Liberty Hill Texas stranger help - the kind of help you want!

            I can’t believe how fuckin cold it is here in Liberty Hill Texas. The wind is blowing cold gusts of air, the sun has barely lightened anything. As I see the town spring up stretched on either side of the highway, I wonder when this town of 987 people named their town “Liberty Hill”. It invokes unpleasant memories of the irrational, scary nationalistic fervor that encased the country after 9/11 and sure enough, flags abound along with gun billboards and liberty bells here.

            I only talked briefly over the phone with Daniel, the diesel mechanic my local Texas facebook senior lesbian friend referred me to. He is not promising he will be able to fix my veggie oil system as he normally works on 18 wheelers – 37 years of experience – but he’s curious about my system and willing to give it a go, especially after I told him my veg oil mechanic will be standing by on the east coast to assist if he needs.

            Daniel has beaten me to the QT station where we agreed to meet. He ambles over to my truck, a tall slim older white man with an amused look on his face as he tries in vain not to stare at my missives. I shake his hand and share the story about my grandson asking a potential playmate camping by us in Maine “what do you think of tRump” in order to judge whether he wanted to play with him. I tell Daniel maybe I should have asked him that question.

            Daniel responds remarkably the same way that Mark’s father responded, turning slightly away, frowning deeply saying “I don’t want to talk about him” in a voice laced with disgust and even hurt that makes me know, even tho he’s deep into repub territory, he’s not a tRump fan.

               I laugh and let him know that’s exactly what Mark’s father said to and feel better about allowing him to work on my baby.

            Daniel turns out to be not just competent but careful and treats me as if I know what I’m doing as well. He is not condescending at all. He discovers one of the two veg oil fuel pumps is not working, goes to the auto supply place a heartbeat down the highway and returns with a $100 fuel pump that he got for $50, his good local customer discount.

            He also calls another parts place again a heartbeat up the highway this time, to see if they have my air filter in stock. They do so I go there after Daniel replaces my fuel pump, intending to buy the filter and then head out of town, testing the fix and wrapping my head around suddenly being free to continue my journey south to the border.

            On the road again, I flip the switches after the engine heats up, crossing my fingers, gladly leaving Liberty Hill and turning south when the truck shuts down, once again…oh goddess. I’m tired and freezing cold but I text Daniel, apologizing for the delay, and ask if he can return to the QT and work again on my system.

            He texts back immediately that he’ll be there in 20 minutes. I head back and this time I go into the QT to see if there’s anything I can eat. I haven’t eaten all day and my fridge is bare. He arrives and begins working on the truck while I’m inside the QT not finding one edible thing. It’s even colder now as the sky has clouded up and it’s late afternoon.

            Daniel closely examines and tightens the clamps then blows air into the lines, clearing them I hope of any debris. He is so careful and particular – and determined to do a good job getting me back on the road – that I think this time, I’ll make it.

            And this time I do! YEAH my veggie oil is finally working and although it's too late to get to my veggie oil guy, it's not too late to restock at Whole Foods before heading to Brownsville!

             Oh and Daniel tells me I can pay him anything I think is fair for this second round of repairs. He says he feels bad that it wasn't fixed and I already paid him. But he has worked for an hour at least and so I give him $50 more dollars...