A last minute decision to join my daughter-in-law Michele (“Goosie” to friends and family) led to a trip far more adventurous than expected last week.
The 1,450-mile trip happened because my sister Rhodelle and her husband J.R. in Missouri found the perfect puppy for Goosie and my son Ben. They had lost their Australian cattle dog, a blue heeler, Hooly, last summer.
Everyone who knew the friendly “shop dog” at Benny’s Collision Center in Grand Marais was heartbroken. Hooly was one of a kind and will always be missed.
But after a few months, Ben’s family decided they needed a dog around the house. Five-year-old Carter especially wanted a puppy. He said his dad could take the puppy to work with him, but the puppy would really be his.
Who can resist a five-yearold’s reasoning?
So they asked Rhodelle and J.R., who had found Hooly, to look for another heeler. And they started talking about names appropriate for the mascot at a body shop—Dinger? Painter? Crash? Bondo? They finally decided on the unusual name, Damage.
After months of searching, we got the word. Rhodelle and J.R. had found a puppy that was ready to go a few days before Christmas. They had found Damage!
Goosie found a friend who was willing to make the trip, but the plans fell through and she couldn’t make it. No one else was available, so I volunteered. It’ll be fun, I thought, a road trip.
Well our road trip was almost over before it began. We loaded up my car because it is smaller and would get better gas mileage. We took off from my house and only made it about three miles down the road before a deer jumped out in front of my car, causing major damage.
Perhaps we should have considered postponing the trip at that point. Bad weather was predicted in Iowa, but no, we decided to venture on.
We transferred our belongings and the dog kennel to Goosie’s car and set off again. Things went well for a while. We made it down the shore and through Duluth. We were a few miles past the Carlton turnoff when disaster struck again. The front driver’s side tire blew out, sending us skidding into the other lane. Goosie did a fabulous job keeping us on the road and getting the car under control.
We spent about an hour struggling to get the jack to work to lift the car high enough to get the spare tire on. Or rather, Goosie did. I held the flashlight.
We finally had to call a tow truck and eat the damage to our wallets. We saw the wisdom then of stopping soon and we spent the night in Hinckley, setting out bright and early the next morning with two new tires on the front of Goosie’s car and the assurance that our back tires were in good shape.
We didn’t travel far before we hit the bad weather predicted and as we got further into Iowa, the roads got worse and worse, with cars in the ditch on the right and the left. We counted nearly 100 vehicles in the ditch.
Again, Goosie did a great job keeping the car on the road. Traveling at 30 – 40 mph, it took us forever to get to southern Iowa, but we finally did. The road eventually cleared and we were happily back on track. Goosie sped up to interstate speed and we were making good time—until the car started making a strange noise. It couldn’t be another flat tire— could it? It was.
We again struggled with the jack—or Goosie struggled and I watched helplessly. I began waving at trucks for help, hoping one would stop with a functioning jack. An Iowa State Trooper finally pulled up behind us and called a service truck. After a bit more damage to our wallets, we were back on the road, but with no spare.
We had to find a tire place to get a spare, but after 5 p.m. on the Friday before Christmas. We didn’t think we had a chance. However, we stopped at a tiny convenience store where the exceedingly helpful young lady called around and found a garage that would stay open until we got there. Bart’s Tire Repair got us fixed up with very minimal damage to our almostempty wallets and we were once again on our way, praying that bad things come in threes.
We rolled up to my sister’s house about 1 a.m., exhausted and just wanting to sleep a bit. But then we saw Damage, the adorable little Australian cattle dog, waiting for us. It was all worth it.
We got a few hours of sleep and visited for a little bit with Rhodelle, J.R. and my nephew, Jacob. Then it was reluctant goodbyes and we were on the road again.
This time however, there was no damage. Only the little dog howling in his kennel once in a while to be let out or petted or fed. On the way home our Damage was all good. Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
Roger Caras
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