Burmese Connection. Ashish Basu

a loose body part, and at steady freeway speed, the vibration and sound would subside. It did not quite work that way as the sound increased steadily—it did not change with speed. As he was crossing Kettleman City and going toward Coalinga, the sound increased considerably, and he had to stop on the shoulder right after the junction of I5 and State Highway 33. For a few minutes, Kip sat inside the car and thought about the options he had. None of the options seemed very appealing.

      Finally, he thought maybe switching off and cooling the engine might help. Kip switched the engine off, let the car cool down for fifteen minutes, and attempted a restart, but this time, the engine would not even start. When the car didn’t start after several attempts, Kip realized that it would be dark in a few hours, and he did not want to be stuck on the shoulder of I5 after dark. With cars traveling on I5 at eighty-five miles an hour, that would be a very bad idea in the middle of nowhere in the truest sense of the term. Also, towing might not be available by the American Automobile Association (AAA) after dark, so he decided to call the California AAA toll-free number from his iPhone.

      The emergency roadside service of the AAA said that the estimated arrival of a tow truck from Los Banos was an hour later. So Kip went inside the car, switched on his blinkers, and waited. He wanted the speeding cars to see him because of the blinkers. An hour later, a very impressive looking AAA towing truck came and parked about fifty feet ahead of Kip on the shoulder. The car had all kinds of lights on its sides and also on top of the driver’s cabin. The driver came down from the truck, took Kip’s membership card and driver’s license, and filled out some paperwork. After that, he tilted the cargo section of the tow truck and winched John’s Acura on the tow truck—the Acura fit into the flat cargo bed pretty well. The bed could accommodate sedans and trucks.

      As soon as Kip settled on the front passenger seat, the driver started his drive back to Los Banos. The first AAA approved auto shop they ran into was full, so the tow truck driver had to take Kip to Dick’s Auto Repair a bit further down the road toward Merced. Kip got down and explained the problem to Dick, the owner. Dick nodded his head and said he understood the issue; he said he had repaired this type of problems in the past. He said it was quite common with old fasteners.

      He explained that some of the fasteners used in the undercarriage had become loose. And those had to be replaced with original Honda or Acura parts as soon as possible; otherwise, the larger parts would sustain damage, which would cost more. He was hoping that the problem would not be complicated because that Acura was his only transport back to San Rafael, and he was delayed. Dick had the Acura lifted in his repair bay and inspected the undercarriage with a powerful flashlight designed for inspection.

      After doing a visual inspection, he hammered a few places and declared, “I can repair it—it is not going to be expensive, about three hundred dollars or so, but it will take time because I have to get a part from another store in Morgan Hill. I can get it done in eight hours tops.” When he heard the time estimate from Dick, Kip’s heart sank; he realized that he was looking at the possibility of spending the night at sleepy Los Banos, for which he was not prepared. Not the ideal situation to be in, but Kip had seen much worse days in the US Army.

      Dick went inside, made a couple of calls, and came to Kip with a smile. “Good news and bad news: the good news is the part is available and it is coming; the bad news is it will take two extra hours. I’ll have my night shift guy get it all done, and you can pick up the car in the morning.”

      Kip could drive long distances for ten to twelve hours in the daylight, but he was not a good nighttime driver because he had a tendency to doze off. Kip reluctantly decided to spend the night in Las Banos to avoid night driving. Dick’s shop was on Highway 152, and on his way in, Kip had seen a Walmart. One block from there, across from the Walmart, there was a La Quinta Inn. Kip was in no mood to go and look for another hotel.

      Kip decided to visit the Walmart first because he felt there was a high likelihood that he would get a room. Los Banos cannot be crowded with visitors at this time of the year, Kip thought. Kip had to do a bit of shopping at Walmart for toothpaste, razors, and bottled water. After Walmart, Kip went to the La Quinta Inn to check if rooms were available. Luckily, rooms were available, and the front office staff were very helpful—they even ordered pizza for him. There were few guests, and Kip took a room on the third floor to avoid the white noise from I5.

      Kip was in no mood to step out again for dinner, so he had accepted the hotel manager’s offer for the pizza. Los Banos was almost in the middle of California and on I5, so the hotel was not heavily booked during the week. As soon as he was inside his room, Kip called Tim in San Rafael and filled him in about his stay in Los Banos.

      Tim joked and commented, “Some people prefer the scenic route to get back to San Rafael from Glendale—what can I say? Please enjoy your vacation. I will see you day after tomorrow, then.” After that, Tim ended the call.

      The day had been long and tiring, so Kip had a shower, finished his delicious hotel ordered pizza, watched the news on CNN for a half an hour, and went to sleep. In many cities in the US, there were Black Lives Matter protests. In several cities, the protests had turned violent toward the late evening hours. The next day, before breakfast, Kip called Dick for a status on the repair. Dick said that they had more delays, but the car would be ready for pickup by 10:00 a.m. It didn’t matter to Kip that much because it would still be mid-afternoon when he would reach Highway 101 near Gilroy. He would switch to Highway 280 eventually, but he was a lot more worried about the traffic on Highway 101. Once he was past that bottleneck, in San Jose, Highway 280 was manageable. He had no way to get a better sense of the traffic on the way. I will cross that bridge when I get to it, thought Kip.

      His next traffic nightmare could be the Sausalito bound traffic on the Golden Gate bridge, but he thought he could deal with it. Kip had a leisurely breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a lot of black coffee. After that, he walked around the block and completed his three-mile daily quota of brisk walking. Los Banos was a pretty quiet place; Kip liked the simple working-class town. Visitors were probably there only because of I5 or the University of California, Merced to the East. It was also a route to the Yosemite Park, not a popular one but a good one, and there was a lot less traffic.

      He used the hotel Wi-Fi, cleared all his emails, sent the two documents Dr. Kang had wanted, and then left for Dick’s auto shop. On arrival at Dick’s repair shop, Kip noticed that the brown Acura Integra was ready and parked outside—Dick had even washed the car thoroughly. Dick profusely apologized for the delay and said that while the repair work was going on, someone had called about the car and his mechanic talked to the caller. Kip asked him what the call was for, but Dick did not know; he went inside to check with his mechanic, but the mechanic had already stepped out for early lunch. Dick said their lunch break was usually one hour, but he was not sure if the mechanic would return in an hour. He had left early for a doctor visit that had to be today.

      Kip was in two minds, but in the end, he decided not to wait any longer and risk traffic delays on Highway 101 North and then on the Golden Gate Bridge. He did not want to get caught in traffic on 101 or even 280. Kip paid Dick’s invoice with his American Express and headed for Highway 152 Westbound; he would now be on 152 West all the way till Gilroy, California. For a regular Tuesday morning, traffic on the road was light, and Kip made good time. The car was driving like a charm. Clearly, Dick knew what he was doing—the noise was all gone. The ride quality was very good for a 2002 Acura. Gasoline cars of that vintage were really made, Kip thought. He had to admire the build quality of the Japanese cars—so reliable after so many years on the road.

      After a couple of hours, Kip arrived in Gilroy and merged into 101 Northbound. There was a small roadside brush fire near San Martin, so for about three miles, Hwy 101 had only two of the four lanes operating. Contrary to his expectations, Northbound 280 was completely clogged with traffic near Palo Alto, and that slow down added at least twenty-five minutes to his travel. Most of the crowd was for the VC firms and HP campus—some for Stanford University. There was a demonstration going on at the Golden Gate Bridge toll plaza. He saw that the protesters were carrying signage that said, “Make America Great Again” and “Four More Years.” He knew who those protesters were. Finally, around 6:30 p.m. after crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, Kip could see his lane. Roads were wet—it had rained