Grateful to Gilbert! to be continued

Gilbert has one of those big trucks that, if I do get the finger on the road, 9 times out of 10 it is attached to someone who looks like Gilbert, only younger, and driving a truck like Gilberts, only newer.

Gilbert tells me he's retired so he wants to help people.

From frozen fuel to frozen battery

I spend the nite in Illinois, about 100 miles from Chicago, ready to brave the elements and witness the Wall of Hope there.

I debate calling the womyn in Chicago as I head out the door even though it is early - I don't get to finish that thought, as I put the key into the starter and attempt to turn the engine over.

The truck sounds like a distant whimpering cow - she doesn't even sputter or make serious turning-over sounds.

I return the few feet into the hotel, my cheeks frozen, my fingers and toes feeling frostbit.

It has gotten bitter cold, more bitter cold, and the womon at the hotel desk tells me it is 21 degrees - BELOW zero!

She tries to find someone to jump my truck.