miles down a rough dirt road?
Us: Um. No?
Pseudo-ranger: Is it a rental?
Us: Yes.
Pseudo-ranger: No problem.

For the record, this is what we were driving: A 2006 Chevrolet HHR.


So, armed with a map and some trail descriptions, Kevin and I head off down the Hole-in-the-Rock Road. The first 17 miles or so of the road was fine: it was rough, certainly, but we were able to speed down at 20 MPH or so.

Then, it got a little rougher.

Then, we turned off on the short side road that would take us to our trail head, and it got rougher still.

But, we made it to the trailhead with seeming little problem. We were the only non-4WD car there, but we made it. Dusty, but intact.

The sign for our trailhead; two other cars at the trailhead; my message to the world.


The hikes themselves were amazing - we explored two slot canyons and the wider Dry Coyote Gulch canyon. The canyons were quite narrow. At times, we could barely squeeze through when on our sides. At other times, we needed to scramble on the sandstone. It was 106 degrees outside, but inside the slot canyons, with little sunlight peeking in, it was much cooler.

But, it was terribly remote. We remarked a few times that this was not the place to get injured, since we most certainly would die. The heat would cause problems, the lack of water would cause problems, and that slow, slow drive down the dirt road would certainly cause problems.

This was, of course, the place where Kevin saw and taunted the rattlesnake.

Finished with our hikes, we climbed back into the car and proceeded to drive back down the dirt road, back to the main highway. At one point, we had to pull over so a few 4WD vehicles could pass by, and I noted a strange smell in the air. But, since I'm always uncertain whether or not the smells exist, I had to question.

Amy: Do you smell that?
Kevin: Yeah.
Amy: Um, what do you think it is?
Kevin: I think it's just the tires - I came to a quick stop.
Amy: It smells like motor oil.

At the time, I was afraid that we'd lost the oil pan on the car. This was what our friend Kirk had mentioned as a hazard of rough roads, and, really, what else could it be?

We finished the drive, and pulled off the dirt road onto the highway. That sickening smell of burning motor oil greeted us again. There are few smells as wrong as that of burning oil. Nothing indicates problems the way the smell of burning motor oil does.

A few miles down the road we stopped to get gas. The stench of burning oil was undeniable, and, as the tank fueled up, I saw a suspicious liquid drip-drip-dripping just behind the rear right tire.

Amy: Um, Kevin, what's that?
Kevin: Probably just condensation from the air conditioner.
Amy: Yeah. Could you look at it?

A moment later, Kevin's brownish, oily finger was the only proof we needed that something was seriously wrong. And, a moment after that, a helpful car repairman confirmed our fears.

"You've blown out your shocks."

And, can it be repaired?

"It will take three days to get the parts."

And, is it expensive?

"Well, for a pick-up it'd be about $30 each, but for this car, I don't know."

Since we were set to rendezvous with my parents at Bryce the next day, we asked if we could drive out to Bryce the way the car was.

"Oh, sure. It might just handle a little weird."

That night was filled with trying to call the car repair center outside of Bryce Canyon, wondering if we'd be able to get our car fixed, or if it would be replaced (as the repairman had suggested it would be). We also spent some time ex-post-facto reading our rental agreement, which very clearly prohibits the off-road use of the vehicle.

At that point, I want to make it very clear that the best case scenario (in my mind) was that we would not have to purchase the 2006 HHR that we'd been driving. Sure, we'd been in the market for a new car, but more of the Prius variety.

The next morning, we drove very carefully to the car repair center near Bryce Canyon. We noticed that the car didn't exactly handle well - especially whenever Kevin would swerve/break to avoid hitting these monstrous jackrabbits that darted across the road.

The very, very helpful man at the car repair center gave us some great advice. First, he informed us that not just one, but both shocks were blown out. Next, he told us that it would just be crazy expensive if he were to collect the car and give us a replacement rental. Finally, he told us to just go to a Chevrolet dealership and have the parts replaced. "It could be $150 each," he said. "But it's cheaper than me taking the car back to Salt Lake City."

"But we're going to the Grand Canyon - can we still drive it?"

"Oh, sure, It might handle a little rough, but you won't hurt the car none."

So, with the ever-present aroma of burning oil to scent our memories, we intrepidly continued our trip. And, sure, the car didn't handle so great: sharp turns were pretty scary, as were bridges, uneven pavement, large semis passing in the opposite direction, road construction, and the threat of crossing deer and cattle. Mostly, though, the road was just always rough, as if the car were one of those popcorn-popper lawn mowers and Kevin and I were just the plastic balls inside.

And, so, perhaps we were a little relieved when we learned that the North Rim of the Grand Canyon was on fire, since it gave us an excuse to take the car to St. George, to the Steven Wade dealership, to have it fixed.

Early Tuesday morning we dropped off the car. Kevin was in charge of this (naturally! I said it was early in the morning), and the conversation apparently went something like this:

Kevin: I think we blew out the shocks.
Les Rosenvall, Steven Wade Service Manager: (Sticking his head inside the dash) Low mileage for that to happen.
**The car had approximately 5000 miles**
Kevin: Yeah. We hit some rough road.

Around 10 a.m., I received a call from Mr. Rosenvall, who asked how long we'd stay in St. George. A few days, I told him. "Good. We'll overnight some parts and fix this up tomorrow. It's not safe to drive."

Not safe to drive?!? Oh. That would explain a lot.

But, being the ostrich I am, I failed to ask how much the repairs would be. Kevin called back a moment later to get the damage.

He relayed the news to me with a smile.

"It's under warranty."

It was repaired without incident, and we were well on our way to finish our vacation. Our adventure into St. George rewarded us with plenty of hot showers, some much-needed climate control, and our introduction to the Blue Bunny Ice Cream Parlor.