North Carolina just won't let me go

Thing is, I was headed out of town this morning. Before I left, I decided to stoll the streets of Beaufort and try to spot some wild horses (or dolphins) across (or in) the river. But I was waylaid by a guy who claims to be the harbor master. The self-proclaimed harbor master (he was barefoot, which seemed odd, but he was also extremely anti-establishment, so that fits, and in any case, he was a hoot, so he's going to remain harbor master to me) proceeded to regale me with tales of Beaufort (voted the "coolest small town in America") and the sea and pirates and maritime life in general.

He took me to the Maritime Museum and convinced me to wend my way through the Outer Banks, so I went to my car to grab my maps so we could plan my route.

My car. Which wouldn't start.

After a failed jump from a non-functional jump box, I put in a call to AAA and tried to grab a sandwich before they came. But the restaurant was hopping and I didn't think I'd be able to get fed before the AAA guy came so I offered a hurried apology and ducked out, to be hailed by Matt (the manager? owner?) who shouted after me, "Hey, Triple A, I'll give you a jump."

He brought me to my car, we pulled out the jumper cables, and I turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

So I bid Matt goodbye and went down to the dock to harass a woman and her daughter who were fishing off the hotel's pier. I offered them some dried figs (which were not a hit) and explained my sad tale. Destiny (the daugher) and I shared some candies and we all sat around, fishing, not fishing, and considering. Janet (the fisherwoman) grabbed her cell, saying, "My brother's a mechanic. I'll get him to come over.

I was kind of conflicted. It all seemed so random. But the random has played a key role in this trip. (Another point in favour of this unconventional approach was that AAA lady A (in Missouri) told me that it might take 2 hours for a tow, and added that there were no AAA-approved facilities within 100 miles (which is the towing distance I'm entitled to with my Plus membership, so I was going to wind up someplace random anyway).)

After the AAA guy came and went (nothing he could do, might be the alternator, might be the starter, couldn't really say), Earvin showed up.

Earvin is a lifesaver. He has a trunk full of tools and is one of those knowledgeable, intuitive, fearless mechanics who, even better, wants you to understand, as well as you can, what is going on and why.

After a number of unsuccessful (and scary) considerations (the engine wasn't getting fuel, the ignition wasn't connecting, etc.), and after a near-death experience (I have always parked in gear (I drive a manual), and once Earvin managed to sort of "hot wire" things, the car jumped off the jack and practically mowed him down) (I plan to park in neutral from now on), he came to the conclusion that all I needed was a starter button and a fuse. (I had blown the big 30-amp fuse you can find in the fuse box in the engine block. Sad part? I had bought a box of fuses to be "prepared" for this trip, but I had only considered the small fuses you find on the side of the steering column. This was not one of those.)

So Earvin priced the parts I needed, Destiny got a ride home from her grandma, and Janet and I sat around chatting until Earvin got back.

(The poor hotel owners really were concerned that we were lowering the tone of the hotel this whole time, which we were, I suppose, but a dead car is a dead car. Whaddya want from me? That said, they were patient, and the son made sure we didn't feel we were being run off, offering coffee, the use of the rest rooms, etc.)

So my reliable mechanic whipped things into shape in no time. I have a new way to start my car. We all hugged and snapped this charming pic. I was sad to have to say goodbye.

North Carolina, despite fierce competition you are still my favourite state.