Unexpected Detours, Lasting Connections
Throughout my life, those who’ve crossed paths with me quickly discovered one undeniable truth: I possess an uncanny knack for finding myself in the most captivating and unusual situations. Perhaps this penchant for adventure stems from a deep-seated desire to be just like my grandmother — an intrepid soul who travelled to more countries than I could name, rubbed shoulders with world leaders, and spun tales so astonishingly surreal that they bordered on the unbelievable yet remained steeped in truth.
Today, I find myself on the brink of narrating a tale unlike any other, one that I now share intimately with my wife, Cheyann. Despite its tapestry woven with threads of tragedy and misfortune, this story possesses a glimmering, fairy-tale-like conclusion — one that promises hope amidst the darkness.
In the evening of Tuesday, January 2nd, 2024, my wife and I embarked from Sparks, Nevada, setting our compass towards Elko — a 285-mile drive across the sprawling canvas of the Nevada desert. Our mission was twofold: attending to personal matters in Battle Mountain and seizing the opportunity to capture the essence of Elko on camera for an upcoming film. We arrived in Elko, uneventfully, and spent the night in a hotel there.
The morning of January 3rd, we found ourselves en route from Elko to Battle Mountain, accompanied by a hired tow truck driver integral to our personal affairs. While the driver diligently worked to retrieve a vehicle on our behalf, my wife and I took our Mustang Mach E to The Colt Casino’s car chargers, planning to charge it during the wait. As I pulled our car into the charging bay, a surprising sight greeted me — a Chevy Bolt EUV, occupied by three individuals, its window defiantly rolled down despite the unyielding snowfall — my phone buzzed to notify me of a new, “Winter Weather Advisory.”
Exiting our vehicle, I initiated the charging process. Just as I prepared to re-enter our car, a gentleman seated behind the wheel of the Chevy Bolt EUV approached me, his face etched with an urgent plea. Batu, as he introduced himself, implored for assistance in charging their vehicle. He informed me that he had been stranded at this very location since 5:00 p.m. the day prior. Their window? Stuck open, because the 12-volt battery had died. He and his two friends, Kai and Kinari, had slept in the car.
They looked cold, and defeated.
After a brief discussion with my wife, we made the decision to invite them into the backseat of our own car while it underwent its charging cycle. We adjusted the heat settings, ensuring their comfort, and provided them with phone chargers to alleviate any concerns about power for their devices. Stepping out, I conducted a thorough inspection of the disabled Chevy — it lay dormant, devoid of any sign of life. My familiarity with the intricacies of electrical systems, currently also leasing a Chevy Bolt EUV and previously owning a Nissan Leaf in the past, allowed me to recognize the dilemma.
Upon closer examination, it became evident that the high-speed CCS charger was firmly plugged into the car, but a disheartening impasse had ensnared the two devices. They were trapped in a futile loop of attempted communication — a frustrating deadlock where the charger sought acknowledgment from the car, yet the car, hindered by its drained 12-volt battery, was unable to reciprocate. Consequently, the charger remained locked in place, its attempts to initiate the charging process stymied by the car’s inability to grant permission due to its dead auxiliary battery.
Returning to our car, I engaged in conversation with our newfound companions, Batu, Kai, and Kinari. They were international students from Weber State trying to visit Yosemite before the end of their Winter Break. Their misfortune began on I-80 when their rented vehicle from Hertz started exhibiting troubling signs. Seeking respite, they sought refuge beneath a nearby bridge, where their parked vehicle attracted the attention of the Lander County Sheriff’s Office.
The gentlemen recounted an encounter with a deputy who pledged to return after a few hours to check on them. However, the promised visit never materialized. Left with waning hope, they abandoned that location, managing to coax the ailing car to a Subway in Battle Mountain, Nevada. Desperate for assistance, they grappled with the labyrinthine automated systems of Hertz’s customer service, finally securing a beacon of hope — a dispatched tow truck that heralded a glimpse of salvation from their ordeal.
Regrettably, the nearest tow truck, a local operation, arrived and swiftly towed them to The Colt Casino’s car chargers with a perfunctory air, leaving them stranded once again. Had the tow truck driver heeded their distress and taken a moment to examine the vehicle, he might have uncovered what I later discovered — the drive and high-voltage battery were intact, yet a subtle electrical fault relentlessly drained the critical 12-volt battery. Regrettably, the driver overlooked these crucial details, dismissing their plight without a second thought.
Their plight compounded as they recounted their attempt to solicit aid from another tow truck company — a venture that turned out to be a scam. One among them fell victim, losing $90 after inadvertently divulging his credit card details over the phone to these frauds who vanished into thin air, leaving them bereft of both assistance and funds.
Undeterred, they sought refuge in the local mechanic shop, only to be rebuffed by the shop owner’s reluctance to extend a helping hand in their time of dire need. Each avenue they explored seemed to lead to a dead end, amplifying their sense of isolation and helplessness in the face of mounting adversity. They slept in the cold car as the snow fell, with window stuck open.
I informed them that a tow truck was en route, albeit laden with a full load from its ongoing task of recovering a vehicle on our behalf. However, my wife and I pledged to ask the incoming tow truck operator to spare a moment and assess their situation, at our cost if necessary.
Recalling a personal incident when I had inadvertently drained my Nissan Leaf’s 12-volt battery, I remembered how a simple jump-start had resuscitated it from a similar state of depletion. In that instance, the high-voltage drive battery efficiently recharged the 12-volt counterpart after we were able to get it started — this offered hope in getting their vehicle moving again.
With the arrival of our tow truck driver, a sense of optimism could be felt in the air. He connected the 12-volt charging cables, and a rush of elation swept through us as the vehicle’s dash and displays roared to life. Every system within the car appeared to be functioning optimally — the charger and the car finally acknowledging each other’s presence. A fleeting moment of triumph was soon overshadowed by an ominous turn of events.
A stark message abruptly illuminated the charging screen: “Please unplug the vehicle as there has been a fault.” Our attempts at troubleshooting proved futile. Changing connectors yielded the same disheartening message, casting doubt upon the integrity of the charging station. Confusion clouded our collective efforts as the car, despite its recent revival, began displaying ominous warnings before abruptly shutting down. Even with the connection to our tow truck driver’s 12-volt charger, the vehicle faltered, dashing our hopes as swiftly as they had risen. As we had just charged our Mach E successfully using the same station, this confirmed a major electrical issue with their rented EUV.
Dismissing our tow truck driver to return to Elko, my wife and I sought refuge inside The Colt Casino’s restaurant, seeking a moment of respite to strategize our next course of action. The minutes ticked by as I endured an agonizing hold with Hertz, enduring a torturous 40-minute wait before finally securing the dispatch of another tow truck.
As conversations unfolded with Batu, Kai, and Kinari, a disheartening reality began to crystallize — a reality where their adversity was compounded by the prevalent xenophobia ingrained in many rural communities, including this one. Not only were my wife and I met with unwelcome sentiments in this town, but these sentiments also extended to the three international students, exacerbating their already dire circumstances.
The situation plummeted further into desolation as the boys received an unwelcome phone call. It was the same tow truck driver, summoned for the fifth time, brazenly cancelling the tow yet again. His lack of interest in extending a helping hand to the boys or towing the EUV amplified the distressing scenario, underscoring the callous indifference they faced in their time of dire need.
A ray of hope came in the form of a call from Hertz supervisor Diane, extending heartfelt apologies to both my wife and I and the boys. She acknowledged the multiple unresolved tickets and expressed her dismay at the oversight that prevented the case from reaching her attention the day prior. Providing a definitive solution, she assured us that abandoning the vehicle was a viable option as she learned more, and she promptly initiated the dispatch of a tow truck from Las Vegas to retrieve it.
In a gesture to alleviate the boys’ ordeal, Diane outlined a clear path forward — urging them to make their way to Reno. From that point onward, they would be facilitated to either catch a flight back home or, if preferred, Hertz would arrange another vehicle for their journey homeward. The promise of a solution emerged, offering a glimmer of reprieve from the nightmarish ordeal they had endured.
Amidst these events, I initiated a flurry of phone calls, reaching out to every conceivable contact in my network for assistance. Among them was Ashley Elliott, an Nevada Women’s Basketball assistant coach and former colleague of mine, and former Weber State assistant coach. Despite her valuable insights, the passage of time had rendered her previous contacts obsolete. My outreach extended to the University of Nevada’s Northern Nevada International Center, where Chloe, a resourceful staff member, provided me with guidance on establishing communication with Weber State. The mission was clear: to relay the assurance that the three stranded students were under our care, safe and sheltered. In my pursuit, I attempted to contact the Dean of Students at Weber State, but regrettably, it appeared they were away on vacation. The pressing question lingered: who remained available at Weber State to address this urgent matter?
As the clock neared 4:00 p.m., 5:00 p.m. in Utah, a sense of urgency propelled me to persist in my quest to connect with someone from Weber State before their offices closed for the day. Scouring the university’s website, I chanced upon a contact number for Dr. Valerie Herzog in the Office of Student Conduct and hastily dialed it, finding myself connected to her. In earnest, I detailed the precarious situation, but regrettably, she couldn’t offer direct assistance. However, her swift guidance led me to a promising lead — a cellphone number to call.
Moments after leaving a voicemail at the provided number, my phone rang, revealing Jessica Oyler, the Vice President of Student Access and Success at Weber State, on the other end. Her immediate attention to the gravity of the situation resonated deeply with me. Jessica took the time to attentively absorb the intricacies of the predicament. Recognizing the urgency, she facilitated a crucial connection — introducing me to Dr. Mary Machira, the Executive Director of International Programs and Services at Weber State.
Dr. Machira exuded genuine concern for the boys’ predicament and expressed a heartfelt desire to communicate directly with them. Collaboratively, we devised a plan, one that Dr. Machira sanctioned — a plan wherein my wife Cheyann and I would transport the boys to Reno, offering them shelter for the night, before I escorted them to the airport the following day.
Blessed by Diane at Hertz, we left the Chevy Bolt EUV behind in Battle Mountain. Gathering the boys and their belongings, we packed them snugly into our vehicle and embarked on an overnight journey toward our residence in Sparks, nestled on the outskirts of Reno. The atmosphere inside the car was one of solidarity and newfound camaraderie as we navigated the late-night roads through a severe snow storm.
In an attempt to lift spirits and bond over a shared passion, we discovered that the boys held a profound affection for basketball. Seizing the opportunity, my wife streamed a live game featuring the Nevada Women’s Basketball team facing off against Boise State. The boys’ eyes lit up with excitement, and our car echoed with enthusiastic cheers when Nevada emerged triumphant over Boise State — Go Pack! The victory proved to be a rallying point, fostering a sense of unity and shared celebration during our eventful journey home.
Following a suggestion from Sparks Councilman Donald Abbott, the next morning I escorted the boys to the Sparks Coffee House for breakfast. The atmosphere buzzed with warmth, and the boys seemed to thoroughly relish the experience. It was hard to discern whether their enthusiasm stemmed from the novelty of enjoying a hot meal amidst their journey or due to the undeniable quality of the food itself.
Inclining toward optimism, I preferred to believe in the latter — that the offerings of the restaurant truly delighted their taste buds. Their smiles and evident satisfaction painted a picture of contentment, whether due to the much-needed respite or the hot food. For now, I held onto the belief that the food’s good taste contributed to their joyous response, further enriching their unexpected journey.
Accompanying the boys to the airport, I facilitated their transition into a replacement vehicle. As we finalized their preparations, exchanging heartfelt hugs and well-wishes, they embarked on the next leg of their trip bound for Ogden, Utah.
They did stay another day here in Reno, and shared with me that they were able to visit Emerald Bay at Lake Tahoe. While they didn’t make it to Yosemite, I would say Lake Tahoe is just as good.
Before parting ways, my wife and I made a humble request — a simple yet meaningful ask: an invitation to their future graduation ceremonies. It was a small token of our shared journey and a way to remain connected to the bond we had forged during their unexpected stay with us. With promises of staying in touch and hopeful smiles, we bid them farewell, watching as they headed towards their next destination, leaving us with the promise of a future reunion at their graduation celebrations.
I want to say a heartfelt thank you to Valerie Herzog, Jessica Oyler, and Mary Machira at Weber State; Ashley Elliott and Chloe Hoy-Bianchi at the University of Nevada.