Spontaneous shots of Sandi and me at Hi Cees in the Ventura Marina. The music: blues. The dance: West Coast Swing. December 15, 2007. Photo by Eric Carlson, student at Brooks Institute, who happened to walk into the room.
Soap Lake, Washington--some pictures
This town has some striking vistas. Wonder why no one has ever heard of it. 
This lake that bubbles with soapy minerals, is mostly frozen over for now.
3-minute Video, West Coast Swing
West Coast Swing Informal Workout:
Lisa Dudek and a 63-year old guy (me) giving each other a lesson, December 2005. An old boom box and old camera on a tripod.
Saga of the Silver Coyote - Nine Days from Scottsdale to Soap Lake, Revised
Thursday, December 18, 2008.
Goodbye for now, Scottsdale.
Goodbye for now, Scottsdale.
I said goodbye to the home I loved in Scottsdale about 6 PM, with all my worldly belongings that would fit into my Honda CR-V and a 4x8 U-Haul trailer. I was to make a 3-day trip to my brother’s house in Soap Lake, a village of 2,500 in central Washington State.
My sister would later remind me that that it would be best to rent a truck and haul my car on a trailer, but somehow I did not hear her, nor did I consider that possibility.
Scottsdale - Kingman - Barstow? - Las Vegas.
That night I was to stay with Vic and his girlfriend Connie in their beautiful home in Las Vegas. Never having hauled a trailer before, I tried to be cautious. Highway 93, northeast to Vegas, merged into Highway 40 and just past Kingman it split south and west leaving the path up 93 to continue north. About 100 miles past the turn off I discovered my error. The shortest way to Vegas from that point would be to continue west to Barstow, CA and then turn right—northeast toward Vegas. Stopping many times to get out into the 10-degree weather so I could keep awake, I arrived at Vic’s about noon Friday. My 328-mile first-day trip took about 600 miles.
It was great to see Vic and meet his girlfriend, an emergency room physician. And I exulted in their very comfortable guest suite.
Sunday, December 21, 2008.
Magic & Death of the Silver Coyote.
The second leg of my three-day—now 4-day—trip from Vegas to Twin Falls, Idaho was magic—white and black.
As I moved back on to 93 from interstate 15, north of Vegas, I was in unsure that the one-lane-each-way road was correct. Seeing two trucks at the side of the road, I stopped to ask for confirmation. It turned out that Ivan, one of the truckers, frequently took my exact route through Soap Lake and Arizona to Yuma. My route turned out to be an insider’s itinerary. Probably the hundreds of miles of nothing: no cell-phone towers, no towns. Google Maps and AAA provided more circuitous paths. Ivan confirmed that mine was the shortest route, but risky.
Some of the stops in the road near the eastern edge of Nevada—towns like Alamo, Hiko, Preston, Ely, and Wells were 100 or so miles apart. Ivan’s frequent experience with my route and inside info on it was comforting.
Feeling a sense of comradeship, I asked him for a card, and gave him mine.
Around 6 hours later, about 8 pm , on the totally dark 2-lane snow-slushed road a silver animal—a dog or a fox or a ?—darted in front of my car—BOOM!—at 65 mph. It was like science fiction.
Surreal.
How could an animal on a dark road with no other lights but my headlights jump into my car like that? What kind of creature was silver? It was The Twilight Zone.
I was shaken. Except for the certain death of the creature, and the jolt to my psyche, there seemed to be no damage. There was nothing I could do. It would be dangerous to stop on this narrow road in the pitch black night. There seemed to be no damage to me or the car. So I kept going.
I recalled shamanic tales of encounters with animals portending good or ill.
What does it mean to kill a silver coyote? What would a shaman say?
How do I know it was a silver coyote? It was silver! I saw it with my own eyes. I could have been hallucinating, I suppose, but I didn’t think so.
How do I know it was a coyote?
About 20 miles later I got my answer.
Shortly past Jackpot, Nevada, across the Idaho border my car sputtered and stopped. The battery was rapidly going dead, dimming the lights on my car and the trailer. I was a little freaked about the cold and the lack of visibility to other drivers on the narrow road with a 70 mph speed limit, 35 miles from my destination, the Super8 Motel in Twin Falls.
I called the Auto Club and U-haul. (Thank you God for telling me to upgrade my Triple A membership.) I’d was informed that the tow truck from Twin Falls was 90 minutes to 2 hours away.
Scary.
A pickup truck approached. The driver, the only person in the vehicle, offered to let me stay warm inside his pickup until the tow truck arrived. I got in the truck cab with a friendly, gregarious, hyper guy named Doug.
Doug told me that coyotes shed their coats and grow their winter ones about this time of the year. During the transition thier coats look silver.
After telling me he was a master mechanic, Doug dashed out into the freezing, windy night, crawled under my Honda and assessed the damage. He found that the force of the coyote’s body damaged my radiator, which must have led to overheating, and maybe more serious damage.
My cell phone was running out of battery, and the charger in my car would not work because my battery (and lights!) were already dead. Doug pulled his pick-up truck behind my trailer to provide warning lighting to traffic, while waiting for the promised tow.
While in the cab of his truck, he asked me if I believed everything happens for a reason. That launched a heartfelt and personal discussion about spiritual questions. No “Jesus loves you” stuff, but a real mutual inquiry. He also explained that he makes a small but fairly reliable income as a gambler. He was on his way to a special Keno event in Jackpot (Nevada) and he was late. But he’d stay with me until the Tow Man came.
The tow truck driver, James, was amazing. Crawling under the car with chains, connecting lights, towing the car on to the truck bed, and connecting my U-haul behind—all this in a blizzard at what seemed to be 10 below zero.
On the way in to Twin Falls James showed me pictures on his cell phone of his family and his race cars. James' pride in his work also showed, in a quiet way
I got to the Super8 Motel in Twin Falls across the street from the Honda dealer about midnight. It had dawned on me that I may have to pay the $500 deductible to retrieve my car when fixed. At this particular juncture, it felt like 5,000 dollars.
Monday would be about assessing the damages, and praying for the insurances (extra super warranty coverage from Honda, and the regular insurance) to pay all. That night I stay up composing emailing this part of my story to several friends.
I can’t imagine that the death of any animal, accident though this was, could be a good omen, but I could hope.
I did, after all, make a friend.
Monday, December 22, 2008.
U-Haul, They Haul, No Car, No Trailer 
The motel internet is not working.
My 2nd new friend James, the tow truck driver, arrived about 11 am to tow my car across the street to the Honda dealer.
A few hours later Pablo, the Honda service manager, informed me that my warranty would cover nothing. I needed to contact my insurance company.
With the holidays, and insurance estimates, and the involvement of both body shop and regular mechanical repairs, my car would be at the dealer’s for weeks. This meant that I would have to get a truck, empty the contents of the trailer and my car into it, leave my car, and drive the big truck 550 miles way Soap Lake.
How will I get the trailer and car unloaded in a snow storm? Two maintenance people in the motel offered to help me unload. Then Pablo the Honda service man, offered to help me get the trailer into their garage to warm it up and give me cover to unload. They would leave it there with my car until I could get a truck.
Pablo and the two Vietnamese maintenance men and I dislodged the trailer from the ice it was embedded in, and hitched it on the Middlekauf Honda's pickup truck.
Then I looked for the most convenient u-haul place, and arranged to get a truck on Wednesday.
Still no internet at the motel.
I found the closest u-haul place, and arranged to get a truck on Wednesday.
Still no internet at the motel.
Tuesday, December 23.
Wreck Reckoning
Still no internet at the motel.
The car frame supporting the radiator needs to be replaced in the body shop, before the regular repair shop can replace the radiator. Then test for further damage. According to the Service Department, my Honda is set up to shut down when over-heated before greater damage is incurred. Whew! (but not really, I later found)
I got the U-Haul truck, and drove it to the dealer. Backing up to the big bay door it got stuck in the snow. We backed the trailer, now thawed out to the entry way just inside the garage. From there I loaded the truck. Then Pablo hitched the trailer to the Dealer pickup to take it to the U-Haul location. I still had stuff in the car to off-load to the truck, but it was dark and too cold to finish that night.
Doug, my rescuer from Sunday night, stopped by to help after seeing his doctor to discuss plans for his 29th operation related to rheumatoid arthritis. He’s had it since he was 8. But, he tells me, he is also blessed with a diagnosis of "accelerated metabolism", and he has an extremely high tolerance for pain.
Wednesday, Christmas Eve, 2008
Slow loading and lousy weather.
One of the guys at the Honda dealer’s pulls my U-Haul truck out of the snow with his truck and a strap.
Hoping to leave on Christmas day, I finish loading the truck with the stuff from my car. Working by myself with the truck outside in the 20-degree weather, snow falling, I take more hours than I expected to organize and tie down all my stuff in the truck.
At 5 the other service manager, Jim, tells me that I’d be crazy to try my trip before Saturday—road closures, icy roads, and worse weather to come.
Still no internet at the motel.
I call Doug and we agree to meet for breakfast at iHop Christmas morning, then I’d drive out of town.
That night (Christmas Eve) I meet a trucker at the motel. Darrin says he had arrived a few days ago from where I was planning to go along highway 82. Darrin got stuck for a few days because of weather. He says it’s getting worse along 82, and the first day it would be reasonable to leave would be Saturday.
The motel bill keeps rising. And still no internet.
My friend Shirley (in Eau Claire, Wisconsin) and I talk several times on the phone about the weather. She scours the internet for info as we try to figure a safe time for me to resume the trip. I've never driven any vehicle in snow before this trip, certainly not a truck. I pay very careful attention to Shirley's and take lots of notes.
Thursday, Christmas Day, 2008
Amazing Benefactor. Double iHop.
Doug picks me up at the motel and we go to iHop. The 40-mile trip from his home took almost 2 hours because of the snow and ice. He saw 5 cars stuck in the snow. He uses a cane. He insists on treating. I learn that Doug lives on Social Security Disability, due to his rheumatoid arthritis.
This is the guy that jumped out of his warm truck in a blizzard to crawl under my car!
It must be his high metabolism and ultra-high hyperactivity, as well as his tremendous desire to be helpful. We did not get together Christmas Eve because he was wrapping 59 presents he would personally deliver—anonymously—to an assisted living facility.
Doug & I were together at iHop about 2 hours. About 50, he’s tells me that focusing on helping others keeps his mind off his own troubles. Feeling sorry for himself would just make his disability worse. I am moved and inspired by his generosity.
To Leave or Not to Leave
Later, on the phone with Shirley, I decide to hit the road on Friday, aim for only a few hundred miles, and stop in Boise or maybe Nampa Oregon. I reserve a room in Boise.
That night I return to iHop in my truck to feast on the half-price omlette special.
Friday, December 26, 2008
12 hours to Soap Lake.
I leave Twin Falls about 11 am. About an hour out there’s little traffic on the highway. I’m sick from the iHop omlette. I stop at Mountain Home, Idaho. Desolate unpopulated country except for for the truck stop, and a Wal-Mart Super Store on other side of the highway. I cannot imagine where they came from but the Wal-Mart is packed!
One of the Mysteries of The Universe.
I go in to buy some baking soda for my pained stomach. Highway 84, two lanes each way, endlessly caked with ice, except for a narrow strip in one of the lanes most of the time.
U-haul does not supply CD players in their trucks. I’m absorbed by the road and listening to Ken Wapnick’s all-day workshop, “The Metaphysics of Time” on my ipod. Thank Providence for iPods.
Despite winding mountain roads expected in Oregon, I decide to try to save room rent and go the distance.
Another amazing event: It's dark, and I stop in Pendleton, Oregon for gas. A guy in his late teens comes out of the warm and fills my tank. Without me asking. It gets better: he then proceeds to clean my icy dirty windshield. NO CHARGE!
About midnight, nine days after I started, I arrive at Bruce's house in Soap Lake.
Life with Bruce in Soap Lake
Update to the Silver Coyote Saga– Help from Ivan
How was I to get back to Twin Falls, over 500 miles to pick up my car? I called Ivan, the trucker I met on Highway 93 near Las Vegas. He’ll let me hitch a ride with him on one of his frequent trips through Soap Lake and Twin Falls.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008.
Ride on the GTA Green Bus to Wenatchee.
I discover the GTA Green Bus. Tuesday I call and they add me as an extra rider to Wenatchee, 50 miles or so away, the closest car rental place that has a deal with my insurance company.
My brother Bruce (14 months my junior) will drive me the 15 minutes to meet the bus in Ephrata in the morning. Bruce lives pretty much as a recluse these days. Yet he’s an amazingly gregarious man when he’s out, He warmly chides, jokes with and/or hits on just about everyone he sees. He hit on the 50-ish overweight waitress at Don’s Restaurant where he took us to dinner on a gift certificate. With the check-out person at the Wal-Mart Super Store in Ephrata, where he also serially engaged various males in joking conversation. Hetero, he only hits on the females. He does it without regard to age or physical condition, and seems to know the specific limits of outrageousness with each individual.
Everybody seems to enjoy it. Even his 79-year-old dynamo ex-girlfriend who is openly disgusted with how Bruce has let himself go, ends up smiling and laughing with him without derision.
Bruce gets dressed on Tuesdays and Fridays to go out to the post office (there’s no home mail service in Soap Lake). On Tuesdays he also goes to Rite Aid to pick up two (or three?) gallons of milk on the senior discount. Living at the other end of the house he has his bedroom TV running 24 hours a day. Mostly sports. “TV is my life”. He takes all his meals in his room on a TV tray. He sleeps with the TV on. Most phone calls answered start with who’s playing and what’s the score.
I get on the bus in Ephrata. The driver has my name and asks the address to which she should deliver me. There are 8 other people on the bus which could seat about 20—all going to Wenatchee for medical services not available in Soap Lake/Ephrata/Moses Lake. We all talk. People ask me about what the weather is like in Scottsdale. The driver is playing country music on the radio. When an old classic comes on, she asks us all who made that song famous—she could not remember. She is not familiar with my destination so I call the Enterprise Rent-a-Car, give her my cell phone and they give her directions.
She gets me there at 9:50 AM.
Wenatchee is a picturesque Bavarian-Village-like town. I was too preoccupied getting lost to get pictures. But here's a picture of the car I rented the next day, January 1.
I discover the GTA Green Bus. Tuesday I call and they add me as an extra rider to Wenatchee, 50 miles or so away, the closest car rental place that has a deal with my insurance company.
My brother Bruce (14 months my junior) will drive me the 15 minutes to meet the bus in Ephrata in the morning. Bruce lives pretty much as a recluse these days. Yet he’s an amazingly gregarious man when he’s out, He warmly chides, jokes with and/or hits on just about everyone he sees. He hit on the 50-ish overweight waitress at Don’s Restaurant where he took us to dinner on a gift certificate. With the check-out person at the Wal-Mart Super Store in Ephrata, where he also serially engaged various males in joking conversation. Hetero, he only hits on the females. He does it without regard to age or physical condition, and seems to know the specific limits of outrageousness with each individual.
Everybody seems to enjoy it. Even his 79-year-old dynamo ex-girlfriend who is openly disgusted with how Bruce has let himself go, ends up smiling and laughing with him without derision.
Bruce gets dressed on Tuesdays and Fridays to go out to the post office (there’s no home mail service in Soap Lake). On Tuesdays he also goes to Rite Aid to pick up two (or three?) gallons of milk on the senior discount. Living at the other end of the house he has his bedroom TV running 24 hours a day. Mostly sports. “TV is my life”. He takes all his meals in his room on a TV tray. He sleeps with the TV on. Most phone calls answered start with who’s playing and what’s the score.
I get on the bus in Ephrata. The driver has my name and asks the address to which she should deliver me. There are 8 other people on the bus which could seat about 20—all going to Wenatchee for medical services not available in Soap Lake/Ephrata/Moses Lake. We all talk. People ask me about what the weather is like in Scottsdale. The driver is playing country music on the radio. When an old classic comes on, she asks us all who made that song famous—she could not remember. She is not familiar with my destination so I call the Enterprise Rent-a-Car, give her my cell phone and they give her directions.
She gets me there at 9:50 AM.
Wenatchee is a picturesque Bavarian-Village-like town. I was too preoccupied getting lost to get pictures. But here's a picture of the car I rented the next day, January 1.
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