Dead Armadillos
We aren't in Michigan anymore.
“I think you have a bad compressor,” Pee Wee said, as he peeked out from under the hood of my Subaru Forester. My heart sank. My brother told me this was a possibility yesterday. “There’s plenty of coolant, and the power to the compressor is working,” Shawn, who was also poking around under the hood nodded in agreement. “I can’t do anything about that today. I’m sorry,” Pee Wee said.
“I know,” I said. “Thank you for checking. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” Pee Wee said as he shut the hood. Shawn shook his head from side to side. They were like the Penn and Teller of Equivel’s Auto Repair in Texarkana, TX.
“Thank you,” I said. “I better get on the road.” The promise of another 90-plus-degree day was evident at 8 am.
“Good luck,” Pee Wee said and waved, living up to his great Google reviews. Shawn nodded.
“Have a great day,” I said as I got in the car, turning to Koda. “It’s going to be another hot one.” He looked at me, as silent as Shawn.
We left Grosse Pointe, MI two days earlier, stopping in Marion, IL on night one. Everything was going well at that point. I watched vegetation, temperatures, and roadkill change as we made our way south and west through Ohio, Indiana, Missouri, and at the tip of Illinois. Early spring gave way to what felt and looked like full-blown summer compared to what I had become used to in Northern Michigan. Dead deer gave way to dead armadillos. I didn’t know they were so far north and was shocked to see them hours before seeing a Waffle House.
On the morning of day two, storms started moving east and north, covering our path from the day before. I breathed a sigh of relief as I sipped my coffee and watched the Weather Channel in the lobby of the Marion Holiday Inn Express.
Day two’s destination was Texarkana. That would leave an easy day three of driving, putting us in Austin and at the Airbnb right at check-in time.
About halfway through the day’s drive, I stopped for gas in Poplar Bluff, AR at the Munch -N- Pump. I didn’t want to, on principle alone, but if you have ever driven through Arkansas, you know that gas stations are few and far between, so even if your car’s tank is half full and or you maybe/sorta need to pee, stopping is a good idea. When I came out of the bathroom at the Munch -N- Pump, I was confronted with a rack of t-shirts declaring “I am a Master Baiter,” confirming my suspicion that this entire outfit was run by pre-teen boys.
Our Arkansas sojourn took us through Corning, where one building offered TATTOOS, PIERCING, FAX, NOTARY. I’m sure there’s a good story there.
The temperature outside kept climbing and hovered around 90 by one o’clock in the afternoon. That’s when I noticed the AC was blowing hot air. I fiddled with the dials, turned it on and off, and realized that it was indeed hot air blowing on Koda and me, and nothing I was doing could change that.
We had almost 3 hours left before hitting Texarkana, and the day wasn’t getting any cooler. I rolled down the windows and hoped for the best. It wasn’t good. Koda was pathetic, panting and looking at me like I was deliberately making him feel like his insides were cooking. We stopped for water and breaks, yet I wanted to get to Texarkana, into an air-conditioned hotel room, and start problem-solving this AC situation ASAP. There’s a fine line.
By the time we checked into the Bayview Hotel on the Arkansas side of Texarkana, my face was the color of Rao’s Vodka Sauce, my hair looked like a Medusa wig, and I was cranky as shit. And to think I was yearning to be warm just three weeks earlier as winter was hanging on a little too long in Michigan.
After a series of missteps and miscommunications with Lin at O’Reilly’s Auto Parts, a recommendation from Dane at Auto Zone, and desperate calls to my brother (who knows a thing or two about automotive air conditioners and did a quick search for local mechanics), I put a call into Esquivel’s Auto Repair about 6:30 that night. I was surprised to get someone on the phone.
“Bring it by tomorrow morning. I’ll see what I can do,” said the man on the other end of the phone, who was, it turned out, Pee Wee.
As luck would have it, on my drive to Austin, I got a message from my Airbnb host the house would be ready about an hour before our scheduled check-in time. Thank goodness! Cloud cover kept the drive semi-pleasant until the last two hours when the heat and the crushing sound of passing semi-trucks were a massive attack on my senses. When we arrived, after I got Koda some fresh water, I lay on the cool wood floors and gave thanks for AC. I cried, too. More on that later.
Turns out, I have landed in a place far, far away from Grosse Pointe. Our every-bit-as-charming-as-the-Airbnb-write-up-promises bungalow and home until mid-June is in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Austin. The neighborhood is filled with little houses in various states of updates and renovations. Some have been torn down to make way for something bigger and sleeker. Some have retained their historic charm. The yards are urban jungles, bursting with nandina, bougainvillea, lantana, ivy, bird of paradise. Palm trees grow next to pecan and oak trees. Prickly pear cacti and agave abut lush rose bushes and sunflowers emerging from cracks in the pavement. It’s a crazy mash-up of vegetation from my first home, Scottsdale, AZ, and my latest home, Gaylord, MI, and everything in between.
Sidewalks start and stop without a pattern or warning. Blue bottle sculptures, St. Francis sculptures, water features, whimsical metal art, and mosaic creations are everywhere. And on at least every other block, an old Ford or Chevy truck that could be driven by Keanu Reeves or Ryan Gosling in a Rom Com sits idle. This neighborhood is bursting with activity and construction, and every time Koda and I go out for a walk, our senses are treated to a feast.
“Why Austin?” is a question I get when I share where I’m going. The short answer is that my dear friend Caroline is marrying her beloved Amy on May 18, and I am co-officiating the wedding. It seemed like as good a place as any to land for a little while and experience something different.
The long answer is, well, longer. Stay tuned for more on that…