Ain't nothin' bad about Carlsbad!

         Today is a big day! Our first national park, Carlsbad Caverns, and our chance to buy our National Park Pass, which seems somewhat ceremonial. We wake to a beautiful site of Yucca plants, Mexican Elders, and Afghan pines surrounding the impressive Lake Brantley. The skies are clear, we are showered, Polly is fed and loved, the car is packed- it's time to drive the hour to the park.
         Start the car... try to start the car... try to start the car... look at each other... try to start the car... cuss slightly... try to start the car... moan and groan... pop the hood... look at each other... try to start the car... call AAA.
        "We'll have a tow truck out there as soon as possible", said the operator. About an hour and half later, Short's towing pulls up, and out jumps a rather toothless but very friendly man. He tried about 4 times to jump off the battery, no luck, so he hitched Libby up and Carrie and I climbed into the cab to head the 15 or so miles back into town.
        We pull up to what looks like an old car lot, to Caveman Auto Repair, where everything appears dusty and weathered, including the mechanics. We hang around outside until someone with "Mike" on a greasy name tag approaches and asks us to step into his office, a small room with big windows and a sagging ceiling. We go over numbers and leave him the keys and head off to walk the three or four blocks to a nearby Sonic, where we're able to catch the happy hour and each get a delicious lemon-lime slush. We sit on the patio to await Mike's phone call that essentially holds much of the future trip in its rings.  We wait and wait... finally the call comes. Mike is very informative, but Carrie and I only hear "...at least $350", something about a shot compressor. We tell Mike to order the part and he says they'll have to keep the car overnight.
         So we call AAA and ask for our one free rental car. Too bad, they only go through Hertz and the closest is in Roswell, 197 miles away. So we call Enterprise, Carlsbad's only rental car company and we're put on a waiting list for the day. We walk back to Caveman's and hang out in the office until 6, Enterprise calls to say there is no car for us, but that they'd have one in a couple of days. No Libby, no rental car, no ride back to camp.
        Mike offers to take us, but says he can't pick us up the next day. As Carrie and I are deliberating over whether we think we could get a ride back into town from a fellow camper, Mike chimes in that he has a car we could borrow for the night, the only thing is the tags that are hanging from it are not only expired, but actually belong to another car all together. "I don't even know where the title is," Mike explains as he props his feet on the desk and cracks open a Natty Lite tallboy. "Drive it at your own risk", he cautions.
       "We'll take it!"

       As we drive off into the western sunset in what some might consider a stolen car, we refuel our excitement tomorrow's trip to the caverns and our lust for life.