#highway roadside assistance panhandle

[juniorsroadsideservice]

Juniors Roadside Service

Address:

Amarillo, Texas, 79109, USA

Phone:

(806) 410-4839

Website:

Email:

Juniorc3ra@gmail.com

Description:

Juniors Roadside Service is a premier provider of comprehensive roadside aid across the Texas Panhandle. With decades of experience, we excel in assisting both personal cars and specialized heavy-duty vehicles like 18-wheelers and concrete mixers. Our range of services includes tire replacements, battery jumpstarts, fuel deliveries, and more. Our dedicated team, renowned for its professionalism and rapid response, serves various areas including Amarillo, Canyon, Dumas, Hereford, Stratford, Borger, Pampa, and many other towns. With a strong reputation for reliability and a superb customer service, we are ready to assist whenever you need us. Serving both the English and Spanish-speaking communities, we're proud to announce: Hablamos Español

Hours: 

Monday – Saturday 8:00am - 10:00pm, Sunday – CLOSED

Owner Name:

Junior Cera

Social Media Links:

[coreymichaelsmithson]

An Explosion Near The Continental Divide

It's amazing, what a little pressure will do.

After twelve years of keeping its cool, Pamela's radiator finally had too much, and it blew up on a quiet residential street in Boulder. My friend and I were just about to begin our five-day journey through the Rockies and southeastern Utah, something we had been planning for months. One mile out from home base, though, as we were driving towards the closest gas station, Pamela began to overheat. Worried about the climbing temperature gauge, and not liking the hissing sound coming from below her bonnet, I tried to limp her to a nearby mechanic. But the poor dear just didn't make it. Her radiator exploded like a bomb. I felt the concussive force of the blast through the steering wheel, and suddenly everything shuddered to a halt. Steam spewed from her grille. We barely managed to pull her over to the curb, and as we stepped out onto the street I could see that we had left a long green slick of coolant behind us. As far as breakdowns go, though, we were incredibly fortunate … we were still in a big city, still had cell phone service, we weren't injured or stranded in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, too, I had purchased AAA insurance beforehand. After requesting roadside assistance, I then called five auto shops. None of them could help us in a reasonable time frame; most were booked up for at least a week. Our tow-truck driver, in a small but significant act of generosity, took us to a second repair shop when the first was too busy. Seeing Pamela get lifted onto the tow truck was a truly heartbreaking sight. I patted her rear bumper and said, perhaps not so convincingly, "It's okay, girl, we'll get you all fixed up."

The mechanic, who was very thorough and helpful, came back with some grim news: the entire radiator and cooling system would have to be replaced. In addition to shattering the plastic housing of the radiator, the explosion tore apart several of the car's aging hoses. The total bill came to nearly $800, which was a little over one-third of the purchase price of the car itself. I gulped, closed my eyes, and nodded.

Rather than risk heading to the desert in an exploding minivan, my friend decided to rent us a car for the next few days. A new plan took shape: as soon as the shop finished with the necessary repairs, we would park Pamela temporarily in Boulder, and continue the desert leg of our trip in the rental. It all seemed pretty hunky-dory … we'd get colder air conditioning, newer tires, some peace of mind. To kill some time while waiting for Pamela to get all doctored up, my friend and I took a little morning jaunt up to Estes Park, a quaint but expensive village nestled among the forests of Rocky Mountain National Park. We ate a delicious breakfast, and drove by the Stanley Hotel, one of those grand old white elephants from a bygone era, the kind of place with lots of wings and gables and fussy bits. It was the basis for The Overlook in Stephen King's "The Shining", if that tells you anything.

The small highways leading into and out of the town are truly marvels of engineering; they hug the banks of raging rivers, twist between towering cliffs of rock, and run through short but intimidating tunnels. Looking at the striated surfaces of the red boulders, I could imagine the toothy squealing sound they would make if rubbed together … if, say, by an earthquake or volcanic eruption. These roads are tight, and challenging to drive, but they are visually stunning. The reds pulse and glow in the afternoon light.

Unfortunately, Pamela's radiator was not the only thing that blew up in Boulder. Following a baffling communication breakdown, my friend abruptly canceled the remainder of our time together, to my astonishment and grief. After paying the mechanic, picking up my car, and dumping my former co-pilot off at his sister's place, I drove away from Boulder with tears in my eyes and a heart full of shards. I cannot even bring myself to describe how painful, senseless, and profound this disappointment felt. You can replace a radiator, but you cannot replace a brotherhood. This wound will hurt for a very long time.

After a long crying jag by the side of a creek, I shook myself off and pressed on. My road continues, after all, with or without another passenger. And Colorado, which had been so cruel and demanding thus far, now seemed to be eager to make it up to me. The highways were becoming increasingly easy to navigate, with frequent and generous turnouts. Finally, I could stop and take pictures of what I was seeing … though no photographs can really do justice to the sweeping majesty of these vistas.

If you are driving west across the Great Plains, The Rocky Mountains erupt from the prairie so abruptly, so steeply, that they just don't seem realistic. From a distance, they look like several layers of torn blue paper lain across the scene, perpendicular to the horizon. You're going through these vast expanses of flat land, flat and spare and seemingly endless … and then suddenly, "BLAM!" there are mountains. Big ones. And once you are deep within these mountains, some further surprises await you.

The area of Colorado known as South Park is an elevated grassland situated 10,000 feet above sea level. Imagine an enormous meadow, held aloft between the peaks of several snow-capped mountains. The meadow sweeps up the mountainsides in broad strokes of gold and green; it almost seems like someone took a giant spatula and smooshed some cake frosting up the sides of a pan. Bighorn sheep, elk, and antelope wander the fields. The surrounding peaks add a sense of scale, so that the high flats seem even more tremendous than the wide-open expanses to the east. Near Wilkerson Pass (9,507 feet above sea level) I stood at a split-rail fence and watched a soul-stirring sunset over the distant summits. For a time, I could set aside my disappointment, and thank the world for providing me with so much beauty.

Over the past several weeks, I had spent so long in the prairies of Oklahoma and Texas, crossing the panhandles of both states, taking in the huge heart-rending emptiness of it all, that this new verticality has come as a shock to my system. Even Pamela's engine seems to struggle with the reduced oxygen levels. The heaviness and sharpness of the exposed rock, along with the tall pines, makes this country seem light years away from the Plains. It is a severe place; the immense pressures of shifting continental plates have thrust these forms into the air. These mountains are the embodiment of opposing forces.

On the drive from Amarillo, Texas up to Boulder, Colorado, which is a very long and Zen-like journey, I saw some incredible and unexpected things. I saw evidence of tornadoes that had passed through: trees twisted and snapped, missing roofs, spiraling scars across the cornfields. I saw lots of rusted cars, busted barns, roadside crosses, cowboy churches, tent revivals, rodeo posters, windmills with bent blades, and two different pairs of donkeys doing the dirty deed. Now, as I'm heading south and downhill, things are rapidly changing. I'm beginning to see the first signs of the coming desert … cliff dwellings, adobe and exposed beams, scrubby trees, hillsides crinkled up like dumplings. A new landscape lies ahead. I'm looking forward to New Mexico.

Near this area, the Continental Divide marks the point where water either flows towards the east or the west. It only seems suitable that in this place I should feel so divided about where to live next. Both Washington State and Missouri, the two most obvious and accessible choices, come with significant and complex issues. Pamela's blowup and the hurtful desertion of my friend (both of which had significant financial impacts) are now forcing me to make a decision sooner than I would like. All I can do at this point is trust … trust my poor patched-up car, trust myself, and trust in the mysterious workings of fate. The road goes on, for now. ***

Unexpected blowouts happen. If you are enjoying my writing, and want to travel even further with me, please consider throwing a few bucks towards the “Oh crap, what was that sound?” fund. As always, thank you for your support and encouragement! GoFundMe: https://www.gofundme.com/in-search-of-spacious-skies PayPal: coreysmithson@hotmail.com

[kakoliberlin]

Celebrate the Gopher Tortoise this April 10th!

Step Aside Gator Fans: It’s the Gopher Tortoise’s Time to Shine

The state of Florida conjures up images of alligators, panthers, dolphins and many other charismatic wildlife that call the Sunshine State home.  One animal that often gets overlooked on that list, is the uniquely named gopher tortoise.  The gopher tortoise is also one of Florida’s finest species, but less people know about this truly fascinating creature that almost exclusively makes its home in Florida.  For this reason, the Gopher Tortoise Council and the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission have designated April 10, 2017 as Florida Gopher Tortoise Day.

The goal is to increase awareness, appreciation and protection for the gopher tortoise, an amazing, long-living (their average lifespan is 60 years), gentle reptile and its dwindling habitat.  The gopher tortoise is listed as threatened in the state of Florida which represents the largest portion of its habitat range.  Once found widely throughout the southeastern United States, habitat loss has all but driven the gopher tortoise out of these neighboring states and into its last stronghold in the state of Florida where it faces new threats of development, habitat loss, fragmentation and degradation.

What’s in a Name?

You might be wondering “what kind of animal is a gopher tortoise?” It sounds like something cooked up in the lab of a mad scientist fusing animal species together.  Alas, the gopher tortoise is not some half fuzzy, half scaly creature out of science fiction, but its name, albeit strange, is actually quite accurate for this unique reptile.

Gopher tortoises are so named because of their ability to dig large, deep burrows—essentially, they are tortoises with the impressive digging skills of a gopher. They have strong, sturdy back legs that provide stability and specialized shovel-like front legs that enable their skillful digging and burrow engineering. Their burrows are like subterranean villages that often have multi-directional tunnels. One such burrow, excavated in the Florida Panhandle, was recorded at 65 feet long and 26 feet deep!

The gopher tortoise burrows are so impressive their neighbors are clamoring to move in. Their burrows play an indispensable role in their native ecosystem and are often used as shelter by other species particularly during the chilly winter months or as temporary refuge during wildfires.

Because their burrows provide shelter to over 350 other species of wildlife, called “commensals,” gopher tortoises are considered a keystone species. Among the commensal species that take up residence in the tortoise’s burrow are the gopher frog, Florida mouse, Eastern indigo snake, burrowing owl and hundreds of invertebrates like beetles and crickets. Without the gopher tortoise, many of these species would not survive.

From Sun Helmets to Stew: A Brief History of the Gopher Tortoise in Florida

Gopher tortoises occur throughout the state and people may frequently encounter them in suburban neighborhoods, along roadways, and in many public recreational lands. This amazing reptile has been roaming the upland pine forests, sandhills and even coastal dunes of the deep south for thousands of years.

Throughout its storied history in Florida, the gopher tortoise has served many useful purposes. Ancient Native Americans had a monetary system using the gopher tortoise shell.  Shells were also used as baskets, pots and even sun helmets. Tortoises were a reliable source of food during the Great Depression of the 1930s, when there was little else to eat. Of course, historically these so-called ‘Hoover chickens’ were much more plentiful 90 years ago. Today, Florida’s fast-paced development and the threats of habitat destruction, fragmentation and degradation have left the gopher tortoise population a fraction of what it used to be.

In Harm’s Way

Despite our seemingly insatiable desire to invade and develop key habitat for the gopher tortoise and other wildlife, the gopher tortoise is tolerant of humans and even makes a good neighbor. For the most part they keep to themselves, holed up in their burrows. Beginning in the warmer spring months, they become increasingly active, leaving their underground burrows in search of spring greenery to eat and, in many cases, seeking out a mate. This is when we are more likely to encounter these unassuming neighbors who want nothing more than to go about their business at a comfortable pace (as tortoises are want to do). In this critical time of potential interaction between tortoises and humans, we can be vigilant and help our friendly reptilian neighbors by:

Watching out for a tortoise crossing the highway and, if it’s safe to do so, picking it up and placing it on the roadside in the direction it was heading.

If you move a tortoise don’t put this terrestrial animal in the water. Even though they can be found in coastal dune systems, they cannot swim a stroke.

Supporting highway crossings that allow tortoises and other wildlife to safely cross busy roadways.

Supporting Defenders’ work in Florida and throughout the country. Defenders has a very active gopher tortoise conservation advocacy program in Florida.

How Defenders is Helping the Gopher Tortoise

Defenders supports gopher tortoise conservation by monitoring legislation, participating in policy workgroups, coordinating with state and federal wildlife agencies to protect and restore habitat, and educating the public about the importance of these amazing animals.

The Defenders Southeast region staff actively serves on the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission’s (FWC) Gopher Tortoise Technical Assistance Group that provides scientific  information and technical assistance to FWC staff concerning regulations, management and conservation of gopher tortoises. They are also involved with several other working groups throughout Florida, like the Gopher Tortoise Candidate Conservation Committee, as well as other southeastern states.  Through these groups, they work to explore, coordinate and address the best ways to protect, restore and preserve suitable habitat.  One critical ecosystem Defenders focuses its efforts on is the preservation of longleaf pine wire grass, a preferred habitat for the gopher tortoise.

Celebrate the Gopher Tortoise this April 10th!

You can help celebrate Florida’s only native tortoise (in fact, the only native tortoise east of the Mississippi River) by hosting an event in your community, asking your local City or County Commission to officially adopt April 10th as Gopher Tortoise Day, and/or by educating others on the importance of protecting gopher tortoises and their habitat.

    To learn more about this special tortoise or the Second Annual Florida Gopher Tortoise Day visit our gopher tortoise fact page.

        The post Celebrate the Gopher Tortoise this April 10th! appeared first on Defenders of Wildlife Blog.

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