A few miles later, we entered Rockford Illinois, and the route sheet simply told us to follow 2 South signs through town. They didn't explain that Il-2 South was under construction, with lanes closed and detours all the way across the city.
I kept waiting for Rachael to pull over, and allow Skip to take a look under the hood, but it never happened. When we finally cleared the overhead lighting of civilization, and were once again driving through the dark countryside on a shoulderless, narrow ribbon of asphalt, it was blatantly obvious to me that the battery in the Belvedere was on it's last leg. If she was more than a few hundred feet ahead of me, the taillights would completely disappear, the glow from Skippy's cell phone was brighter!

Now, I need to take a few minutes to shed light on a few things about me that may (or may not), explain my actions over the next thirty or so minutes. My Dad grew up in a hardscrabble lead and zinc mining town, shortly after WW2. His legendary temper, and willingness to deal with conflict physically served him well in those formative years...later in life, not so much. As the oldest of four boys, I spent my formative years tasked with the job of peacekeeper, and disciplinarian any time Mom and Dad were away, unfortunately, Boone and Darren share Dad's disposition, and lack of control, so my job was never an easy one. As such I've developed a healthy disdain for the inability to control rage and anger. At the very least, I consider it a weakness, at the most, a character flaw. I hate the behavior, not the person, and I hate it most when I'm the person!

I picked the phone up once again, seething as we approached another small town, Skippy answered Rachael's phone, and it took all my effort to control my tone, "Tell her to pull into the first big parking lot we come to on the right, and to leave the car running!"
After a short pause, he answered, "OK", and hung up.
It was a grocery store. She pulled in, and stopped parallel with the road. I pulled up on her side of the car, and shut the Valiant off. I was yelling before I could even get around the front of my car to approach the Belvedere, I stopped short of her door by ten feet in an effort to control myself, "Both of you get the hell out of the car right now", I screamed.
Skippy complied immediately, his eyes as big as saucers. Rachael sat in the car, both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.
"Is it in park?"
"Yes!" She turned to glare at me. Every inch, her Mother's child.
"Then get the <expletive> out of the car and look at these dang headlights!"
As she opened the door, I turned to Skip, "Get that hood up, and plug the alternator back in!"
She walked around the door, and peered at the orange orb, who's light only spilled out four or five feet in front of the bumper, and said "I could see just fine!"
Skip was struggling to hold the hood, and fumble with the plug at the same time, so she grabbed the hood for him, using that action to turn away from me.
"The heck you could! Don't give me that crap! You guys need to learn to pay attention to the car, not your darn cell phones!" My throat was already getting raw, as every word I shouted was at max volume, "Did he get it fixed?"
Skippy had stepped back from the car, and was nodding his head affirmative, but still hadn't spoke.
"I don't know!" Rachael responded, turning to face me again.
"Look at the DANG HEADLIGHTS!" I crouched forward, pointing, "They are reaching across the parking lot now, pay ATTENTION!"
Skip shut the hood, and returned to the passenger seat of the car, his jaw had hung slack throughout the entire ordeal, with nary a word...perhaps I had underestimated him, but I was beyond cognitive reckoning at that point.
"Drive to the checkpoint, but whatever you do, don't shut it off when we get there...it's going to take the rest of the drive to charge that battery back up", I growled, then spun on my heels to return to the Valiant.

I followed her out of the parking lot and back onto the road, trying to gather myself and reign in the frustration that was flooding over me, as a result of my outburst. Unfortunately, we arrived at the checkpoint a scant two miles later, which didn't allow me any time to recover. We pulled into the drive-in, and positioned our cars in an attempt to get a picture with the 57 Chevy delivery elevated on a pole. Skip jumped out and shot a few pics, while Rachael sat stoically in the driver's seat, making no effort to look my way.

To make matters worse, the rest of our crew rolled into the checkpoint a few minutes later.