Everyday is an adventure.  Life can be good, even when things happen that are sometimes less than good. 

It was Friday, late afternoon and I had reached the summit of Highway 26.  I passed Government Camp and Hood River Junction.  I was well on a way to the town of Bend, where I was scheduled to attend a meeting  on the following day   I set my cruise control for a safe 57 miles an hour as I admired the snow and trees that bordered the highway.    I drove on, and as time passed, I noticed the road starting to become straighter and the trees fewer.

A road sign declared:  "You are entering the Warms Springs Reservation."  I turned a knob and moved the radio dial to a stronger station.  I noticed that my cell readout declared "No Service Available."

Trees disappeared and were replaced by sagebrush.  I slowed down as I approached the Mill Creek Bridge and gazed at the deep canyon that it formed.  I wondered how the early settlers were able to scale those cliffs and cross the deep canyon rift.    I could tell that I was getting closer to my destination, the road no longer curved and it had become a straight line as I headed towards Highway 97.   I estimated that I had little more than an hour before I got to my destination, in Bend, when I heard a hissing sound.  A red light flickered on my cars instrument panel:  "battery - No Charge".

"Oh oh." I thought.  "My alternator isn't charging.  I wonder if there's gas station or someplace where I can stop?"

The hissing was replaced by a "pop" and all at once my power steering and power breaks disappeared. 

"Now I am in deep do do…" thought I, as I coasted my car into the parking lot of the Warm Springs Museum.   The engine had stopped; but I still managed to glide into a parking place.  I looked at my cell and said a word of thanks - a signal.   I opened my hood, and a good Samaritan started walking toward me.

He was a man in his late twenties.  He was dressed in blue jeans and a cotton shirt.  He appeared to be a Native American.

"Looks as if you might be having some trouble;" said the man.

"I think my serpentine belt just broke" I replied

"Let's look at it" said the stranger, as he poked his head under my hood.  "I think your alternator must have a bad bearing and froze up. 
Look" he said as he tried to turn the alternator pulley.   "It doesn't want to move."

"Oh boy." Said I.  "I think I had better call Triple A." 

"We have a phone book in the museum that you can use."  Said the good Samaritan.

We walked to the Museum, a modern building constructed of concrete wood and stone.  It was cool inside as a smiling and very concerned lady gave me the telephone number for the Triple A Garage in the nearby town of Madras.   

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