John McCroskey Commentary: If Your Car Breaks Down on Trip, I Hope It Happens to You in Colorado

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Recently, as I was driving through Colorado on my way to New Mexico, I broke down in a very tiny place named Dove Creek. The problem I had was significant and not something easily remedied, especially since the problem involved a trailer, and I couldn’t move. That’s when what could easily have been awful, wasn’t.

A fella walking by stopped to see what was wrong, and what I might need. It’s 4:50 p.m. and what little is in Dove Creek was closing shortly. The little Ford shop brought me tools, some new bolts, and offered to help. He crawled under the truck with me, lying in the dirt in his formerly clean clothes. Once we had it temporarily secured, he helped me move it a couple blocks to a parking lot where I could work on it as long as needed. He left his tools with me, and told me he’d stay open until I was sure I wouldn’t need anything else.

The owner of a very small NAPA store walked over to see if he could help. He too was closing but said he’d be in the store until I was on my way.

A young guy, in a big lifted truck (and Confederate flag in the window) stopped to get his mail and walked over to see if I needed any help. 

I was able to get back on the road in large part because these people gave time, which was not insignificant, and kept their businesses open in case I needed some more help.

After the temporary fix was done, I made it to Cortez, Colorado, and it was obvious the temporary fix needed more work. So early Friday morning I found a small fabricating shop to see if they could make the repair permanent. The owner, Monty, told me no one worked on Fridays, but he got a couple of his guys to come in to do the work. It wasn’t cheap, but if you’ve ever been stuck somewhere and all you really want to do is get home, you know you’d probably pay whatever it took.

Monty stayed to be sure the work was done and as we talked he mentioned he grew up in a tiny town just to the north, Dove Creek, Colorado.

So while the whole ordeal was really aggravating, it could easily been so much worse. I was amazed at the folks I met who were helpful, friendly and concerned about a stranger who looked like he needed (and did need) help.

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This past week, I received a very important looking piece of mail from the Washington Department of Licensing. I opened it and it told me I must be prepared to prove I’m a legal permanent resident of these United States when I renew my commercial driver’s license. 

I’m 61 years old, have had a driver’s license since I could, have voted since I could, have had a passport for a long while, and a CDL for at least 6 years.

Their letter let me know this is a federal requirement, and they are just trying to comply with it. But the more I thought about it, the more irritating it becomes. I’ve always been a citizen of the U.S. and was asked to prove residency when I registered to vote, joined the Navy, got a super secret clearance, and a driver’s license for the first time — all of which were years ago. I had to be a resident to be elected sheriff too, yet apparently none of this matters.

I have no idea why these guys are wasting time with this, other than it gives them something politically correct to do. 

Meanwhile, I’ll continue to look for my first-grade report card from Cascade School to prove my residency.

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John McCroskey was Lewis County sheriff from 1995 to 2005. He lives outside Chehalis, and can be contacted at musingsonthemiddlefork@yahoo.com.