“Cars passing rolled down their windows to hear better, until finally, traffic came to a standstill.”
On Christmas Eve, 1992, the church was having a special candle light Christmas Eve service.
As our family got ready to go, the house rang with music. Two of my sons, Joel and Jonathan, home from college, and my daughter Joy who was still in high school, kept playing Christian rock songs they wanted me to hear. I had only been a Christian for a few months, walking on glitter-filled air, and soaking up all the beautiful experiences and joys sent my way in this new world of wonder. I was literally laughing with joy as Joel, Jonathan, Joy, and a friend of Joy's got into Joel's battered old Camero and left for church with the song, "My Hero" by Shadow Wings, blasting away in the stereo. A few minutes later, Eddie (my husband) and I followed in our Ford Escort. I was still hearing "My Hero" in my head, glowing inside as I realized that Christ was just that — my knight in shinning armor, my hero, my beloved.
We hadn't gone far when we saw what looked like an accident ahead. An old Camero was sprawled across half the highway, its tail lights illuminating the white line in the middle of the road and it's hood just barely reached the shoulder. It was the kids. Before I had time to be alarmed, I saw all four of them standing safely off the road, beside the car.
Eddie pulled the Escort into a protective position behind Joel's car and turned on the emergency blinkers. We jumped out of the car, both of us yelling, "What happened?" Silently, Joel pointed to the left, back wheel . . . or rather where the wheel had been. The car had hit a large rock on the road and the studs of the wheel had been completely sheered off. The Camero was leaning to the left on it's brake drum. The wheel had rolled over the shoulder of the road, part way down a hill.
Now you have to picture the local geography to really appreciate our dilemma. Morenci, Arizona , little more than a mining camp, sits on top of a mountain. Four miles away, at the bottom of a curved, downward-spiraling road, part of which is cut out of the mountain, is the equally small town of Clifton. Thirty miles from Clifton is the tiny town of Duncan. And that is all there is of Greenlee County, Arizona.
The Camero was sitting right at the top of the "hill", as the locals call the mountain. From there, everything is straight down, through the cut, until the road reaches a sharp curve at the bottom. The wheel was well and truly off. We couldn't just jack up the car and replace the wheel. The lug nuts were broken off. What to do?
There was a service station across the road and back toward town a short distance. But this was Christmas Eve! In Morenci, things shut down for everything but a full moon. Tonight, even the scorpions and rattlesnakes had shut down business and gone home. Cars heading for Clifton were going around us, and those coming up sometimes had to stop and wait for them. Friends and acquaintances and even a few strangers started stopping to see if they could do anything. Since no one had a set of spare Camero lug nuts with them, there was nothing they could do. The car couldn't even be pushed out of the road without completely tearing up the brake drum, axil, and who knew what else.
We were still standing by the Camero wringing our hands, listening to various suggestions from people.
"Call for help?"
"Who. Everything's closed in the entire state."
"There must be something open somewhere."
"How about the emergency room?"
"That's for sick people, silly, not sick cars!"
Finally, our friends, the Sterlings stopped, and Richard made the first sensible suggestion. There had to be some kind of emergency services somewhere in case of wrecks and so forth. Find out who, what, and where.
While some of the men walked to the station, which had a pay phone, I began to take notice of the absolute beauty of the night. The air, just nippy enough to be exhilarating; stars so bright they were dazzling; and Christmas lights twinkling on homes all over town.
More people stopped, most of them pulling over across the street into the large parking lot behind the service station. Then Linda Sterling had an inspired idea. She started singing, "Silent Night" and soon everyone joined in.
Cars passing rolled down their windows to hear better, until finally, traffic came to a standstill. Cars going down were blocked by a solid line of vehicles coming up. A couple of patrol cars, lights flashing, managed to reach us and started setting up traffic control barriers. By then, Eddie, Richard, and the other men were back. They had found a tow truck. However, it was in Duncan on another emergency run. It would be a couple of hours before it could get to us.
Our caroling grew enthusiastic. God had placed us on a mountain top with a captive audience! We were having a blast. In fact, many of us can't remember a Christmas Eve we've enjoyed so much either before or since.
Then Richard Sterling — a good man to have around when you're in a tight spot — came up with a really novel idea. "Hey, if anyone's got a hat or a big cup, we can go down the hill and take up a collection to pay for the tow truck!"
Unfortunately — or maybe fortunately — the deputies got the traffic moving again before we could act on Richard's idea. When the tow truck finally showed up, we were almost sorry to see it coming. We finished the evening with hot chocolate for all who wanted to follow us home.