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Bad luck near Cookeville It was to be the trip of a lifetime. Our secondhand pop-up camper, tired Pinto station wagon and three small, rambunctious sons were set to traverse the country. All went well until we approached Cookeville, Tenn., on Interstate 40. Without warning our car began to swerve dramatically. My wife gripped the steering wheel as a ripping, rending sound reverberated from the camper. We pulled aside, got out and found that the entire wheel had broken, puncturing through the wheel well. Courteous strangers helped us limp into Nashville for repairs. That evening we sat forlornly in a restaurant, our hopes dimming about our cross-country adventure. An older gentleman approached me and, noticing my discouragement, spoke a few words of blessing without knowing our situation. I took heart from his encouragement. Even though it was a holiday, we were able to find assistance and make the necessary repairs. We made it successfully across country, logging over 1,200 miles in the repaired camper. On our way home, we were literally across the interstate from our earlier misadventure when we heard another explosion. This time we had blown a car tire. Needless to say, we have avoided that stretch of Interstate 40 ever since. Bill Kamm |
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