Divermarv

In the mid to late 80s I was in the Navy, and was stationed in southeastern Idaho. Yes, strange. I know. I was in the nuclear Navy; the sailors who ran the nuclear reactor and engine rooms of the ships. I had finished my tour on the submarine, USS Phoenix SSN-702, and was stationed at the Idaho National Engineering Laboratory at the Naval Reactors Facility. Whew. That’s a lot of capitalized names. And I’m not done! Specifically I was at the A1W installation, which was a power plant that the original USS Enterprise, the aircraft carrier, used. This was my last tour in the Navy. I was discharged in March of 88.

While in Idaho I had many grand adventures. I did all the things. Whitewater rafting, Skiing (Alpine and Nordic), hiking, backpacking, horse backing, all of it. And loved it. For reasons, Tennessee beckoned as I approached the end of my enlistment. So… after exiting the Navy, I drove home.

I am currently on a loop, south to north, of the west, and am now in Wyoming. Cheyenne to be exact. Which is at the intersection of I-80 and I-25. In March of 1988 a fierce blizzard moved eastward across Idaho and Wyoming. I had stayed with some friends before leaving Idaho, but was antsy to get to Tennessee, and only waited a couple of days after the blizzard moved through Idaho. This is the story of that drive home.

I suppose one important element to share is the car I was driving. This beauty right here. And also I was alone. Both driver and navigator.

1956 Chevrolet station wagon. 4 door, not a Nomad. This was a modified car, it had a 327 engine and a two-speed powerglide transmission. This car was in great shape, even the AM radio worked like a charm. And the radio was a tube type, the original. You’d turn it on and it took a few minutes for the tubes to warm up before it would work.

I headed out of Idaho Falls, and went south on I-15. Just south of Pocatello I took a a side road to shave off a few miles. Yeah I know. Blizzard still on the ground, heading into the direction of the blizzard, not exactly the smartest of moves. But hey… life is an adventure.

Somewhere between Montpelier and Kemmerer I entered the area of effect of the blizzard, and the wind was blowing westward. A strong wind. A very strong wind. How strong I hear the internet asking… glad you asked! The wind was so strong it was gusting through every little crevice of the driver’s side of the car’s windows. I could feel it caressing the side of my face with a chill touch. I was nervous, but this car weighed a ton, and clung to the road fiercely. Even with this weight and all, the gusts would nudge the car from time to time. To take the edge off I turned on that radio. You know… the one that had to warm up. It did, and I twisted the tuning knob with shaking fingers. Finally I struck gold. Golden oldies to be exact. A station playing ’50s music. It was cool, driving a car from the 50s, listening to 50s music.

But you see, at the time I had been on a Stephen King reading kick. About fifteen minutes of this and invasive thoughts started seeping in. What if… No! That’s not possible. Get real Marv. But… what if?! My hand shot to the tuning knob again and I slowly scanned the AM band. Nothing. Moving it back, my heart leapt as I started to hear something. Great Balls o’ Fire! Good god. Reason and a trust in reality barely kept me from making a mess in my pants. I was kind of afraid to turn off the radio, so I kept it on. Hope springs eternal and all that. I thought at any moment the DJ would come on and tell me that the 50s hour was over and we’d now be hearing some Dire Straits. Yet, I feared the DJ may also interrupt and address me directly. “Hi Marv. Welcome home…” Gulp!

But of course that didn’t happen. Eventually I saw a sign saying I-80 so many miles. I felt silly. And relieved.

Now did I mention that this secondary road was fully covered with snow? Well it was. But typical of the area it was packed snow. With lots of (thankfully) small drifts and blowing snow with the wind. Also thankfully I came to the intersection with I-80. But guess what. it was packed with snow and trucks. I got on the highway and just kept the car moving. Signs were posted saying I-80 closed at Rock Springs. Surely not. Nope. Surely.

The interstate indeed was closed at Rock Springs. I pulled off and got a hotel, thankfully. I got to enjoy Rock Springs for two lovely snowy days. There was also a bar across the street, which kept me a little sane. And fed. And liquified. Late the second day a rumor was going around the bar/restaurant that the interstate was opening to Laramie, and maybe all the way to Cheyenne. Remember that hope and eternal springing? This time it worked. Partially.

The interstate was open to Laramie, and I was hoping it would be open to Cheyenne, but it wasn’t. So another night in Wyoming. Lovely Wyoming. I was wanting to get home, but this still felt a little like an adventure.

The next morning the interstate was indeed open to Cheyenne, so I packed the old steed and took off. Cheyenne appearing on the horizon was a sight for tired eyes.

Remember that this was the 80s. No Google Maps, no MapQuest even. This was Rand McNally paper maps. I had studied my route at the hotel and decided to avoid I-80 through Nebraska, so in Cheyenne I cut down on I-25 to Denver and took I-70 over through Kansas. I am home free now I thought. Somewhere in the world of Stephen King that 50s DJ was laughing.

I was a little over halfway through the exciting state of Kansas when I heard the highway start to sing. And it was off key. Feeling the steering wheel start to vibrate I knew something was wrong. And it felt familiar. I had had a problem with this car. The front left wheel bearing assembly apparently was faulty. That had caused the wheel bearing to wear out before. I knew what this was. So I pulled off the road and stuck my thumb out. Someone picked me up and dropped me off in Salina. There I found a shop that could work on my car. They even arranged for a tow truck to go pick up my car — with me going along of course.

Now a 1956 Chevrolet station wagon was not that common on the road in the 80s. I had to wait for a wheel bearing to be ordered and arrive. There I was. Kansas and staying another night in a hotel. They got the part surprisingly fast, and I was back on the road in a couple of days. But by now this was just getting out of hand. I wanted to get back to the holler, the place of my birth. I drove from Salina to Knoxville Tennessee in one drive.

This was a long haul. I don’t recall how long it took me, but it was over twenty-four hours. Navigating Kansas City, St. Louis, and Nashville with paper maps was tough. Especially since I was hallucinating by the time I hit Nashville. And not in the fun way.

Yet I made it. I rolled up in the holler one tired fella. You know how you feel when you haven’t slept in a while like that. Almost like you’re vibrating. It took a bit, but I settled down.

Hey it’s good to be back home again.

And now it’s good to be back at the intersection of my salvation. It’s been long enough that now it’s a pleasant memory.

Tomorrow will be a little sightseeing in Cheyenne and then onward to Devils Tower!

Peace and love everyone. Marv