At 5:11 pm, I got a text from Rachael that simply said, "I think we're screwed".
Instead of calling her, I called Dale.
"What's going on?"
"Not much", He commented, "We made it to an Advance Auto parts, after Skippy ran us down a bunch of rough roads and railroad crossings, he nearly beat my Gremlin to death!"
"Yeah, these dang kids hit 'shortest route' on their smart phone maps, and then bury their head in it without actually looking at the surroundings", I commented.
"Well, anyway, We got most of the stuff we needed here, but they don't have the fan clutch, so the counter guy loaned Skippy his van to go down to O'Reilley's and pick one up. I've got this one off, and I'm just waiting on him to get back."
"You want us to wait for you guys?"
"No, go ahead...we'll catch up.

We were about ready to roll out when an ancient tricycle front end Farmall M came around the corner of the building. The Dad was sitting in the seat, handling the throttle, and his ten year old son was standing in front of him and doing the steering. They pulled up next to the Barnyard and shut it off.
"We live on the frontage road, and have been watching all the hot rods drive by for quite a while", the Dad explained, "but when this old Dodge rolled by, my son wanted to come down here and check it out!"
We talked with them for a little bit, then they fired up the tractor, and headed back down the road. This seems to happen often with the old Truck, it just connects with a bunch of people in middle America.