Column: Not the engine light

Sometimes my weeks are a lot like the movie "Groundhog Day", so I was really excited for the Thanksgiving Holiday. I was planning to travel to Wyoming last Wednesday after the paper was finished, and I was eager and ready to visit friends, family, and pets.

Things were moving along smoothly Wednesday morning when I got a call from Melissa, who had traveled to Anaconda to pick up the newspaper from the printer. She informed me the check engine light had come on and the car was making a horrific noise. Great, of all the days this could happen, it had to be the day we were going to be making a seven plus hour trip.

I was worried about her making the trip over Homestake Pass, and knew at that moment we most likely would not be going. She was able to make it home, but we were still faced with the problem of the light and the noise that I would soon learn sounded like a bird chirping through the speakers at a football stadium. It was loud.

We informed people in Wyoming we most likely would not be coming, but would try to get the car looked at. Thankfully, Tony at Full Circle was able to squeeze us in and the mechanic at the shop was able to diagnose the problem. I'd like to go into detail about what he told me, but I know as much as cars as I do about ballroom dancing, which is zero.

Long story short, the car needs to be fixed, but it was not a problem that prevented us from going to Wyoming. It would just be loud at times.

Around 5 p.m., we went home and quickly got packed. Turns out that is not the best idea for me. I forgot to pack socks, underwear, a belt, deodorant, toothpaste and a nice shirt to wear for Thanksgiving.

Until last Wednesday, we hadn't seen much snow if any in Whitehall, but the moment we left at 6 p.m. and hit Highway 2, we managed to run into a blizzard. This was perfect timing. This was already stressful enough, the snow just made it worse.

I made the decision that we would go halfway, and would also travel a longer route, but one that should see less bad weather.

The roads were not great, but we made our way into Pocatello, ID late Wednesday night. I found a room at a Ramada Inn for the amazing deal of 45 bucks. This was an super duper deal that really helped after the unexpected expense of getting the car into the shop. I didn't think twice of staying at a Ramada Inn. It's a nationally known chain. It's not the Trump Plaza Hotel, but it wouldn't be some sort of roadside dump where I would get eaten alive by bed bugs. Boy, was I wrong.

I walked into the lobby and the music was so loud from the bar that I could not hear myself think. It was some horrible 80's music that made me cringe a little inside. I approached the counter and the front desk worker was not in her right mind. I'm not sure if she was not all there, or possibly on meth, but something was not right. I understood about every fourth word she said and started to step away from the counter when she told me about how her cold had her feeling the worst she had in her life. Maybe she was just on cold medicine? When I was signing my name on the check in form, she proceeded to sneeze. She did so without covering her mouth. I was covered with what came out. I was not happy, but too scared of her and the lobby to voice displeasure. We walked into the hallway to find our room and it was a place that time forgot. I'm sure the hotel had at once been nice, but it was awful. You could see the dirt on the carpet where there weren't holes. I walked into the room and it was horrific. It smelled, it was dirty as can be, and I felt like I was walking into a drug deal.

Even our cat Peaches was not happy about the accommodations. Melissa was afraid to get into the shower because it was that filthy. No wonder this room was only $45. It made Motel 6 look like the Taj Mahal.

We woke up at 6 a.m. and got out of there as quick as we could.

We would find out a couple hours later that taking the "safe" route was a bad idea. A fierce storm had hit near Kemmerer, WY, and in our hurry we had forgot to fill up our windshield fluid. It was a scary few moments trying to get to a truck stop with every passerby spraying us with a dirty sludge.

We finally made it to Interstate 80 and Sweetwater County, Wyoming and it was a comfortable feeling. That was until I was quickly reminded that in my home County people with the biggest trucks drive like the biggest jerks. The Interstate was a mess of slush and ice and the jerks would pass us and quickly get back into the driving lane and sending stuff all over us. They could have waited a few extra seconds because of the conditions, but this is Wyoming and big trucks don't do that. At one point we almost crashed off the side of the road, but eventually made it home safe.

We were with friends and family and that's what it's all about.

It was a journey, but the juice was worth the squeeze.