To her surprise, the trailer in front of her exited too, and as she followed it off the freeway, she realized she was now between the two trailers. As if mesmerized or hypnotized, she continued to follow the turquoise trailer until she realized she’d just entered the Stay Awhile Trailer Park and was now stuck on a one-way lane with the pink-and-white trailer behind her. Embarrassed, she had no choice but to continue on, driving up to the gate of the trailer park.
“Can I help you?” a middle-aged woman asked pleasantly.
“I, uh, made a wrong turn,” Dillon said quickly. “I was, uh, looking for food and lodging and I—”
“We have food and lodging.” The woman smiled.
“But I don’t have a trailer.” Dillon gestured behind her.
“You don’t need a trailer to stay here.” The woman explained that most of the park was for campers with trailers. “But the trailers in that section over there”—she pointed to where a row of cute trailers were situated—“are nightly rentals.”
“Really?” Dillon blinked in surprise. “You mean I can stay overnight in one—you have a vacancy?”
“You’re in luck. I just had a cancellation.” The woman introduced herself as Susan and told Dillon where to park her car. “After I take care of these folks, I’ll meet you in the office.”
Before long, Susan registered Dillon as a guest, handed her a map of the park, and gave her the key to the Lemon Drop trailer. “It’s the one closest to us.” She pointed it out. “And our restaurant is in that Airstream down on the end. They close at nine. Enjoy your stay.”
Dillon felt a childlike excitement as she entered the tiny abode. It reminded her of a child’s playhouse. Everything was small and sweet—and yellow and white—from the checked curtains in the tiny kitchenette to the quilted bedspread on the full-sized bed in back. Perfectly charming!
Dillon decided to take a quick stroll through the trailer park since she wanted to get a peek at the other campsites before it got too dark. Then she stopped at the restaurant trailer, which had a few small tables inside and outdoor dining as well. She ordered from the limited menu and, sitting outside in the dusky light, consumed the most delicious blue cheese buffalo burger ever.
By the time she was tucked into the surprisingly comfortable sunny yellow bed, she felt almost completely happy . . . and before she drifted off to sleep, she said a little prayer, gratefully thanking God for directing her path today.
With more than ten hours of driving ahead of her, Dillon got up with the sun the next morning. Her hope was to reach Grandpa’s farm before dinnertime. She had purposely not called—in the hopes of giving Grandpa a pleasant surprise. But she didn’t want to arrive after he’d gone to bed and scare him to death.
It was a long drive, but after her good night’s rest, she felt refreshed. And the scenery through Utah, Idaho, and into Oregon was beautiful. But with dark clouds ahead, she could tell she was heading for bad weather, and about an hour from Silverdale, in the middle of nowhere, it began to pour. Fortunately, there weren’t many cars on the road, but to her dismay, after half an hour of vigorous swiping, her windshield wiper blades appeared to be disintegrating—right before her eyes.
By the time she reached Silverdale, it was still pouring and she could barely see the car in front of her. But if her memory was correct, the old hardware store was on this end of town. Hopefully it was still open. When she found the hardware store, now called Atwood’s Feed and Seed and Hardware, she could see the OPEN sign still on. Parking in front, she made a fast dash through the rain, reaching the door just as the sign turned off. But when she tried the door, it was still unlocked. “Hello?” she called out hopefully.
“Sorry, ma’am, we’re closed,” the man briskly told her. “I’m just locking up.”
“But I really need some windshield wiper blades.” Dillon remained inside the door, ready to plead her case.
He pointed to the clock over the door. “Sorry, but we close at six on Sundays. We open tomorrow at—”
“But I can barely see out my windshield—and it’s raining cats and dogs out there. I’m desperate.”
His expression softened. “Okay, what kind of blades do you need? Our automotive section is kind of limited.”
“I, uh, I don’t know. Are there different kinds?”
“What kind of car do you drive?” His tone sounded impatient.
She quickly told him the make and the year, and he disappeared for a couple of minutes. When he returned, he had a package in hand. “I think these will work—at least for now. But you should replace them with the ones specifically recommended for your vehicle. We have an auto parts store in town, but they’re closed now.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.” As he rang up the purchase, she realized this guy was rather nice looking. She took in his hazel eyes and wavy brown hair, and as he ran her debit card, she noticed his name tag read Jordan. “I really appreciate your help. I’ve been driving all day, but the last hour—in all that rain—well, it was torturous.” She paused to sign the receipt. “I don’t have far to drive, but it’s a narrow gravel farm road. And I’d rather not drive into the ditch.”
He handed her the receipt with a crooked smile. “So . . . do you know how to install new blades?”
“Not really . . . Is it difficult?”
“It can be tricky. If you want to wait a minute, I’ll lock up and give you a hand.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” He walked her to the door, locking it after she went outside. She stood under the awning, trying to avoid the rain still pouring down in sheets. One by one, the lights in the store went out until it was dark inside. Wishing she’d put on a jacket, which was probably buried in the back of her car, she continued to wait. Then, wondering if Jordan had forgotten her, she decided to open the box of blades. Perhaps she was on her own now. How hard could it be to put on wiper blades? She was just giving up on ever getting the plastic box open when Jordan came around the side of the building.
“Sorry to take so long.” He shook the rain from his head. “The security system can be finicky.” He produced a large pocketknife. “Let me get that box open for you.”
“It might need the jaws of life.”
He chuckled as he slit it open. “Packaging is a pain.” He dropped the waste into a nearby trash barrel, then nodded to her Subaru. “That your car?”
“Yep.” She followed him out into the pouring rain, noticing that he, like her, didn’t have on a coat. “Can I help?” She reached out to hold the new blades while he proceeded to use his pocketknife tool to remove the old blades.
“You’re right, these are shot.” He handed them to her.
“Colorado had a long, hard winter.”
“That where you’re coming from?” He already had one blade installed and moved to the passenger side.
“Yes. Colorado Springs.”
He handed her the second worn-out blade and she threw them both into the trash barrel, taking a moment to stand under the awning, even though she was already soaked. Jordan fiddled a bit with the blades, then joined her under the awning. “Well, hopefully that will keep you from driving into the ditch.”