Chapter 30. Where There Is No Ceiling, the Stars Come Out.
Chapter 30. Where There Is No Ceiling, the Stars Come Out.
“Jason...? What’s wrong with the truck?”
The excitement on Noah’s face quickly gave way to confusion.
“Hard to say. It might have overheated from climbing that long grade, or it could be something else. Let’s check the engine bay first.”
I quickly got out of the truck and opened the hood.
Hmm, there’s no sign that the coolant boiled over, and no sweet smell either. No white smoke...
Coolant is transparent, so leaks can be hard to detect, which is why they deliberately add ingredients that give it a sweet smell.
The temperature gauge had also stayed normal, so it seemed safe to say it was not a cooling problem.
Judging by how it kept starting, then choking and sputtering like it could not breathe...
“Feels like a MAF sensor issue.”
Even without using my special ability, I made the diagnosis instinctively. That much came from the experience I had gained working with Donnelly.
“MAF?”
Before I knew it, Noah had come over and buried his head into the engine bay beside me, his eyes shining.
“Yeah. It’s the sensor that measures how much air is going into the engine. I think the sudden change in altitude made the air thinner, and the temperature dropped fast too, so that probably triggered it. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence and the thing’s life happened to run out right now.”
In fact, sudden MAF sensor failure was a chronic issue with Vortec engines from this era.
Especially when it died like this with no warning signs at all, there was a good chance the internal circuit had failed.
“Uh... then how do you fix the sensor?”
Right. That was the real problem.
If it had been overheating, we could have let the engine cool down for a while and topped it off with bottled water just to get moving again, but if the sensor circuit failed, replacement was the only answer.
“...I probably have one I bought in advance as a spare.”
I casually fed Noah that line and opened the bag I had tossed onto the back seat.
Then—
[1999 Chevrolet Silverado 1500]
Vortec 5300 Engine (LM7) MAF Sensor = 11 (C)
Buy.
Ding!
[Order complete. Item stored in Inventory.]
Coins Deducted: -11 (C)
Remaining Coins: 21,764 (C)
[Withdraw]
Tap—
Naturally, I pulled a MAF sensor and a flathead screwdriver out of the bag.
“Ahem, Noah, want to try changing this yourself?”
I handed him the sensor and the tool, clearing my throat for no reason.
“Huh? Really? I can do it?”
“Yeah. I’ll walk you through it from the side. Just do exactly what I say.”
Replacing a MAF sensor was an easy job. You just removed it and plugged the new one back into place. It was not particularly dangerous, either.
“Oh yeah! Thanks, Jason!”
But Noah looked more excited than he had at anything else he had seen all day. Was this really that thrilling?
“All right, this part right here is where the MAF sensor sits. Think of it like the entrance where the air goes into the engine.”
I pointed at the short cylindrical part attached midway along the intake hose.
Noah looked like he was trying not to miss a single word I said. He was concentrating so hard he did not even blink.
“First, make sure the engine’s off, then press the tab on the connector at the side and pull it out. Don’t twist it. Just pull it straight free.”
Click—
Noah did exactly as told, wearing work gloves so dirty they barely seemed worth putting on anymore.
“Next, loosen the hose clamp. You don’t need to take it all the way off. Just loosen it enough for it to come free.”
His hands were still small, so even in the tight space, he could turn the screwdriver easily enough.
“Now remove the old one and put the new one in the same way. Make sure the airflow direction is correct, and tighten the band firmly so there’s no unmetered air leak. Go ahead.”
“Okay.”
In reality, it was such a simple job that I could have done it myself in five minutes. Of course, Noah finished it quickly too, without much trouble.
“All right then, shall we start it up and see if you did it right?”
I said it like a joke, but the moment he heard that, Noah’s face tightened with nervousness.
I found that funny, so I deliberately turned the key a little more slowly.
Krr-krrr, vroom—
Naturally, the engine fired up cleanly on the first try.
“Noah, come here a second.”
Noah came dashing over to the driver’s side.
It felt like I had suddenly gained one more obedient puppy.
“Look at the RPM needle here. See how it’s still shaking a little? That’s the ECU learning the new airflow. It’ll probably settle down pretty soon.”
“So... does that mean it’s really fixed?”
“Yeah. You fixed it properly.”
“Ohhh! Really? No way. I can’t believe I fixed this myself.”
Noah looked deeply moved by the fact that a truck he had repaired with his own hands was running again.
“All right then, get in. Let’s go find a place to sleep.”
The Grand Canyon was not that far from here, but it was already past evening.
And in my plan, the Grand Canyon was best seen at sunrise anyway.
From this point on, the I-17 we had come up on was finished.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned the wheel straight onto US-180 North.
Most tourists took Highway 64 because it was faster, but US-180 was the road where you could truly take in the magnificent ridgeline of the San Francisco Peaks.
“Uh... but Jason. Weren’t we supposed to be going to our lodging now? It looks like we’ve already passed through all of town.”
Just as Noah said, I had boldly driven right past Flagstaff, and I pointed to the road sign that had started to come into view in the distance.
[Coconino National Forest – Entering]
“That’s where we’re staying tonight.”
America is a country that loves freedom.
And it loves it to such an extent that, on national forest land and BLM land, anyone can camp freely.
(Translator’s Note: BLM land — Public land managed by the U.S. Bureau of Land Management. In many such areas, dispersed camping is allowed outside developed campgrounds, subject to local rules and fire restrictions.)
There are no fences and no caretakers, so if you find a place you like, you can immediately spend the night out in nature.
Before settling in Arizona, when I wandered all over America, I had done it more times than I could count.
Noah, though, had never camped before, and he looked more worried than pleased.
“Um, Jason. Won’t it be really uncomfortable sleeping outside?”
“Yeah, it will.”
“And... there are wild animals too, right?”
“Since we’re up north, probably coyotes or elk. And maybe black bears too, though we probably won’t run into one.”
“...What about the bathroom?”
“There’s a shovel in back. We’ll dig a hole and use that.”
“H... haha...”
Noah laughed awkwardly.
Camping was, of course, uncomfortable. It was hot in the daytime, cold at night, and hard to wash properly.
It did not even compare to a motel room with blasting air conditioning or heating, a shower, and a private toilet.
“But still, if we came all the way to a place this beautiful, sleeping under the stars is better than sleeping under a motel ceiling, isn’t it?”
“...Okay. It’s already been pretty fun so far.”
Noah nodded reluctantly.
Stepping away from what was familiar and challenging something new.
Without even realizing it, the walls that had built up inside him were slowly starting to come down.
I kept driving along Route 180, then turned off onto a side road that looked suitable.
Forest Road 151.
It was a road name I had never seen before.
“Whine?”
At the jolting of the unpaved road, Dusty sprang to his feet.
After going another ten minutes or so, we came upon a cozy stretch of flat ground wrapped on all sides by pine trees like a folding screen. There was even a rough stone fire ring, as though someone had camped here before.
“Good. Let’s use this place.”
I parked the truck at a suitable spot.
And the moment I opened the door, a deep earthy smell rushed into my nose.
The smell of damp soil, wet from the August monsoon rains. The thing locals called petrichor.
“Inhale... exhale...”
Noah seemed to catch the scent too, because he opened his chest wide and drew in a deep breath.
“The air is seriously clean. And... it feels kind of like we’re on an adventure.”
Whether he gave up easily or had actually started finding camping interesting, I could not tell, but Noah was definitely beginning to accept the situation.
“All right, the very first thing we do now is build a fire. Once the sun fully sets, the temperature’s going to drop fast.”
A kid born and raised in Phoenix all his life might know what cool weather felt like, but not real cold.
Which was probably why he had shown up for the Grand Canyon wearing shorts like that.
I unloaded two folding camping chairs and the cooler from the truck bed, then pulled out a Pendleton blanket and tossed it to Noah.
(Translator’s Note: Pendleton — A well-known American textile brand closely associated with wool blankets and Western-style patterns.)
“For now, wrap yourself in this.”
Pendleton blankets were practically a symbol of the American West. They were expensive for blankets, but the quality and warmth were so good you could hand them down for generations.
Noah was already shivering a little from the chill, and he hurriedly grabbed the blanket.
“If we’re making a fire, should I go pick up some branches or something?”
Then, perhaps feeling awkward just standing there, he came over and asked.
“No. Wood you find in the forest looks good, but it holds too much moisture. If you try to make a fire with that, the smoke will choke you to death. I bought firewood, so we’ll use that today.”
I dumped the pile of firewood down in front of the stone fire ring.
“Watch carefully what I’m doing now.”
Then I sat down in a chair and started shaving thin curls off a log with my multitool knife.
I was making what’s called a feather stick. The name sounded grand, but it was really just tinder.
(Translator’s Note: Feather stick — A bushcraft fire-starting aid made by shaving thin curls into a stick so they catch fire easily.)
Still, when you made one of these, it somehow made you feel as if you had really been thrown out into the wild.
“Now you try it. If you make about five or six, that’ll be enough.”
After showing him briefly, I immediately handed it over to Noah.
“Ohhh... okay!”
While he focused on the wood, I turned on a flashlight and checked the surrounding area for hazards.
Just as habit dictated, I divided it into sectors and looked over everything carefully.
Visibility’s wide open, and nothing looks dangerous.
“I’m done. Should I put these in the fire ring now?”
Breaking me out of my brief thoughts, Noah called out.
“Yeah. Just add the fire starter.”
I placed a bundle of oil-soaked cloth in the middle, then stacked the feather sticks and the firewood over it in order.
Whoosh—
The flame caught on the cloth, then spread to the feather sticks, swelling in an instant.
“Huh? It’s already warm. The fire’s still small.”
“That’s the power of fire. Which is exactly why you have to be even more careful about wildfires.”
Fortunately, because it had rained recently, there were no fire restrictions in place today.
If the dry weather had gone on much longer, a campfire would have been out of the question.
Grrrrrrk—
A loud noise came from Noah’s stomach.
It did not feel like it had been that long since lunch.
Clunk—
“Let’s eat dinner.”
As the fire greedily consumed oxygen and had already grown as large as a person’s face, I set a ten-inch cast-iron skillet over it.
“Oh, what’s for dinner?”
He whipped his head around at once and asked.
“These. Grilled.”
Instead of giving a long explanation, I held up some plump sausages, bacon, and eggs.
Sizzle—
Once the pan had heated properly, I put the sausages on first.
With the gentle sound of fat splattering, a rich savory smell spread through the air in an instant.
Next came the thick-cut bacon.
There was a big line on the package saying it had been smoked over hickory wood.
Once the bacon began shrinking in the heat, I cracked fresh eggs in last.
Crack, ssssk—
For seasoning, basic salt and pepper were enough.
“Mmff.”
Dusty, who had finished going around and checking everything, came over and dropped his rear against me with a neat little thump.
Judging by his expression, he was starting to get hungry too.
“Here. Your food.”
I opened one of the canned foods that was easy to carry while traveling, and he enthusiastically buried his face in it.
Pop, pop—
Before I knew it, the skins of the sausages had started to split open. The sausages, bacon, and eggs were all cooked at exactly the right moment.
“Try this first.”
I handed Noah a sausage speared on a stainless steel fork.
“Oh... my...! Jason, what kind of sausage is this? I’ve never had anything this good before.”
Noah’s eyes went round, and he made a huge fuss that did not suit him at all.
...This is just Johnsville.
I quietly hid the sausage package behind me.
Then I picked out one that was perfectly cooked and bit into it.
Pop—
The casing burst in my mouth, and hot, salty juices washed over my tongue.
“Yeah, it’s good. Nice and savory.”
It was a simple, familiar taste, the kind I had always eaten.
But out here in nature, with a campfire in front of you, even a sausage like this could become something special to someone.
“Haaa...”
Apparently somewhat full now, Noah leaned deeply back into his chair and let out a long breath.
I too quietly stroked Dusty at the scruff of the neck as he lay in front of the fire.
“Uncle Jason.”
“Yeah.”
“This camping thing... is way more fun than I thought it would be.”
“Yeah.”
“And... you too, Jason.”
“...Yeah.”
By then, black night had settled over everything around us.
With not a single artificial light anywhere, the stars shone across the sky in a band.