We Live In A Mechanic Shop...

Well, life has been no less than interesting lately. The alarm goes off at 7am, and every five minutes thereafter. At 8, we're finally roused by the sound of machinery clanking to life. Weak light streams into our cave. Mens' voices echo outside. We sit and wait. Sit and wait. Wait. Sit.


We've been stuck in Anchorage for the last 10 days, waiting (and sitting) on a mystery diagnosis for our not-so-precious Günther and living in the garage of Arctic Import Repair. Bruce, the kind owner with a marvelous mustache, lets us stay, granted we hunt the shop rats and stay out of the grease buckets. It's always dark, but we have everything we need. Except for a running vehicle, that is.


Turns out, Günth has a case of "terrible engine death". After sputtering and spurting up the Alcan, he's gone and blown his piston like a little brat. The guys here finally know what's wrong, after days of trying, as Günther died in their arms. They are doing surgery. I've felt let down, stir crazy, discouraged, and depressed. Our remaining time here is unknown.


On the bright side, things are finally starting to turn around. We've hooked up with some distant relatives of mine, right here in Anchorage. My mom's stepmom's brother's daughter, to be exact. They set us up in their motor home, which basically feels like a 5-star luxury suite at the moment. We've been on a Six Feet Under marathon. We're out of the rain and the cold. And, to top it all off, Bruce has agreed to trade some our massive car repairs for a website! Yes, I love the bartering system!

I'm not sure how much longer we will be here, but I just hope it's before the snow creeps down the mountain. It's this ominous pending thing, as it starts at the top, works its way down, then sticks by Halloween. At the moment there's a dusting barely covering the peaks. It wasn't here when we arrived. I'll keep you posted.

-Rach