Meet: Ol’ Yeller

I woke up to my alarm at 7:45, exhausted. Minji had to work breakfast, so she was back in the room at 5 am and woke me up.

“Sorry!” she said in the half lit rooom.

“Ohh it’s fine!” I said, rolling over. I felt worse for her because she couldn’t go back to sleep–she had to work. At least I was still in bed.

So at 7:45, I rolled out of bed, and grabbed my cardboard sign. I was on a misson. Today, I would go to Bozeman and buy a car. I had arranged a ride to Bozeman with Meaghan, but when I got home last night from Old Faithful, there was a note on my door saying she couldn’t drive me. So my only option was to make a sign, stick my thumb out, and hope. I had plans to meet Glenn, the owner of a 1986 Buick Century, limited edition, around noon in Bozeman. I had to get going.

I went to Personnel and borrowed a sharpie to write on the other side of my cardboard that I had used the night before to get to Old Faithful.

I walked to the main road from Lake, and began thumbbing.  Minutes later, a woman pulled over.

“I can take you to fishing bridge, but that’s all. You might have better chances there.” Fishing bridge was one mile north of here. It wasn’t much, but it was still one mile closer to Bozeman. I hopped in.

She let me out, and I walked over to a place that I thought would be a good place to get a ride. There was room for a car to pull over, and I was right at the corner, so I would be facing people coming out of Fishing Bridge, and people coming south from the other locations. I held up my sign and stuck out my thumb.

It took about 20 minutes to get the next ride. A black Nissan, pulling out of fishing bridge, came right up in front of me. I hopped in.

“I’m going to Gardiner,” he said. Great! Gardiner was halfay to Bozeman, and it was just outside of the North entrance to the park. I was grateful.

The driver’s name was John. He was a heavyset man with an unusually high voice. If I was blind, I would have been very suprised to learn that he wasn’t a female. He was very nice, and we talked the majority of the way up to Gardiner. He was delivering USA Today papers to all of the locations, so it took quite a bit longer than a straight-shot ride, but eventually, we got there.

He dropped me off at Human Resources in Gardiner. I needed to pick up a copy of my contract, so that I could prove to the Wyoming DMV that I have residence here. In order to register the car I was hoping to buy, I would need to also change over my driver’s lisence and that would require proof of residence.

So HR gave me a copy of my contract, and I walked about a mile into the town of Gardiner, to hitch a ride to Bozeman. I still had my sign. It was about 11:30 now. As I was walking down the streets of Gardiner with my thumb out, a guy on a bike rode by.

“I’d give you a ride if I could,” he joked.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, “we wouldn’t get too far on those wheels, huh?”

Another 20 minutes passed. I was starting to realize that this plan of mine was sortof grounded in a whole lot of faith. What if I couldn’t make it to Bozeman by the time Glenn, the guy with the car for sale, got off work? I was supposed to meet him at his work, a heavy machinery factory outside of Bozeman, and I was supposed to be there by noon. That obviously wasn’t going to happen. Now here I was an hour from home, trying to get another hour and a half further, without any phone or way of guarunteeing that the person I was going to meet was even going to be there. Shit. This better work.

And what if the car was worthless? A real clunker?  Then I would have to hitch back, which would be much harder than hitching there. I had been in touch with Glenn’s wife the day before, emailing back and forth 15 times, asking questions about the vehicle. She assured me that the car was a reliable ride, with no problems mechanically, whatsoever. It has 158,000 miles on it, and her husband is a mechanic who fixed it up to run like a champ. The reason they listed it at $500, is because, well, it’s ugly. She kept saying, it’s not a pretty sight, but it runs like you wouldn’t believe. So I tried to believe, as I stood there with my thumb out, hoping that this would all work out.

A red pickup pulled over, and a guy with long whiteish blonde hair moved some things aside on the front seat to give me room to sit. His name was Jim, and he had also been a park employee, about 30 years ago. He has since stayed in Gardiner. He said the only reason he picked me up was because I was facing the oncoming traffic with a smile and eye contact. He said he hates when hitchhikers don’t turn around to look at the cars they’re trying to get into. He appreciated my effort. I appreciated his ride. He was only going as far as 30 miles up the road, halfway to Livingston, which was on the way to Bozeman. He knew of a place to drop me that would be a good spot to stand and get another ride.

As we were driving, the car in front of us, probably a 1985 Subaru, waved for us to pass. He wasn’t going too fast. I had seen this car drive past me in Gardiner. I rememberd it by the heaps of black trash bags in the back seat and rear. As we passed him, Jim honked, and said that it was his friend Brian that we passed. I learned that Jim was from Newton, MA, and he was suprised to learn that I had come from Cape Cod. Small world, he said.

He dropped me at a general store in the middle of nowhere, but still on the main road. I was so hungry and thirsty, but I didn’t want to waste any time, so I just stayed on the road. The blue Subaru with the trash bags passed. A couple more cars passed, and I again began to think about the chances of me ever getting to Bozeman. Then, I saw the blue Subaru pulling into the general store. That was weird. I thought I saw him pass. He pulled up to me, and gestured for me to come. He got out and took a trash bag from the front seat to the back and stuffed it in with the others.

I got in, and was so relieved to learn that he was going to Bozeman. He said he seen me in Gardiner, but didn’t want to stop because he was embarassed of the trash bags. They were all cans, he told me. His friend in Gardiner had given them to him, and he was going to redeem them in Bozeman. He lived in Bozeman, but came down to Gardiner a lot to do random jobs. He was unemployed.

I told him that we had passed him earlier in the red truck, and I asked if his name was Brian.

“Yes! Was that Jim who passed me? Jimmy Hebert? I thought so! I’ll be damned. He probably knew I would pick you up!”

Hah. Amazing. Jim and Brian were friends from 30 years ago, when they were bus boys at the Lake Hotel. What are the chances! We talked the whole way to Bozeman about various things, including my thru-hike of the AT, which he was really amazed by. He said he always wanted to do it, and I told him he should really go for it. He was deaf in his right ear, which made conversing somewhat difficult, because there was no AC in the car and both windows were down. I got used to him cupping his left ear and saying “WHAT?” really loudly. I also learned to only say something when we were going relatively slow, or when a car wasn’t passing us or driving by us on his side because he would definatly not hear me in those cases.

He asked me where, specifically, I was going, and I pulled out the little piece of paper where I had scribbled Glenn’s wife’s directions to his work place. Brian said he knew where that was, and that he’d take me there. He just wanted to drop the cans off first. I told him not to worry, and that we could run errands, or whatever. I was in no rush, as long as I got there before 3. I figured by 3, Glenn might have lost hope that I was coming. He wanted to stop at Walmart and get a phone card so we could call Glenn and make sure, but I told him I wasn’t worried about it. We dropped off the cans, and he pointed out the route we took to get the Titan Heavy Machinery, so that I would be able to get back.
It was quite a ways out of town. We got there around 2, and I was extremely relieved. I insisted that he take $20 for taking me all the way here, and he accepted graciously. We had talked about his employment situation, and I knew $20 would go a long way for him anyways. He waited in the car while I ran in to ask for Glenn, because he wanted to make sure I wasn’t stranded.
I went in, and told the receptionsit I was looking for Glenn.

“Oh! You must be the lady interested in his old car! I’ll page him. I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

My heart began to pound. No. Please tell me he hasn’t left yet. Glenn was from Three Forks, which was another 45 minutes out of town. If he had gone home already, it would be very unlikely that I’d be able to get to him. Just then, he came through the back door, and the receptionist pointed at me. Yes!
I ran outside and waved bye to Brian, and told him I was all set. He drove off just as Glenn and I were walking out to look at the car. He didn’t even have to show me which one it was. It was by far the ugliest car in the parking lot.

“Is that it?” I asked. He nodded.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” I said. It was beautiful. At this point, all I wanted was a set of wheels to get me around, and I could hardly contain my excitement that this little old car was soon to be mine. Beauty, I guess, really is in the eye of the beholder.

He is a mechanic, and so he had a lot to tell me about the car. He is also a very friendly and personable person, and told me the reason they’re selling it is because they’re moving back to Ohio. He gave me the tour of the interior (how to pop the truck, use the radio, lights, and wipers), and then showed me the exterior, where the car was clearly beaten and battered. The front end had some serious issues, like a missing grill, and some body damage near the left turn signal.

But he showed me how everything worked: turn signals, lights, the engine, the brand new battery, the power locks and windows (except for the front passenger’s side). The only thing to watch out for is the gas guage: he told me not to trust it. He said I should fill it up after 300 miles every time just to be safe. OK. I didn’t need any convincing. I gave him $500 cash, and he gave me the signed over title and a bill of sale. He told me I could keep the plates on until I got it registered, and that his insurance had it covered until the end of the month. I had already called my insurance company and got it covered for 6 months under my policy. The 6 month premium was only $140! I thought that was the cost per month, but the GEICO rep assured me that, no, that was the total cost for 6 months of car insurance. Wyoming, he said, has twice as many cows as people. There is very little risk on the roadways. Amazing.

I shook hands with Glenn, hopped in the drivers seat, and drove away. I was amazed at how great the car drove. I honestly didn’t expect it to, but it drove like a champ. It has a V6 engine, and it has a lot of pickup, unlike most old cars. It drove so much better than the old 1985 Mercedes I used to drive.

I stopped at the Bozeman library to print proof of insurance, and a map home. Exhausted, and by this time, starving, I just wanted to get back to Lake. I was so happy I could drive there myself!  On the ride home, I saw this guy trying to hitch a ride.  I decided he looked a little too rough around the edges to pick up