Last Saturday I lead a group of twenty people to hike
This was a regular spring field trip for our Iron Men Group at First Baptist in
were joined this trip by the Singles Ministry, also from FBC. It was a good
day. Of course, being spring in
was windy.
But what happened was that we forgot to fuel up during our routine stop
at the Flying J in
drinks and breakfast, and go to the bathroom, but didn’t remember to put gas in
the tank. The gas gauge actually said full, but we should have suspected it was
lying and filled up anyway. We will from now on.
Because what happened next was that once the needle started moving
toward empty, it moved quickly. When we arrived at the trailhead in Pine
Springs, the gas gauge was in the red.. That was very bad news. We were now a
two-hour drive from
to buy gasoline on our way home. We would not make it back.
So Mark and I sent the other eighteen hikers up the trail while we went
to find gas. We drove north, slowly, coasting the downhills, and almost made it
all the way to White’s City, NM, the “gateway to
Park
of a gas station, and we coasted to the side of the highway, about a quarter of
a mile from gasoline. Or so we thought.
As Mark and I walked toward the station we debated whether it was
active or abandoned. It looked clean, no weeds, no missing hoses; but there
were no vehicles anywhere around it. When we got to the station it was locked
and the lights were out. We hoped that maybe it was a credit-card-only unmanned
station.
We walked down the street to the grocery store hoping to buy a gas can,
but the nice lady behind the counter said, “Not only do we not have any gas
cans, we don’t have any gas. We had a huge wind storm on Friday and it knocked
out the computers at the gas station. The only guy who can get them started
again is in
for training.” Bummer.
So we walked back down to the hotel to see if maybe there would be
someone inside who could help. The hotel was attached to an RV Park, and maybe
they would have some gas cans for emergencies. They didn’t. The nice man behind
the desk said he had “no gas and no gas can, and the only guy who could fix the
gas station was in
and his 90-year-old assistant didn’t know how to fix it and he was tired of
hearing about the gas pumps.” The hotel man promised to drive us into
around when he got off work at 3:30 PM. He would’ve driven us right then, but
the hotel was operating on a skeleton staff, it being Saturday and all. (I
would’ve thought Saturday was a big day for a tourist place, but apparently
not). He said the owner was in
getting hotel training, so there was no one else that could help.
So we went back outside and found three National Park employees wearing
bright yellow vests. I guess they were preparing for the traffic rush (even
though it was only Saturday). One of them was a Park Ranger, and we told him
our sad story. He seemed to sympathize, but he had no solutions to offer. Mark
seemingly talked him into giving us a ride into
and gas. We crawled into the back of his official Tahoe, behind the Plexiglas
barrier and behind his array of weapons, and settled in for a half-hour ride to
town.
Only we quickly realized he was planning to give us a ride back to our
bus, not to
Why did he think that would be helpful? What was he thinking? So we got out and
stood around the bus talking until Mark talked him into giving us a ride back
to White’s City. It was kind of weird. He dropped us off in front of the
restaurant, gave us the phone number of the Eddy County Dispatcher, and
returned to traffic directing duty.
In the restaurant, we told our story to the young lady behind the
counter, and she felt so sorry for us she called her boyfriend in Carlsbad to
ask him if he would bring some gas if he wasn’t doing anything. He was
apparently doing something so he said no.
I phoned the Eddy County Dispatcher and told her our story. She asked,
“How did you run out of gas?”
I paused a long time, not sure of the best way to answer that question.
I finally said, “Well, no one runs out of gas on purpose.”
She said, “I guess you’re right.” She took my name and number and said
a deputy would come to help us. But five minutes later she called and gave me
the phone number of a car dealership in
that had reliable tow trucks. I guess the deputy might’ve come himself had the
bus been full of kids.
I called Phil Carrell Chevrolet, and they gave me the phone number of
their tow truck driver. I phoned him, and he told me he would bring us some
gas. He phoned me back about ten minutes later to tell me he was on his way
with five gallons.
He arrived in a white pickup and poured his five gallons into the bus.
We paid him what little cash we had with us. He said he was at a T-ball
tournament when I called. His son was playing, and he came to help us between
games. How ironic that the person who had the best reason for not helping us
was the one who actually did.
So Mark and I drove the bus to
where we put 29 gallons in the tank. We then drove back to Pine Springs,
arriving just in time to eat a late lunch with the first couple of hikers down
the mountain, the Clevenger boys.
Maybe it seems a little odd to be telling this long story when the real
heroes of the day were the ones who hiked the eight miles round trip to the top
of Guadalupe Peak, but they’re going to have to write their own accounts. I can
only tell my own story.
Like the story of God saving the Israelites from the Egyptian chariots
at the
we expect. You might say that this particular case shouldn’t count as a rescue
since the problem was due to a situation of our own making (not gassing up).
But most rescues are from our own self-made situations. Last Saturday we needed
God’s help to get us out of our dilemma, and he helped us, but not before
giving us a story to tell.
“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32
To learn more about
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/
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Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org
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