A simple, 10-hour road trip to Worlds of Fun in Kansas City, Mo. on Oct. 9 could not have been more difficult for four Blueprint editors and an editor’s significant other.

Frank Pribyl, editor in chief and photographer; Staci Edwards, our editor’s girlfriend; Cecelia Orwig, assistant editor; Brian Hernandez, layout editor; and Martin Gakuria, Web site editor, planned a wonderful day of photography and research on the Patriot, a $14 million roller coaster under construction at Worlds of Fun.

The drive to Kansas City and research at the park went smoothly, and Frank was able to take many construction photographs of the Patriot. Everyone except me rode the roller coasters because I’m seven months pregnant. Worlds of Fun was kind enough to provide us with free press passes, and we used them.

On the drive home to Lincoln, just five miles outside Kansas City, my car began experiencing technical difficulties. I’d had trouble with my battery three weeks earlier and had bought a new one for $30, which an employee at a local auto shop told me would solve the problem. I discovered later that Wal-Mart provided this diagnostic for free.

My ABS light came on, followed by the red battery light.

Next, the headlights dimmed.

Finally, all dials fell to zero and the transmission locked into fourth gear.

As the fuel injector began to fail, we knew we were in trouble.

Needless to say, I was hormonal and frustrated, so we “calmly” searched for the next exit and wound up at a truck stop just outside Faucett, Mo.We inspected the damage and concluded that the car had a dead battery, and we needed help dealing with the problem.

One man, who was walking to eat at the nearby Mexican restaurant, poked around in the engine and told us our battery was dead. Thanks.

The next man, a semi-trailer driver, offered us a ride to Lincoln in his truck bed. We declined on the grounds of his creepy grin.

Finally, the gas station attendant was able to get in touch with a local mechanic. The mechanic came and gave us a quick diagnostic. He came with a spare battery, but instead told me the alternator was no longer functional. His daughter offered to drive us to St. Joseph, Mo., to stay the night at a motel, and he would fix my car in the morning. We told him we would discuss the idea, as this would be an expensive repair to do so far from home. He left us his phone number.

After a full two hours of weighing our choices, Frank opted to purchase a $40 battery charger pack, in hopes of recharging the battery every five miles, all the way back to Lincoln.

Staci and I had work the next morning.

Brian had a midterm. Everyone had class.

Luckily, Stacy and I were able to convince Frank of the dangers of driving at night without headlights, dials or a functional transmission. We compromised and chose to take the interstate for the five-minute drive to St. Joseph, with the hope that a jump start from two young men in a pickup would keep us running.

Initially, we left Kansas City at 5:30 p.m. It was now approaching 9:30 p.m.

The sky was black, and the temperature had dropped. To conserve energy, we kept the heat, lights and traction control off. Less than two minutes outside Faucett, the lights went off again, and the fuel injector faltered. Frank was driving this time, and he shoulder of a bridge. Thanks, again.

He tried to jump the battery, but it only got us to the other side of the bridge. Frank jumped the battery again, and we took the next available exit, “St. Joseph Downtown.”

Apparently, no one ever heard of placing the “Downtown” exit in downtown, and we soon found ourselves in pitch black, rural Missouri, with no headlights, and no way of letting any other drivers know we existed.

Frustrated, Frank ignored the warning on his battery charger, “Do not use as a battery,” attached it to the dead battery, and closed the hood on it. We drove 10 mph until we found the nearest Wal-Mart.

Since my battery was less than a month old, Wal-Mart replaced it for free and ran a quick test to check my alternator.

The alternator was pronounced dead at 9:58 p.m., two minutes before the Wal-Mart automotive department was scheduled to close for the night.

Even with the new battery installed, the attendant told me the car would get us to a local motel that night and a repair shop in the morning but would not survive the drive to Lincoln. We stayed at a Motel 6, waiting to take the car to Midas in the morning.

Approximately 18 hours and a $397 Midas bill later, we were back on the interstate with Brian singing “On the Road Again.”

I’ve never been happier to see that simple sign emblazoned with “Nebraska – the good life.”