Along the 2,100-mile Appalachian Trail, long distance hikers call them “trail angels” - those kindhearted souls who appear out of nowhere and offer trekkers a ride to the nearest town, or fresh baked cookies, or the use of their home shower.
The best memories from my Appalachian Trail hike involve the trail angels who greeted me at road crossings or trail intersections at the exact moment
when I needed someone the most - when I was sick, hungry, lonely, lost. You never forget the people who help you on your journey.
Trail angels can be found on all types of trails - from single-track dirt to two-lane pavement.
The sound of shredding metal is an excruciating sound, especially when it comes from the area near your front right tire as you drive down a remote road in Minnesota.
“That sounded really, really bad...” I said to my friend in shotgun.
“We lost something big and metal,” my friend added.
“I imagine it was probably important too,” I said, turning my 1986 Toyota Escaper RV (named Taterbug) into a gravel farm drive.
Last Friday when I left my parents’ home in Indianapolis for my home in Martinsdale, I knew taking Taterbug on an 1800-mile maiden voyage was destined to be an adventure.
Some friends and I spent the last month gutting and rebuilding the inside of Taterbug to my exact tastes and needs.
I am so proud of my new little hippie/hound dog home on wheels, but I was still uncertain about Taterbug’s mechanics. The previous owner treated her like a baby and tended to her every need. But when you own a vehicle that is 24 years old, needs can change on a daily, even hourly, basis. It will take some time for me to understand the inner workings of Taterbug.
“At least we’ll have a comfortable place to hang out and wait for the tow truck,” I told friends and family at a Taterbug open house. They laughed; I was serious.
Thankfully, this time a tow wasn’t necessary. Taterbug drove just fine, except for the loud clanking coming from the front tire area, so I crawled her on down the road in search of a town.
The water tower of Cottonwood, Minnesota shone in the Indian summer sun like a lighthouse beacon. At first, we aimed for the larger town of Marshall, but after Taterbug’s brakes turned to useless mush, I decided that a smaller town - any town - would do just fine.
On a warm and golden Sunday afternoon, I rolled Taterbug straight to the town park, sitting on the banks of Cottonwood Lake. My friend and I leashed up my three dogs and went looking for a mechanic.
The literal crossing of human paths can be a magical thing. We went searching for a mechanic in the tiny town of Cottonwood and almost immediately ran into Dave and Deb Wiesen, the owners of the local body shop.
Without pause, Dave offered his assistance. An hour later, he was crawling around underneath Taterbug, diagnosing her current woes.
“I have no idea how it happened, but it looks like the two bolts holding the brake calipers in place are sheared right off,” he said. “But amazingly, all of the needed parts are still here. We can carefully roll it over to the shop in the morning and hopefully we’ll just need to replace the bolts.”
A trail angel lifts the weight of worries off a traveler’s shoulders, making you feel at home no matter where you are.
We knew we were in good hands in Cottonwood as we enjoyed the sunset reflect across the glassy lake from our campsite.
At sunlight the next morning, Dave followed behind in his truck while I drove Taterbug to the body shop, using the parking brake to slow myself down.
Dave took apart the disc braking system and explained the mechanics in detail. I was thrilled to get an up close look at Taterbug while someone so knowledgeable explained exactly how she works.
It took him over an hour to remove the stubborn, sheared-off bolts from the calipers. He was careful and meticulous, wanting to make sure he didn’t damage any parts in the process.
Of course, the bolts we needed to replace were special from the factory. Instead of telling us we’d need to order a new caliper and wait for days for its delivery like most mechanics would need to do, Dave took the entire situation as a challenge and used his skills and creativity as a plane and boat builder to fabricate the needed parts.
After tightening a loose belt and some other adjustments, we took Taterbug on a good test drive with Dave at the wheel. My little vessel never sounded so smooth and sweet.
By noon, we were on the road.
Trail angels turn a mishap into a fun memory. Thanks, Dave.
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