Independence Day Misadventures

You may recall from a previous post that we planned on going to Missoula for the Fourth of July to visit Susan’s family. As it turned out, getting to Missoula was no trouble. Getting back, though, was a bit more difficult.

Everything went perfectly on the way to Missoula. Nathan slept the entire way. Susan read magazine articles to me in the car. We had snacks and air conditioning. It was wonderful. It took three hours, just as expected.

We stayed in Missoula until just before 8 p.m. Our plan was to leave at Nathan’s normal bedtime so that he would sleep all the way home too. This did not go according to plan. Nathan woke up about 3 miles out of Missoula, and we had to stop for a half an hour on an interstate turnout to quiet down what was, possibly, the worst meltdown the kid has ever had.

With a fitfully sleeping baby, we headed east again, noting the massive thunderclouds visible on the horizon. We chased the storm across the  mountains, driving on wet roads most of the way to Butte. It seemed like we were always a few miles behind the rain. The night got darker, the lightning got brighter and closer, and then, at about 10 p.m., we caught up with the storm near Rocker, Mont.

It was one of the worst cloudbursts I’ve seen in years. Rain blotted out the windshield, making it almost impossible to see. Then came the marble-sized hail, which fell for a solid 15 minutes. We were forced to the side of the interstate. After waiting for about five minutes, listening to the hail pound against the windows and car roof, we decided to forge on, hoping that it would abate.

It didn’t. Fortunately, as it turned out, we were only about 200 feet from the Rocker exit, where there’s a big old truck stop. With the tires slipping on the hail that now covered the ground like a sheet of ice, we shot under the gas station awning to find some shelter, along with about every other traveler around. Every pump had a car parked at it; no one was fueling up.

After the hail let up a bit, I pulled over near the truck stop and parked to run in and use the bathroom. After I came out, the night took an interesting turn: the car wouldn’t start. Maybe it got too wet. Maybe something funky happened because we’d run the AC too much that day. Maybe the battery’s crapping out. Who knows? All we knew was that the car wouldn’t start.

Thankfully, a couple of guys from the convenience store knew a little bit about cars and brought around a little gas-powered golf cart to give us a jump. We got the car started after about 30 minutes at the truck stop and headed straight for Bozeman, not daring to shut the engine off again. We finally arrived in Bozeman at 12:24 a.m., four and a half hours after we left Missoula.

It wasn’t all bad. The delay let things dry out over Butte a bit and we got to see some fireworks on the way through town. Happy Fourth of July!