An Old Man named Dale - A Christmas Story from Sage Creek Repair

You may have heard this story before. You may have even lived it. Doesn’t matter what time of day it happened, or the weather. But for this story, the dark of a winter storm could have meant a quick drop, and an icy plunge off an East Idaho highway. 

A young woman presses against the steering wheel with both hands. She’s breathing to herself, eyes tightly shut, baby screaming in the back seat. She’s facing the wrong way on the I-15, looking north to Shelley on the Southbound side of the highway. Not a soul comes toward her from up the dark road, and she can see now the glint of her headlights off of dead, black swaths of the road.  Black ice.  “We could have died,” she realizes. 

Pull over,  she thinks to herself. She’s gotta take care of the car, get to a safe spot, then she can get to baby girl. She inches the car around to the proper side of the road and tests the brakes at 5 miles per hour. They barely catch. “What is going on?!” So, she pulls the e-brake, slaps the hazard lights button, parks her sedan, and throws open her door. 

After jumping into the back seat, she comforts her daughter, a 10-minute ordeal. She checks her phone, which she learns has 1-percent battery just before it shuts off completely. She can plug it in later. The car is still running fine.  But I can’t drive without brakes. 

She closes her eyes, rocking side to side as her daughter slowly drifts off to sleep. The young woman nestles her baby back in the car seat, buckles her, makes certain her tiny hat still fits snug. Then she presses up from her seat and, after silently pressing the door mostly shut, uses her hip to bump it closed. 

“Howdy there!” 

The young woman starts a little, looking behind her car at a large truck with a dually. An older gentleman with a silver toilet bowl of hair on his head beams at her and, even in the dark, his blue eyes sparkle from over his glasses. “You having some trouble tonight?” He approaches with a bundle draped over his arm, slaps his jacket front to stir off the cold air as he shivers. 

Do I tell him the truth? I don’t wanna be treated like an idiot. But I kinda deserve it.  She could have kept going on that, saying that she deserved a lot of things. 

“No brakes,” she calls. “Should’ve gotten’em checked.” 

The man’s smile falters a moment, and he surges passed her. “Oh, my… are you alright?”

“As well as I could be, I guess,” she admits, watching him crouch by the driver’s side front tire. “Scared us pretty good, though.” 

The older man sniffed the air. “I didn’t wanna say anything, but… I could smell the tires—.” 

“The tires,” the young woman nods, a chuckle bubbling up in her, and they both laugh quietly. She takes in a breath through her teeth. “Wound up facing north!” 

The man looks up at her, “You’re kidding!” 

She shakes her head. The older man stands with a grunt and sighs deeply. He pats his jacket and the woman can see a name tag there. He smiles broadly, his teeth a little worse for wear. “Well, I’m glad I was passing by!” 

“Yeah, I… didn’t hear you!” Now that she mentioned it, she couldn’t recall any sound, or lights appearing just before she got out of her car. 

The older man smiles warmly, “Name’s Dale! What can I call you?” The young woman shrugs, “Em is fine.” 

“Em? Short for Emily?” 

“Emma.” 

“Some history behind that name, Miss Em!” 

“Not a lot of people like it.” 

“It’s yours to do with what you like, Em.” Dale laughed. “Just cuz others didn’t do it justice don’t mean you won’t.” 

“I haven’t yet,” she mumbles. Dale had just started back to his truck, but he eyes her, making her clamp her mouth shut. Dale and she stood eye to eye now, and she blinks in surprise. His face softens, and he smiles again. He points at her, “Yet.” He chuckles and strides up to his truck. 

In forty-five minutes, Dale got the car hooked up to his truck, towed Em and her daughter back to Idaho Falls and pulled up into a little lot off the Yellowstone Highway. 

“These guys,” he says with a hushed tone,” should be open another hour or two. They can at least get you some answers.” 

Em says nothing. Dale doesn’t either. Em looks up at him, and realizes he’s just looking at the building, painted blue as the summer sky. He has a wistfulness in his eye. She wants to asking him about it, hear his story—. 

“You got somewhere to stay?” Again, Dale’s voice is hushed, and she can’t pick up anything but kindness in his voice. “No,” she mumbles. 

“Nowhere to stay,” he airs, “or no one to stay with?” 

“Same difference.” 

“You could stay at a hotel,” Dale shrugs, “or you could bunk over at a friend’s. Or family’s.” 

Em winces at the mention of that word.  Family.  She says nothing, trying to busy herself doting on her daughter, adjusting her hat for the dozenth time, tucking the blanket and swaddle under her chin. 

“I always loved this shop,” Dale says, drawing Em’s eye. “Seems it was yesterday it was just starting out, out of a tiny hardware shed off the side of a car garage. Potential. A helping hand. Things I try to live up to.” 

Em gathers herself for a moment. “You’ve helped us,” she makes the effort to smile as she says it. 

“It’s funny,” Dale continues, “I always thought auto shops and Christmas had a lot in common.” 

Em laughs out loud. “Wait… what?!” 

“I’m serious,” Dale says, “serious as a heart attack! Techs like these guys work day in and out making sure kids, moms, dads, grandpas like me—they do their best to make sure cars have a second chance! And,” Dale gestures over the hood of his truck, “in times like these, a second chance is just about the greatest gift you can ask for.” 

Em cocks her head at him. “Why’s that?” Dale looks her square, a twinkle in his eye. “Cuz second chances are priceless. But they’re also free, if we give them.” 

Em blinks at him.  Second chances… are free?

“Whelp,” Dale grunts, sighing one of those indulgent sighs again, “let’s get you unhooked! Ask for Brett—he’ll get you taken care of—and, hey.” Just before opening her door, Em stops to look at him, still dazed from the conversation with this man. “Yeah?” 

“Let him know,” Dale grins, “I said hi.”

Em searches him, seeing something she can’t place but can’t deny either. “Yeah,” she nods, “will do.” Dale nods in thanks, and the two of them drop to the snowy lot. As her sneakers crunch underneath her, she takes in the lot, a gentle golden light highlighting the warehouse down the way, and the snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground. Em pulls her scarf down to drape over her baby’s face, keeping the snow off. She turns to Dale, “Thanks again.” 

He’s gone. Dale, and the truck are nowhere to be found. In their place, her old red sedan sits with it’s headlights on, snowflakes drifting lazily down. She looks and— No way…   only one set of tire tracks through the snow?!  She looks high and low, but there’s no sign whatsoever that Dale, or his truck, ever existed. Her daughter starts to stir, so she gives the lot one more searching glance, and ducks into the auto shop. 

She spends 15 minutes with the technicians there, sharing her info and her car’s issues. She doesn’t mention the spin out she had just north of Blackfoot. Brett comes down, the shop’s owner, with his wife April. The two of them seem nice and, as they chat, they prove to be very nice. 

“Yeah,” Em says, “Dale towed me into town after he found me off the highway.” 

“Dale?” Brett and April share looks. 

Em thinks back on the night’s events.  What do I share that won’t make me sound crazy?  

She nods, “Yeah, he said to tell you guys hi. Well, he said  you,  Brett.” Brett nods, and he and April look to one another again. “Just like him,” he says. Brett dismisses himself and heads out into the shop. Em sits, and April offers a cup of cocoa, which Em gladly accepts. 

After an initial inspection, the mechanic and the service tech invite Em back to the counter—they can order parts and have them in and installed by 9 am next day. “I can do that,” Em nods. She passes over her card, gets the services paid for, and signs the receipt. Her daughter stirs in her arms again, and Em bounces her gently. April speaks up, “Can we get you dropped off somewhere?” 

“How much does that cost,” Em says absently, then immediately regrets it. “I’m sorry, I—!” 

“No, it’s ok,” April smiles, “it’s free.”  Free , Em remembers. 

“Let’s get you to where you need to get to!” April shepherds Em out the front door to the concierge vehicle. Em can’t stop thinking about Dale, about what he said, about what he challenged her to do… 

April asks for directions for Google Maps, and Em gives her the address for her parents’ house. 

“So,” April strikes up conversation, “how will you spend your holiday?” 

Em shrugs, looking down at her daughter again. “Sharing gifts,” she smiles, “for sure.” 

Happy Holidays, from Sage Creek Repair!