Hello Hardluck?!?

I don't know about anyone else, but I do not like creating tag names. I envy people who can spin off creative names or use a generic one and move on. Despite trying, it is near impossible for me to do either, and just provides more proof that I think too much! This applies to everything, but on the other hand, I'm also pretty happy with things when all is said and done...most of the time! A tag name is meant to be something that identifies you to others, and for me, it needs to say something about me and make me feel good when I see it. I've had a few people ask why in the world I chose "Hello Hardluck" for my tag name? They seem to think it's a little sarcastic or pessimistic, and I can see why they might think that, but I actually consider myself to be very fortunate! I have hard times, like everyone else, but I am extremely blessed and often wonder why I've been given what I have.

So, why "Hello Hardluck"? Because every time I see it, I'm reminded of one my favorite memories and my wonderful grandpa, Burt Taylor, that passed away nearly 12 short (or long? can't decide) years ago. It immediately makes me happy! So, I thought I'd tell the story behind it. I'll warn you, it's not necessarily funny, and some people kind of shrug their shoulders and say "hmmm" when they hear it. If that's the case, I'm sorry that you didn't have the opportunity to know my grandpa, experience his dry sense of humor, ride in his truck, or have him make you an ice cream cone...all those little "tidbits" in life that combine to make the person, the friendship, the experience, etc. Let me preface this also by saying that I'm not what I'd call a "lucky" person. I don't necessarily have bad luck, and sometimes I make my own luck. Mostly, I'm just very fortunate with some absurd "luck" now and then. Every once in a while, I have a string of it for a week or so...one thing right after the other. This was one of those weeks, and this very condensed story starts in the middle of a string of absurd luck. I wish I'd written down all that happened that week. I don't remember everything, but I'll never forget the range of feelings I experienced, or what I learned from all of it. Although I look back and laugh now, I didn't know how in the world I was going to make it through that week!

I was attending the UofU at the time and was on the board for the Student Alumni Association. We were getting ready to host a conference for several hundred people from around the country, and I had several assignments. I went down to Orem the weekend before, and on my way back to Salt Lake, I had a gut feeling something was wrong with my car. (I'm a little paranoid about cars, to say the least!) Since I didn't hear noises or anything, I decided I was being silly, but I was quickly coming up to the last exit before the point of the mountain, so I thought I better get off anyway. In 1994, I didn't have cell phone, and Lehi was still a little town, pretty much in the middle of nowhere, with an exit by the Utah Roller Mills. There was no Thanksgiving Point, or Cabella's, no South Mountain...nothing but the state penitentiary and a closed water park from the Lehi exit to 90th south. Traffic was like a trickle, and on a late summer evening, it was mostly semi's and stuff. I barely caught the exit, and I drove down the ramp shaking my head at my silliness. As I neared the end of the ramp, though, there was a sudden pop and steam started pouring out of the hood of my car. Someone was looking out for me! It just so happened that one of the first "park and ride" lots in Utah County was right at that exit, and I was able to turn into it quickly. Granted, the lot was the only thing at this exit other than the long barren road to Alpine, but I did count myself lucky at that moment. The lot was empty except for one SUV, and amazingly enough, the owner had worked late and happened to be dropped off at his car within minutes of my pulling in. I was able to get a ride to the nearest gas station, three miles or so down 1-15. My adventure getting back to my parents home that night is another long story but, needless to stay, I got back very late and fell into bed exhausted.

I don't remember why now, but for some reason I needed a car for the conference, so I couldn't just catch a bus up to Salt Lake. I borrowed someone's car (I forget who's because it's all kind of meshed together in my mind on that day) and left early the next morning. Not too long after getting on I-15, that car started having problems. I wound up closer to home this time, but it still took a while to get back there, and I was pretty frustrated.

I didn’t know what I was going to do, but Mom had already called my Grandpa and explained the situation. He had offered to let me use his truck. Grandpa was always ready and willing to help out, but borrowing his truck was a scary prospect to me. Whenever I think of Grandpa, I always think of his truck, too. He loved it and took very good care of it. It was sacred to him, but thinking back, I'm inclined to believe it may have been more sacred to all of us than it was to him, because we associated it with an incredible person and memories. I'd driven it a few times for a short jaunt to haul stuff or something, but I didn't drive it a whole lot. Even though I was nervous, I was kind of excited to be able to drive Grandpa's truck all the way to Salt Lake. It felt really good to think he trusted me enough to let me do that! Mom drove me over to Springville to pick it up. I thanked Grandpa profusely while he checked the oil and everything. He warned me about the blindspots in the truck and gave me a few parting words of advice. I remember him standing on his porch waving as I pulled out of his driveway. He had a smile on his face, but like other times we'd borrowed his truck, I saw him take a deep breath and sigh. I just remember feeling so grateful that he let me take his truck and telling myself that I was going to prove I was worthy of his trust. I'd bring it back safe and sound, all polished and vacuumed for him. Since it was Grandpa's truck, that wouldn't be a difficult job or even make a ton of difference over the way he kept it on a daily basis, but I knew he would notice and appreciate it, and I would definitely feel better about it.

Driving back to Orem, Mom was following behind me. I had the radio on enjoying my little drive, and drinking in the smell of grandpa's cologne. He always had a small bottle of it in the glove box, and his truck always smelled of it. I passed the Center Street exit in Orem and I heard a bit of a knock and then a rattle under the hood. I turned down the music and listened, but I didn't hear anything. I was sure that I must have been hearing things and was overly paranoid. Besides, it was Grandpa's immaculately cared for truck, and he'd just checked everything right before I left. I turned the music back up, and almost immediately, smoke started billowing out from under the hood. I can't describe the pit I had in my stomach right then! The only comfort was that mom was behind me and I could see the expression on her face in the rearview mirror which said she had the same sick feeling. I wasn't alone this time! Of course, Mom also tends to see the humor in things, and I could also see that the corners of her mouth were slightly turned up and she was biting her lip trying not to laugh. (While you wanna smack someone that's doing that, it was oddly comforting in it's own way!)

I was pretty close to the 8th North Orem exit by now anyway and pulled off. There's a gas station right there and I hurried and pulled in and around the back where I knew there was a hose. Mom pulled up in front of me and got out of the car shaking her head while I tried to turn off the truck. The key wouldn't turn in the ignition and I couldn't turn the truck off. I kept trying and the ignition let off a large spray of sparks! I panicked at that and jumped out. Mom and I were going back and forth on what to do, and one of us said, half-joking "well, you don't think it's on fire, do you?" Upon hearing that, some lady that had been watching us since we pulled in said something like "Fire? Fire. FIRE!" and ran into the gas station in a big panic. They pulled whatever safety switch they have at gas stations and a couple of minutes later a huge screaming yellow firetruck came rumbling down 800 North and next to my car. Five firemen in full gear jumped out to assess the situation. If I could have crawled into a manhole right then, I wouldn't have had far to crawl! They shut the truck off somehow and then razzed us a little bit about it. I've noticed, after a few "run-ins" now, that firemen seem to be very friendly, and even jovial, when they realize there isn't anyone in danger. I asked if it was really necessary to have the siren and flashing lights on, and one of them said, "but that's the fun part." I'll bet it is, too!

We had to have grandpa's truck towed, and I was absolutely sick about it. I didn't know how I was going to tell my grandpa what had happened. I've blocked the next part from memory, but I was dumbfounded when grandpa and grandma told us to come and get their car and that I could take it to Salt Lake. I always looked forward to going to Springville, but the drive over the next morning was AWFUL! I was nearly in tears thinking how disappointed grandpa was going to be, and how small I felt knowing he was going to ask me questions about what happened, and what I did, and what I should have done. When we pulled up, grandpa happened to be out on his porch. I really took my time getting out of the car and walking across the lawn. I remember some sort sympathetic exchange between my parents and my grandpa before they went in the house, and I cringed. It was quiet then, and even though I didn't look up to see if grandpa was still there, I knew he was, and he was looking right at me. Tears were starting to well up and I couldn't lift my head to look at him. Grandpa, in his endearing, teasing voice said "Well, hello, Hardluck!" His voice didn't deny that he was concerned about his truck, or wondering what in the world happened, but his voice did say it was all right, and at that moment, I knew that all he really cared about was me. Relief washed over me and I had to giggle at the way he said it. I looked up just in time to catch the twinkle in his eye as he winked at me and laughed under his breath, then put his arm around my shoulder and squoze. When I think of my grandpa, that brief moment is always the first image that comes to my mind. I think it's because of that complete, unconditional love that I felt from him at that moment, and because it captured everything wonderful about my grandpa--his humor, his love, his quiet dignity. I've always felt a very special connection to my grandpa, but I think all of his grandkids do. That's the kind of grandpa we were so blessed to have!

So, that's the story of how "Hello Hardluck" came to be, in a very condensed nutshell! Like I said before, whenever I hear, think about it, or see the words on my blog, I recall my grandpa, and it makes me happy no matter what's going on. I don't think I've had a week quite so ridiculous since that one, but it sure helps me put some of the truly tough ones in perspective!

Interestingly enough, a few days later, the UofU chartered buses for the last night of the SAA conference to take everyone to Snowbird for a fun summer evening. (When you've grown up under the Utah mountains, it's pretty eye-opening to find out how many people have never seen mountains, and how awe-struck they are! We're talking people between 20 and 50 years old, and they were like kids in Disneyland for the first time. We're pretty lucky to live where we do!) The 15-member SAA Board divided up among eight different buses, and we were to be the tour-guide/entertainment for the ride up. In case you didn't know, it takes a lot longer to get up a mountain in a bus...we had a lot of stuff planned to keep everyone engaged for the whole ride and then some. At least, we thought we did. I'll give you one guess at what happened to the bus that "Hello Hardluck", entertainer extraordinaire, was riding...one guess! Yep, for the 4th time in a week, a 4th vehicle broke down in billowing smoke! I was SO glad I wasn't the one driving!

This story is just one "tidbit" from my life that gives me cause to express my love and gratitude to the many, many people who have influenced me, both living and passed on...people I've known personally, many that I haven't, but people I constantly think about and would like to "make a toast" to all the same. I hope you'll enjoy a few "Toasts n' Tidbits" with me from time to time, and post a few of your own!