My Jeep Broke Down Across the Street From a Murderer

A true story

Highway driving scares me. For my hour commute, I prefer the empty country roads. Besides, the farmland scenery is beautiful.

A few years ago, my beloved Jeep, Oliver, decided to repeatedly overheat. I had been dealing with this for so long, it became part of my daily routine. I’d occasionally take Oliver back to the mechanic to hear they still didn’t know what was wrong. Topping off the coolant would buy a week, before that familiar *ping* sound would return, informing me my temperature gauge was deep in the red. On country roads, I could speed up above 80 km/h and the cold, wintery air would bring the temperature back down to a safe level. City driving would mean pulling over, turning off the car, and freezing for a half-hour while my engine cooled down.

I had survived the Canadian winter. We were well into spring, but the weather didn’t care. A terrible ice storm hit, and I was driving home right in the middle of it. Large ice pellets bounced off my hood. At stop lights, the wind swayed the Jeep back and forth. I couldn’t hear my radio over the roaring wind and falling balls of ice. I stared at a parade of red taillights through manic windshield wipers.

*ping*

“I’m still in town! Come on, Oliver,” I mumbled aloud.

The dial was barely in the red. I could gamble. It was freezing and icy, and I just wanted to go home. My nerves were up and my fingers fidgety. Soon I would be at the country roads, where I could finally get up to 80 km/h.

I was stuck at the last red light before the country road. Sitting was always the worst. My eyes drifted down, fixed to the dial. I was actually watching it move steadily further into the red. The Jeep tilted to the left from the pounding wind. My heart was pounding.

Focus on the road. Conditions are bad enough.

Green light! Desperate to reach 80 km/h, I sped down the country road. Thinking the speed would bring the temperature down, I felt a sense of relief — until I looked at the gauge. It wasn’t working; the frigid air wasn’t cooling the motor.

I accelerated faster down the empty road, still hopeful. A sound comparable to gears jamming at an industrial factory overtook the storm noises.

Oh, no. Please, no.

Oliver continued down the road but violently shook. My heart sank as I looked down at the gauge.

The dial was off the scale, well beyond the red. With no other choice, I pulled off the road into an empty lot that was undergoing construction. It was the last driveway before a long, open stretch of nothing. I turned off the engine and took a deep breath.

I took out my phone to call my husband, Evan.

“Hey Ev, Oliver broke down. I can’t make it home. It’s really shaking and I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, I’ll buy some coolant and be right there.”

I passed the time playing on my phone, but the raw air seeped through my coat and against my skin. Even my bones felt cold. I couldn’t turn the engine on to generate heat. Frozen rain pelted against my window. The shivering left me shaking, just like Oliver. I could see my breath.

My husband phoned back.

“Jess, I ran out of gas on my way to buy the coolant. I’m walking to the gas station now. I should be there in half an hour.”

“Try to stay warm,” I said, wondering how I could follow the same advice.

I had passed a house before turning in to the empty lot. I turned my head. I barely saw it through the frozen rain. It would take under five minutes to walk there. A few minutes in the blistering cold could mean a warm place to wait out the next thirty minutes.

I’m a people person. I talk to passers-by and smile at strangers. The year before, when I was lost in the middle of no where, with no cell reception, I went door-to-door until someone helped me with directions. When my friend hit black ice and swerved into a ditch, we walked down the lane to the nearest house and two friendly men helped dig us out. But this time was different—I had an uneasy feeling in my gut. I trust those feelings. I stayed and rubbed my fingers together, breathing on them to stay warm. This time I’d freeze.

My phone battery was at 20%. I had to save the last bit of battery in case Evan needed to call again. I put my phone away and closed my eyes.

The knock on Oliver’s window startled me. I lifted my head.

Evan was standing outside the Jeep, holding the much-needed coolant. He topped me up. I turned the key and started the ignition. Oliver shook but settled down after a minute.

“Think you are okay to drive home? We’ll meet there and I’ll take Oliver to the mechanic. I’ll drive right behind you.”

I drove ten minutes before the Jeep erupted in a cloud of white smoke. I couldn’t see and swerved into what I correctly guessed to be a driveway. A man came running out of the house, having heard the screaming engine. He asked if we were alright. He was a mechanic with a shop in his garage. We rolled Oliver in and haven’t had engine problems since.

I was thrilled but completely unaware the most fortunate part of that day was not this amazing coincidence.

Three weeks later, a man selling an item on the internet was abducted and murdered. He was randomly targeted. The police arrested the accused killer, who has been charged with murdering three people. They found a kiln and human remains at the house. Because of solid evidence against the accused, there will be no pre-trial hearing. They are proceeding directly to trial.

Months later, I was driving through the same village with a friend. She looked around and then pointed at a house.

“Hey, you remember that guy who killed those people? He lives there.”

I saw the house in my peripheral vision. The sun was shining, the air clear and the grass green, but my mind still saw that house through icy pellets and white wind. I couldn’t turn my head from staring at the opposite side of the street, the lot where I broke down.

I’m not afraid of taking the highway now.