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My main hobby is barrel racing, and I was very happy when summer arrived so that I could get back on the road and start competing more frequently.
Of course, with increased travel comes increased maintenance on my vehicle, trailer and horses.
For some reason, I have a knack for being the one in the vehicle whenever something goes wrong. It can be a u-joint, a starter, or most commonly a blown out tire.
Because of my knack for breakdowns, I have a tendency to count on my dad and my boyfriend to keep the truck and trailer in sound, driveable condition, though PCC rodeo coach Doug Janke has helped out when things have gone wrong out here and I couldn’t get to Southeast Kansas to have Dad or John fix something.
I’m very grateful to all three of them, since they’ve each helped me keep going down the road without any major disasters.
About three weeks ago, I had a flat on Dad’s truck, and by the time I got to the PCC rodeo grounds, I knew it was beyond repair.
After spending a good thirty minutes trying to get the spare down, I gave up and called Doug to rescue me.
He not only loaned me a vehicle for the night, he took the flat tire off and got it replaced for me by noon the next day.
With that problem solved, I thought my whole rig was road-worthy again; especially since my grandparents had just bought me a brand new set of trailer tires the week before.
Well, the rig did great for about 600 miles, but last Friday night I stopped at an open rodeo between Augusta and Leon on my way to the family farm near Yates Center and things went south soon afterwards.
After making my barrel run, I loaded the horses back up and headed east.
About eight miles into the trip, I noticed the truck wandering across the road, so I pulled over and checked my tire pressure.
Everything looked good, so I hopped back in and headed east on highway 54 once again.
Five miles later, the truck swerved into the westbound lane, then back to the eastbound lane, the driver’s side back tire fell off the wheel, the wheel hit the pavement, and the whole rig stopped before I could get it onto the shoulder.
I knew instantly what had happened because I’d been in that spot before — just not with a trailer and my two barrel horses at midnight.
The lug nuts had vibrated off my aluminum wheel, and destroyed the stud bolts in the process, leaving me with just one stud bolt long enough to put a lug nut on.
As I called for a tow truck and arranged for John to head from Independence to Yates Center, get a truck and come get the horses and trailer, two guys in a truck stopped to help. They managed to get three lug nuts cross-threaded onto the remaining pieces of stud bolts and while another passerby and I held the horses in the ditch.
The guys helped me unhook the trailer and pull the truck onto the shoulder, then they hooked up to the trailer and moved it to a side road.
I spent the next two hours just hanging out alongside the road, chatting with a wonderful young lady from Rosalia who just happens to have a boyfriend in Pratt.
By the time the tow truck arrived, my new friend Jordin and I had walked all across the grassy area beside the highway as both my horses grazed on some nice Butler County grass. Guess the county crews won’t have to mow that part now!
John and my brother Brett were about ten minutes behind the tow truck, but by the time I had paid my towing bill, they had the old farm truck hooked to my trailer and with Jordin’s help, my horses were loaded and ready to finish the trip.
When it was all said and done, the three of us arrived at the farm about 4 a.m. — three hours behind my original plan — and we were back up before 9 a.m. to get Brett to his baseball practice, replace the lug nuts and stud bolts, and get ready to go barrel racing that evening.
We thought everything was fixed and we’d had our share of bad luck for the weekend, but as John parked the truck at Coffeyville, I pulled the passenger’s side door handle off the truck.
So for the rest of the day, I had to roll my window down before he shut the truck off, then open the door from the outside.
Luckily, Dad wasn’t too upset with the broken door handle, and he got a new one put on it yesterday afternoon.
We’ve also been checking the lug nuts and stud bolts obsessively, since I could happily go the rest of my life without having another tire fall off.
As far as any of us can tell, both the truck and trailer are in great shape for the July 4 weekend, and I’m hoping that’s the case, since my travel plans include a Thursday jackpot near Great Bend, a rodeo at Hepler on Friday, and jackpots in Paola and Parsons on Saturday and Sunday.
And even if something else manages to break or come undone over the weekend, at the very least, I’ll be able to add to my collection of “broken down on the road” stories, though at this point, I think the collection is large enough!
My main hobby is barrel racing, and I was very happy when summer arrived so that I could get back on the road and start competing more frequently.
Of course, with increased travel comes increased maintenance on my vehicle, trailer and horses.
For some reason, I have a knack for being the one in the vehicle whenever something goes wrong. It can be a u-joint, a starter, or most commonly a blown out tire.
Because of my knack for breakdowns, I have a tendency to count on my dad and my boyfriend to keep the truck and trailer in sound, driveable condition, though PCC rodeo coach Doug Janke has helped out when things have gone wrong out here and I couldn’t get to Southeast Kansas to have Dad or John fix something.
I’m very grateful to all three of them, since they’ve each helped me keep going down the road without any major disasters.
About three weeks ago, I had a flat on Dad’s truck, and by the time I got to the PCC rodeo grounds, I knew it was beyond repair.
After spending a good thirty minutes trying to get the spare down, I gave up and called Doug to rescue me.
He not only loaned me a vehicle for the night, he took the flat tire off and got it replaced for me by noon the next day.
With that problem solved, I thought my whole rig was road-worthy again; especially since my grandparents had just bought me a brand new set of trailer tires the week before.
Well, the rig did great for about 600 miles, but last Friday night I stopped at an open rodeo between Augusta and Leon on my way to the family farm near Yates Center and things went south soon afterwards.
After making my barrel run, I loaded the horses back up and headed east.
About eight miles into the trip, I noticed the truck wandering across the road, so I pulled over and checked my tire pressure.
Everything looked good, so I hopped back in and headed east on highway 54 once again.
Five miles later, the truck swerved into the westbound lane, then back to the eastbound lane, the driver’s side back tire fell off the wheel, the wheel hit the pavement, and the whole rig stopped before I could get it onto the shoulder.
I knew instantly what had happened because I’d been in that spot before — just not with a trailer and my two barrel horses at midnight.
The lug nuts had vibrated off my aluminum wheel, and destroyed the stud bolts in the process, leaving me with just one stud bolt long enough to put a lug nut on.
As I called for a tow truck and arranged for John to head from Independence to Yates Center, get a truck and come get the horses and trailer, two guys in a truck stopped to help. They managed to get three lug nuts cross-threaded onto the remaining pieces of stud bolts and while another passerby and I held the horses in the ditch.
The guys helped me unhook the trailer and pull the truck onto the shoulder, then they hooked up to the trailer and moved it to a side road.
I spent the next two hours just hanging out alongside the road, chatting with a wonderful young lady from Rosalia who just happens to have a boyfriend in Pratt.
By the time the tow truck arrived, my new friend Jordin and I had walked all across the grassy area beside the highway as both my horses grazed on some nice Butler County grass. Guess the county crews won’t have to mow that part now!
John and my brother Brett were about ten minutes behind the tow truck, but by the time I had paid my towing bill, they had the old farm truck hooked to my trailer and with Jordin’s help, my horses were loaded and ready to finish the trip.
When it was all said and done, the three of us arrived at the farm about 4 a.m. — three hours behind my original plan — and we were back up before 9 a.m. to get Brett to his baseball practice, replace the lug nuts and stud bolts, and get ready to go barrel racing that evening.
We thought everything was fixed and we’d had our share of bad luck for the weekend, but as John parked the truck at Coffeyville, I pulled the passenger’s side door handle off the truck.
So for the rest of the day, I had to roll my window down before he shut the truck off, then open the door from the outside.
Luckily, Dad wasn’t too upset with the broken door handle, and he got a new one put on it yesterday afternoon.
We’ve also been checking the lug nuts and stud bolts obsessively, since I could happily go the rest of my life without having another tire fall off.
As far as any of us can tell, both the truck and trailer are in great shape for the July 4 weekend, and I’m hoping that’s the case, since my travel plans include a Thursday jackpot near Great Bend, a rodeo at Hepler on Friday, and jackpots in Paola and Parsons on Saturday and Sunday.
And even if something else manages to break or come undone over the weekend, at the very least, I’ll be able to add to my collection of “broken down on the road” stories, though at this point, I think the collection is large enough!
