Number 5, What's in a number?

What makes number five so special to the Dorias?  Sutton was able to have it in 15, Burke was lucky enough to have it all four years, Levi started with it, then had 38 (8-3=5), then he got it back, Carlisle had it.  I think we actually have more 6s and 8s in our lives than we do fives.  We are a family of 6.  There are three 8s and two 6s in our phone number, two 6s in our street address, two 8s on my car license plate, so why 5?  I clapped my hands a few months ago when Levi and Joanna received their new VT phone number and it contained a 5. It had two 6s, but the fact that it had one 5, made it a good number to have.  And, their getting married in May, the fifth month of the year, that had to be lucky. And, their post office box is 75!  Five has always seemed more perfect, more desirable, even luckier despite being odd. 

This was our fifth drive to Alaska. Right around five thousand miles to our cabin in Talkeetna, there it is again, another 5.  For nine days, and over four thousand miles all had gone smoothly.  We are always prepared for a break down, but have never had so much as a flat.  Leaving the Kluane region and heading for the Alaska border, Bucky and I spoke of perhaps even getting to Talkeetna on the ninth day, a feat equal to last summer.  It would be very late, but we could do it, when suddenly,
"Did you hear that?"
I had heard it, something like metal hitting the pavement.  Definitely not a good sound.
Bucky was quick to pull to the gravel shoulder and upon inspection there was no doubt as to where the sound originated.

We had no choice but to leave the trailer on the side of the road and drive the Hawk to the nearest town, Beaver Creek, YK, about 20 miles ahead.  Despite its small size, Beaver Creek has a Westmark Inn to accommodate tour buses as well as a nightclub called, Buckshot Annie's.  What was more helpful to us, was Far West Auto, a service center manned by Walter, 88 years young and his son-in-law, Carl, both with years of experience helping folks in need like us.

Walter was able to weld the tongue of the trailer, bringing it back to its original strength.  By stopping quickly, it had not broken all the way through.  Bucky and I felt incredibly fortunate that this happened when and where it did, We spent just a little over two hours at Far West and some of that time was while Walter went to lunch!

                                                        88 years young, with a story of his own

Bucky, Fisher and I were so happy to be back under way.  The border now lay less than 50 miles north.  It shouldn't be long now.  The further north we headed, the poorer the highway became.  The huge rollers caused by perma-frost were a bit better than last summer, but despite Bucky's keen eye, looking well ahead and at times taking the oncoming lane, there was just no avoiding the quick up and down of these huge frost heaves.  I was busy planning how to position Fisher and I for our picture in front of the Welcome to Alaska sign.

                                   Fisher is distracted by another dog coming for its photo op.

Finally, number 5, five trips across the US and a good portion of Canada and we're in Alaska.  Now, if we can be so lucky as to finish strong and most importantly safely. 

Alaska's roads are constantly under repair in the summer.  Pilot cars are used to guide large strings of traffic from one end of the construction to the other.  The wait for a pilot car can often be quite long, up to 30 minutes.  Bucky is forever shutting the RV down, getting out of his seat and heading back to the bathroom, leaving me to fret that I might have to actually get behind the wheel and pilot the Hawk behind the pilot car! 

It was after having passed through US customs, and not far from Tok, the first major town after entering AK, that Bucky again pulled quickly to the shoulder.

"What happened!", I asked.

"We blew a tire on the trailer."

By carefully monitoring the side mirrors, Bucky had seen the tire explode and the rubber fly.  Sitting on a very dangerous stretch of highway with huge trucks thundering by, was not the best place to change a roadside flat.  Within minutes, perhaps only 1 minute, a father and his son stopped to help.  With flashers on and the Dad flagging people to slow down, Bucky and the son were able to get the tire changed.  The son was on his way to Kodiak to the Air Force Base after having been stationed in Charleston, SC. I thought, quite a climate change!  Despite offering maple syrup, bottles of booze, and money, there was no way these two good Samaritans would take anything from us.  We were quickly able to pay it forward outside the small village of Christochina.  Here, we saw a young native woman with her thumb out walking the shoulder, her Jeep with a flat tire off to the side.  She hopped into the copilot seat and seemed to enjoy the attention that Fisher immediately gave her.  I felt badly that she wore black pants.  They were covered in white hair when she got out to leave.  We dropped her at her work, a brand new clinic, for the native residents of Christochina.  She told us that she drove each day from Nebesna to work at the clinic, a 45 mile trip one way.  It felt good to be able to help.

Despite the mishaps we experienced, I would like to think that 5 is still lucky.