Of all the decisions she and I made in our lives together, one was to modify our pick up truck. We had a Toyota pickup we bought the year we were married, 1984. The summer of 1993 we "upgraded" the engine to a high performance V-6 engine, complete with headers, a high-rise intake manifold, and a four-barrel carburetor. This truck had been a part of our lives together as we traveled across the United States from Las Vegas, NV. to Pittsburgh, PA., and from Kaiserslautern Germany to all parts of Europe. This was our first long trip since we had modified the engine. From when we did the work until this night there had been a lot of struggles we went through together. Numerous deaths in our families, moving not just once, but several times over the last year. This trip was to take a hand made marker to California for her Grandmother's gravesite. Normally we travel with a "kit" insert in our truck, it made into a bed, somewhat comfortable to sleep the two of us and our two dachshunds. This trip, we didn't have it along, needing the space for other things we knew we were going to be taking back to Texas.

Our standard traveling up to this time was to get in the truck, fill the tank and take turns driving. This was no different, we'd been over this part of New Mexico many times and even knew our stops for gas. Around three in the morning I made a stop, just east of Continental Divide, New Mexico for gas and to check oil. The oil in the engine was cold though we'd been driving for hours. I figured it was due to the time of day and my being tired from driving, not sleepy, just tired. This was our midway stop for the trip, about 400 miles from home and 400 miles from Bullhead City. I got back in the truck. Vanessa and our two pets were wrapped up in a blanket, just to be comfortable, I kept the truck warm inside. We pulled back onto the highway headed west.

About two miles from the gas stop, I was back at highway speed settling into the drive. Estimating we'd be in Bullhead around mid morning. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the area under the hood flashed a dull orange, like a fire you could see through the cracks of a door. The acceleration was abruptly stopped and we began to slow down. I was in the passing lane and shifted to neutral to coast, until I found out what had happened. I pulled to the right and we coasted to a stop.

I grabbed a flashlight and got out to see what had happened. Above a big puddle of oil, I could see a hole in the engine block as big as my fist. I looked in all directions to see where we might get help. Small lights were around but they all looked a long way off. The stop we had just made was the best option, but it was early so we decided to get some rest and look at our options after sun-up. We just happened to be in the part of New Mexico where the freight train tracks are less than 100 yards from this part of the interstate. For the next three hours we listened, were disturbed, by trains passing in the night. I like trains, always have, but these were a nuisance. I'd no sooner get comfortable, when another would go pass. Vanessa and our pets curled up in blankets in the front seat, I crawled into the back for legroom. Around sunrise, we were awake and decide our best option was to go back to the last stop and call for assistance. Vanessa's family had traveled this part of New Mexico for years and we decided we try to get assistance from Grant's New Mexico, like her grandmother had once before in the 60s or 70s. I headed for the phone, two miles away along the interstate. I no sooner started walking when a truck stopped and offered me a ride back to the last stop. It was a man and his boys in a truck with a slide in camper. I accepted the ride. Once at the filling station, I called and was told they'd send a truck out in the next couple hours. I told them where we were and they knew the location, so I went back to where Vanessa was with the truck to tell her the latest. A few hours passed, no assistance. We saw police cruisers go by on the other side. Then we decide the help wasn't coming and I needed to go make another call. Off I went. Walking along the interstate again not too far, a car stopped on one of those side roads that ran along the railroad tracks and the driver yelled at me to see if I needed a ride. I tried to say "No, thanks" twice, but the driver couldn't hear me so I walked through the brush to tell them. It was elderly lady. She told me that hitchhikers were not allowed on this stretch of highway due to a prison being in the area. I climbed the fence and accepted her ride back to the filling station. The guy told me there had been an accident and it would be afternoon before anyone would be out to help us.

I jogged back to the truck along the interstate. Again, we considered our options. By now Vanessa was pretty frustrated, not only weren't we getting where we were going, but she had to relieve her bladder, and unlike other places, the New Mexico desert offered no place to gain privacy. We improvised and were soon leaning against the truck deciding our options. Vanessa looked at me and said, "Let's push the truck." I looked and, this was my area in most conversations, the next exit was about two miles and it was all up hill. I tried to relay this crucial information and that it would be impractical to do this. She said, "Look, I'm frustrated, tired, and getting really stressed. Let's push the truck a little ways just to make me feel better." I agreed, so we set everything up to "Push our truck", uphill two miles to the next exit, and hopefully help.

We got it rolling and had gone about 15 yards, when a Chevrolet pick up pulled in and stopped. The driver was on his way home from work. His boss let him go home early because he didn't feel well, he was a carpenter. He offered to tow us to his house where we could leave the truck and arrange for transportation in nearby Gallup. Vanessa and I looked at each other and agreed to accept his offer, but only to the next exit. I had a cargo strap in my truck and we hooked it up. It was almost 12 feet from the back of his truck to the front of ours. We got to the next exit, and he told us there was nothing here to help us and he would be glad to take us to his place, about 15 miles away in Continental Divide, New Mexico. We seemed to have no options left, so we conceded to accept. Away we went, 12 feet apart down the interstate passing traffic while being towed at around 60 miles per hour. Our truck had power brakes, well, without the engine running that mean the brakes didn't work too well, so I used the emergency brake to keep the strap tight, as if at 60 MPH that was a problem.

We arrived at his house and were relieved that our 60 MPH thrill ride was over. There was a junkyard and a few houses at this exit, an abandoned gas station, and a Stuckey's. He welcomed us into his home and let us place several long distance calls, one to Bullhead City so folks wouldn't worry. One to a rental car place, who just coincidentally had a car turned in for us to rent. I asked if they could send someone to give us a ride to their business. When they asked where we were they declined. Now what? The man, who had given us so much help already, offered us a ride into Gallup. Off we went to town, another twenty miles closer to our destination. Finally we arrived in Bullhead City, late that day. The next day we decided to go back and replace the engine. We called several places and there were no engines. One place found a single engine and could get it from Phoenix overnight, but we needed to come in and pay for it in advance before they'd order it, so we did. My father-in-law and I did the engine modification so we knew what we needed and we spent the day putting things together for the trip. In their little motor home we packed tools and foodstuff for about three days. On the front was an electric generator and on the back was a small trailer with an engine hoist and room for the new engine in a crate. My father-in-law has always been really good mechanically. He hand-built the engine hoist and the small trailer. We got it all tied down about 5 PM that day and decided to leave early the next morning to travel out to where the truck was waiting.

We worked through the next day getting the old engine out and getting the new engine ready to install. Afternoon the second day we were ready to start the new engine. It started off right way, with some minor adjustments we were ready to resume our trip and did early the next morning.

Events that enabled us to afford this were by God's hand, the "coincidence" of a carpenter who was released from work who "happened" to come by as we were pushing the truck. Vanessa's recommendation to push the truck uphill two miles, the 60 MPH tow for about 20 miles, the rental car availability, and one engine being available in Phoenix all at the same time we needed it---coincidence? Not to mention the money to cover our expenses came from a car we tried to sell for 6 months, that we sold two days before the trip. Coincidence? Not a chance. A well planned and orchestrated plan by "The Master" to prevent his children's suffering. What a mighty God we serve, what a mighty God indeed.