The year was 1981. My nephew, Chris Bouldry, had been attending Bible College in Springfield, Missouri. He came home for the Christmas holidays and decided not to return to school. That left one problem. He needed to retrieve his possessions from his room there. The second problem was how to make the trip. He didn't have a car or any money.

We had just bought a new Ford Fairmont. We had driven to Lakeland, Florida, and spent Christmas there. I offered to drive him down and pick up his gear. My son Tom would ride with us. I figured I could do it in a weekend. Chris could help me drive. I had never been to Missouri. It would be a fun trip with our new car. Yeah, right.

The trip to Missouri was uneventful. The weather was good and the traffic was light. We took 69 to Indianapolis, then 70 to St. Louis, crossed the Mississippi and continue on 44 to Springfield, Missouri. We arrived before dark and found a motel.

The next day was Sunday, January 25, 1981. Tom and I went to church with Chris at the Assembly of God Church he had been attending while in school. Then we picked up his possessions, had lunch and headed back home.

The drive up through Missouri was pleasant as we admired the scenery. Problems arose just outside Baldwin, Missouri, near St. Louis. Chris had been driving, when without warning, the engine raced at high speed. We burned rubber when that happened. Chris turned off the motor. We sat at the side of the road trying to figure out what was wrong and what to do. It was in a desolute spot. Traffic was very light. Our decision was to hit the starter and zoom off again, turn off the motor and coast to almost a stop and do it again and again until we came to a gas station. This was before the day of cell phones.

Near the turnoff to Baldwin, Missouri we came upon a gas station with a motel up on a hill. I was able to call a wrecker to tow my car to a Ford dealership in Baldwin. We checked into the motel. Our trip home was on hold until my car was fixed.

I remember walking into the motel. An unkempt man in a dirty muscle undershirt checked us in. I never will forget walking into that motel room. Chris turned on the television. SuperBowl XV was just starting. The Oakland Raiders were playing the Philadelphia Eagles at the Superdome in New Orleans. Chris and Tom sat down to watch the game. I went to the office asking for more towels.

There, I got in a conversation with the owner's wife. She asked if I was married. She was a widow. She and her husband had owned a U.S. Mail run from Springfield to a city in Arkansas. He bought the motel for her so she would be self reliant after he was gone. She would have been, but she remarried to a man who swept her off her feet. He then immediately told her that the motel now belonged to him. She was to get out of the office and into the kitchen. Her advice to me was do not remarry when my husband dies. I have taken her advice for a variety of reasons..

There is much more to this story. Too much to be done in one episode. Another time I will write about the trip back home.