It was to be the big “out West” family trip to the Rockies when our kids were early teens. The VW van we had planned to use quit running at home, a small town of 2200 people, 100 miles from the nearest VW dealer. We called the local mechanic. His diagnosis was "It ain’t gettin’ no “far”(for northen folks that’s “fire,”) With time running out, we opted for making the trip in our two year old Toyota 2 door liftback.(It was at least air-conditioned.) Second day of the trip the CB burned out. Third day, daughter got food poisoning. Several days followed that were truly fun days in Colorado. Yellowstone was great except for the 28 degree nights in our tents.(Mid July) WE had to replace one headlamp before starting home across South Dakota. Park rangers got us for a picnic out of picnic permissible grounds at Mount Rushmore. Halfway across S.D., dead center of the state, the water pump gave up the ghost. WE were towed into the county seat town of Kennebec, population 220. The parts were to come from 300 miles away so we spent three nights in this truly hospitable town. They actually made us citizens since we were there so long. We finally got on the road home and made it back to Alabama without further calamity. The kids were at that age where their parents embarrass them easily, so I told them that we would one day look at this trip and laugh about these semi-disasters. They are now in the forties and have not laughed yet!
My trip from hell was with my friend Nick in his 1963 Alfa-Romeo 1600 convertible couple. It was in 1968 when I was 20. The car had just been lovingly rebuilt by Nick, and he proposed a road trip from San Diego to Fort Worth, Texas so he could show off his pride and joy (which his father referred to as “that red, wop sports car”) to his relatives back home.
The outbound trip to Fort Worth went flawlessly. We breezed along at 70-75 all the way, making it in less than a day. I caught a plane up to Arkansas to visit my grandparents, and flew back to Fort Worth a week later to rejoin Nick for the drive back to San Diego.
Nick met me at the airport driving his aunt’s car. He explained that something had gone wrong with the 1st-2nd gear shifter mechanism in the tranny, and he didn’t want to drive the car around town too much, starting in 3rd gear, for fear of burning out the clutch. No problem, he’d fix it after we got back to San Diego.
The next day, shortly before we were to depart, the starter motor failed. Again, no problem. We were 20 years old, strong, and stupid. Pushing the Alfa fast-enough to pop-start it in 3rd was a minor inconvenience. So, we hit the road.
Somewhere in west Texas, the water temp gauge started climbing ominously. We stopped several times adding water and letting the engine cool, but the problem got progressively worse. In Van Horn, Texas, we determined that the head gasket had blown. This was not a good place to find Alfa parts; but El Paso, 120 miles down the road was. We decided to press on.
To make it 120 miles with a blown head gasket, we developed the “coasting technique”. We’d floor it and accelerate up to 75 or 80, then shut the engine off and coast in neutral until we slowed to 20 or so, and then pop the clutch (remember, our starter was shot) and repeat the process. With occasional stops to add water, we made to El Paso about 9PM, and crashed at the first flea-bag motel we found.
The next day we found the ONLY Alfa shop between Fort Worth and San Diego and changed the head gasket. They barely finished before closing time, and I recall Nick and I helping the mechanic hook up the cam chain and reinstall the valve covers in the last minutes before closing-time. We drove out at 5PM as they were locking up.
Our success was short-lived. Before we got out of downlown El Paso, the temp started rising again. This time we found the root-cause of the problem - the radiator was seriously plugged with crud. Nick had a propane torch and few ratty scraps of solder in his toolbox, so there in a dark driveway in downtown El Paso, by the light of a flashlight, we unsoldered the top radiator tank, picked out the crud with a piece of wire, and then soldered it back. It leaked a little, but was serviceable and we hit the road about 8PM.
The car ran cool. We were elated - we’d be in San Diego by morning. Our elation lasted 30 miles. Just outside Las Cruces NM, the generator light came on. We weren’t going to make it far with no generator running the lights at night, so we coasted into a gas station on the outskirts of town and popped the hood.
By this time we were fried. It was dark and cold as hell. We couldn’t figure out problem, and as we stood back numbly looking under the hood; the two hood hinges suddenly sheared, and the hood slid off the car crashing to the ground. At that point, the utter absurdity of all of this struck us and we just started laughing.
We gave up for the night, and slept in the car for an hour or two at a time, periodically taking breaks inside the station to drink coffee and warm up in front of the heater with the attendant.
The next morning, being stumped by the generator problem, we had the station fast-charge the battery and hit the road. We’d stop for another fast charge every time we filled up with gas. We figured if we could make San diego before dark and had to run the headlights again, we’d be OK.
Then, in the middle of Arizona, fan belt shredded. Nick took off hitchhiking for a replacement, and returned a couple hours later with two belts. The longer one just fit with both of us prying together with big screwdrivers to shoehorn it on.
We drove on, but now there was no way we could make San Diego before dark, and we faced sleeping another night in some god-forsaken place because we didn’t have enough money left for a motel.
Then, mysteriously, the generator started working again. We drove on all the way to San Diego, arriving about 10PM. We were both weary beyond belief, and as Nick was driving through town to my house he ran a stop sign that he didn’t see, and a cop pulled him over and gave him a ticket.
The perfect ending to the perfect car trip from hell.
Postscript to Tom and Ray:
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You’re probably thinking: “This guy made this stuff up”. The story is absolutely true. I’ve been thinking of sending it to you for years, and your Car Trip From Hell competition finally prompted me to do it. Where else could one gloat over such a spectacular failure.
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The generator gremlin subsequently revealed itself to be a loose piece of solder rolling around in the newly-replaced voltage regulator.
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Could somebody make something like this up?
Cheers;
Scott Morton
See the attached file.
Many moons ago 3 of us decided we wanted to fulfill our dream of skiing the Rockies. Two of my friends were very mechanical (I am not) and one especially so with VW’s.
They decided that they would get a VW van running for the trip. This was 1976 and they bought a mid 60’s van for $75. It had no engine. Then they got a great deal on a bug, $25, it had been in a fire.
In one weekend (bitter cold, we lived in upstate NY), they put the engine in the van and got another friend (who’s dad owned a car shop) to put an inspection sticker on this heap.
We set out in the freezing cold. I remember putting on all my ski clothes in an attempt to keep warm. The only heat was from our bodies. The 3 of us sitting in the front, huddled together, going maybe 60 mph on our way out west!
I still remember the looks on the faces of people in the cars that were passing us. Total disbelief. We stopped for gas and noticed an oil leak. So we headed to a shop (eastern PA I guess) and had the valve cover gaskets (I think) replaced. I think we paid only a few dollars for this. We kept going. Next time we stopped for gas I was chosen to check the oil. I of course was not sure what to do but didn’t want to let on. I said it was ok. We left. Next thing, we’re on the PA turnpike and the oil light comes on. The VW guy gets out to go look. He comes back and says its no use, there’s oil all over the back of the van. Very luckily for us (God watches over his idiots) my oldest brother happen to be living in Wilkes-Barre PA, close to where we had landed. We made it to my brothers and stayed the night. The next day we had no choice but to head back home. We bought a case of oil and my friend buys an aluminum baking pan (like you’d make pound cake with) and some wire. He hooks this receptacle under the engine because the oil is just pouring out. We drive until the oil light comes on, pull over to the side of the highway, get under the car and remove the pan, pour the oil back into the engine, add some from the case we purchased, and head on. Repeat as necessary until arriving home. We went through the entire case of oil.
We never made it to the Rockies and I’m getting cold just thinking about the entire adventure. That spring I graduated from college and moved to WARM Texas.
I’ll never forget that trip, we all are still friends and earlier this year met in Vermont to go skiing. I didn’t see the VW van anywhere 
We left Mechanicsville,Virginia for Portland Oregon via the scenic route on Saturday June 13th,2009. We were driving a 2003 Honda Odyssey. It was purchased brand new August 2003 after we flew back from our last trip to Oregon and Our Oldsmobile Silhoette threw a rod on the way to the airport to pick us up. We have kept a very impressive maintenance schedule with the honda through the dealers service department from the beginning so we were more than confident the van was ready and able to make the trip. highlights: Smokey mountains, Sister in Kansas, Carlsbad caverns,Rozwell, Painted Desert, Petrified forest, Newspaper rock, Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, Las Vegas Strip at night. All of this in seven days. Our plan was to hit Joshua tree park Saturday Morning and then over to highway 1 up the coast. We made it 26 miles south of Las Vegas and our Van died at 11:30 p.m. We coasted over to the side and put our hazards on. Over the course of the next 8 hours we had 3 good samaratins stop and volunteer information about what they saw. A belt was coming through the guard on the left side of the motor. All 3 separately, told us it was the timing belt. We explained we had it replaced 10 months and 23 thousand miles earlier. We contacted family who gave us numbers of tow trucks to call. It was 6:45 a.m. before we saw our tow truck that could haul a family of 5 and a dog in to town with the van. We took it to a Honda dealer service department. They took us in emediatly and within the hour explained the bolt that holds the pulley that the timing belt rides on had broke in half. They also indicated that the bolt does not break unless there was stress put on it. Either by overtight, undertight or cross threading of the bolt. We called our dealer at home and they felt they could not make that call 3000 miles away. We rented a car and continued on our journey. The dealers were hashing it out at this point. We got in another day of sightseeing and landed at my uncles in Sacramento. 4 days of hankering over the phone between Nevada and Virginia Honda dealers while trying to continue the vacation. The dealer in Nevada found the engine had been ruined as well and they would be happy to install a new one for eleven thousand dollars. I needed time to think and said I would let them know. Meanwhile my dog(chihuahu) was showing signs of fatigue because he could not urinate. We took him to the vet and they gave him a cathater, antibiotics and muscle relaxers and sent him home.($350.00).Five hours later he was yelping and not peeing again. Now off to the animal ER we go. 30 or so hours later and $1600.00 We are taking him with us and he is peeing on his own sort of. The dealer in Nevada call back and say they will put a used motor in for $2500.00 We say ok and we get the Virginia dealer to pay half, after a lot of phone conversations, using the term conversations lightly. We return the first rent a car, borrow our uncles car and head to Portland Oregon to visit another sister. Spend a week with her. Bring back uncles car, rent another car and go get the van from Nevada. We leave for our home in Virginia from Las Vegas Nevada on Friday July 10th at 3:00p.m. We drive to just west of Albaqurqie and the engine light blinks 6 times then goes off. We stop to check oil, radiator fluid, make sure there is nothing noticably out of place, missing or on fire. Nothing appears out of place. We soldier on. Saturday night at 11:15 p.m. the engine light and tcs light came on and stayed on. We coasted in to a town named Ozark, Arkansas. We found a hotel, called family and got the family advice to try again in the morning. Sunday morning we headed out with the idea that it was nothing serious. We stopped at an Oreillys’ and had them check the codes for the engine light. They found 8 codes that all indicated to them missfiring. They suggested getting to the dealer as soon as we got home but felt we could travel home fairly safe. We soldiered on again. Sunday at noon until Monday at 8 a.m. we drove only stopping for gas and slowing down when the engine would buck when we exceeded 2800 rpms. Upon our arrival home we all poured ourselves into bed for the day. We took the van to our Honda dealers service department in our hometown. (the one who allegedly wrenched the bolt on the timing belt). They said a wire from the wiring harness was not fully installed and that fried the computer. Indicating the Nevada Honda shop left this undone. We contacted them and they claim not their problem. So now we are purchasing a computer for the honda in hopes that it will work again someday.
Here’s one:
In 2001, I was living in Jacksonville, FL and growing weary of the hustle and bustle of city life. Andrea, my girlfriend at the time, was living in Georgia and looking for a change as well. Together, we decided to move to the northeast, to live a dreamy country life and work on an organic farm. This was a step in a very new direction for both of us, so we planned it very carefully. We made arrangements to visit close to a dozen different farms in Pennsylvania, New York, Massachusetts, and Vermont. Since our schedules were tight, we were forced to pack the entire trip into a long weekend.
When we hit the road, we reasoned that we could get the most out of our trip if we always kept our truck moving. We planned to drive in shifts, stopping only for gas stations. While not driving, the passenger’s responsibility was to sleep and be rested enough for their next turn behind the wheel. To make it easier for the passenger to sleep, we decked out the back of our pickup truck with blankets and pillows. It was genius.
Andrea took the first driving shift and I snoozed through the Carolinas. We were well into Maryland when she finally gave up the keys. She looked tired, and I knew she needed sleep. Luckily, I was well rested. I grabbed a coffee and donut, and hit the road. Before we even reached Deleware, nature called and I had to pull over at a rest stop. Andrea had not fallen asleep yet, and in the rearview mirror I could see her sit up and look to see why we were stopping. I opened the sliding window between the cab and bed and told her I had to use the restroom. She nodded, closed her eyes, and laid back down.
I was in and out of the restroom in a snap, and hopped in the truck for my long drive through the wee hours of the night. Time flew by, as I sang along to the radio and dreamed of the great new life we were going to have together on the farm. Andrea never stirred. Even when I stopped for gas a few hours later, and I looked through the window to see if she needed anything, she never sat up. She was just curled up under the blankets and I was glad that she was sleeping so soundly because I was getting tired and knew that she would have to drive soon.
Shortly thereafter, dawn began to break. I was just passing New York City and the sight of the city skyline was dramatic in the morning light. I thought Andrea would’ve appreciated the scene and attempted to awaken her. I slid the window open and called her name, but she didn’t answer. I looked over my shoulder, but couldn’t distinguish her form underneath the blankets. It looked like she wasn’t even back there. And that’s because… she wasn’t.
When I had stopped at the rest stop in Maryland, Andrea, unbeknownst to me, decided that since I was using the restroom, she might as well use it too, so we could both be ready for a long drive without stopping. When I came out and got in the truck, I didn’t wait for her to come out because I never knew she went. Imagine her surprise when she came out of the restroom in the middle of the night and the truck was gone.
I can’t say I know what it feels like to be abandoned like that, but I can tell you how hard it is to keep your truck in your lane on the freeway when you realize that you just left your girlfriend on the side of the freeway several hundred miles away. I was nearly incapacitated with remorse for what I had done, and it was the only time in my life that I ever lost my voice from swearing too much.
At the next exit, I used a payphone to call Andrea’s roommate in Georgia for help.
When I reached the Maryland State Patrol, they were aware of my story. Andrea had called them earlier and explained her situation, and they assured her that she was just confused. So they sent a trooper out and he drove her in two circles before declaring that she was officially stuck there. She sat there alone for hours, thinking that I would call at any second. When the state patrol did finally connect me to the payphone at the rest stop, I apologized profusely. Given the circumstances, she didn’t seem very upset but asked me to waste no time in returning to pick her up. She asked if I knew which exit to take and I assured her I did, and drove shamefully fast down the freeway to reach her. After this much driving, plus the shock of what I had done, I was dazed and confused and somehow managed to get my states a little mixed up. I flew past her exit, and didn’t catch my mistake until I saw a sign saying “Welcome to Virginia”. Thankfully, my voice had returned just enough by then to lose it with another barrage of curses.
I made ANOTHER U-turn and drove north again, finally found Andrea, and resumed on our road trip minus a few stops.
It wasn’t an easy road trip, but things worked out in the end. During our tour of farms, we bonded immediately with the owners of a farm in Williamstown, MA and spent the next summer there learning all about organic farming. Andrea and I were married that fall, right in their barn, and have taken many road trips since then, with one important rule: Always take roll call before you start the car.
This road trip only lasted about 17 miles, it involves flu like symptoms, a flat tire and some curves in the road.
It all started out at work(I’m a Machinist), the morning was not kind to me in that I was feeling weak and tired. After a few trips to the mens room, I notified my supervisor that I needed to go home, while walking to my truck, (a 1970 Chevy pickup, lowered with nice size tires all around),the cramps I experienced were getting closer together, much like a woman expecting a child. Climbing into the cab of the truck, I noticed a great feeling of anxiety, because the trip home was longer than my last cramp! What to do? I had to make a run for it, and in my hurry to get home I ran off the road abit, and hit some loose gravel, I corrected my steering and continued home.
As the road home featured crossing a set of railroad tracks, I was not concerned, however, this is all it took to cause my front tire to BLOW OUT. Great, I proceeded to park in front of a Funural Home next to a gas station, and upon getting out noticed my front passanger side tire is now flat. This was to begin the most trying part of the trip.
As I got my tire iron out and proceeded to “break loose” the wheel nuts, with every urge given to the lug-nuts my cramps would overtake me, only 5 of them, one down and 4 to go. The tires off, grabbing the spair I noticed that it was flat…keeping in mind the five lug-nuts and what it did to me and my work pants, and thank God I wear briefs, I rolled the flat tire over to the gas station filled it, rolled it back to the truck and stood there looking at the spindle, knowing that I have to tighten the now loose lug-nuts with the same force I used to take them off. At this point I knew that I needed to gather all my super power as it were to finish the task at hand. Having completed the tire change, I continued on the way home.
As you remember I mentioned the curves in the road, yes an “S” curve that normally would be of no concern to me, however after the removal and replacing of the five lug-nuts, and the surrending to the many cramps, I now slid on the bench seat of my 1970 Chevy pickup much like a tissue box on your dash board. Now with only 1/2 mile away from home and the end in site a feeling of excitement over took me, remember that as a machinist, and very anal about my work, I now parked in my drive way crooked, and this was a signal to my wife that something was wrong, upon entering the house, it was very apparent I was sick. Thus ending a 17 mile of misery, and the beginning of one of the funniest stories of my life, thus far.
Bruski, Fresno, Ca
This road trip nearly cost me my life and my marriage to be. On the night before my marriage my two cousins and I decided for a bachalor night so we struck out in my 1950 Fiat 600D with a retractable rag top. After we all partied 2AM my oldest cousin took the wheel to get us back home. Nearing home I noticed that he was going to overshoot a needed turn. At that time my other cousin and I were sitting atop of the car with the rag top open and we shouted to him about the turn.Well, he whipped the wheel over and the car also whipped over mainly due to fact that there were two of us sitting on top making the car very top heavy). I was pinned under the car. My cousins lifted the car off me. Thank God the tiny car was so light. I was knocked out completely. I ended up with a brocken wrist and my cousin sitting next to me (my best man for my wedding) also got a broken wrist plus a broken finger.
I was released from the hospital the next morning and proceded over to my fiances house just hours before our wedding time to tell her the news so she wouldn’t be shocked at the church.
When she saw my arm in cast up to my elbow she blew her stack and threatened to postphone or to outright cancel the wedding completely saying how illresponsible I was and might be in the future if she married me. We did get married however but the honeymoon suffered some with my cast handicap. After the divorce, I still wonder if life whould have turned out better by not getting married to her although I did mamage to get a loving daughter and son out of it all.
They laughed nonstop when I told them later of my adventure.
Here is my almost road trip from Hell:
Back in the Mid 70’s my now ex-wife had a red 71 bug convertible. Really cute car. Ideal for the lovely weather of Orange County, CA.
I did a brake job on it one Sunday. While I was lowering down the jack, it slipped and broke off the piece that fit into the socket below the running board. No problem - I was done with the job anyway.
The next morning, the weather was beautiful and I had an important sales call to make in San Diego. Dressed in a blue pinstripe suit and black ankle high boots (Florsheim - with zippers on the inside of the ankle) that were popular in “the day”, as a reward for my labors, I set off south down Highway 5. (The significance of my attire will become evident shortly). Some where south of San Clemente, I decided I was ahead of schedule enough to take the scenic route via Highway 1 down the coast the rest of the way.
Just north of Solana Beach, Highway 1 comes down a slight hill and runs along the beach. As I descended the hill, I noticed a vibration developing in the rear. Puzzled by the origin and since it was increasing, I decided I should pull over at the bottom of the hill in the beach parking area to investigate.
As I got to the bottom and started to pull over, the left rear of the car suddenly dropped down. I looked in the rear view mirror to see the left rear wheel rolling across the road behind me, hit the curb separating the parking area from the highway, take a few bounces in the air and continue on its way towards the beach. It rolled across the sand and ended up about 10 feet or so out into the blue Pacific Ocean. I then remembered that in the minor fire-drill of the jack breaking, I forgot to torque the lug nuts after I had the car back on the ground.
Now - lets remember my attire coupled with the fact that I have no jack. I go to the edge of the water, remove my boots, roll up my pant legs to my knees and wade out into the water to retrieve the wheel. Once back on shore, I realize that in addition to no jack, I also now was minus the lug nuts.
Miraculously - the car had come to rest about 20 feet from a parked Volkswagen camper. I wandered up and down the beach (still barefoot with my pants rolled up) and finally found the owner of the camper. He took pity on me and lent me his jack.
But where do I come up with lug nuts. Just then I remember a story that had been in a newspaper column several years earlier about someone in a similar predicament that solved it by removing one nut from each of the other wheels. Armed with that memory, I was back on the road in short order, though at a reduced speed. I made my appointment with just minutes to spare and managed to close the sale.
To celebrate, on the way home, I stopped at a VW salvage year and picked up a replacement jack and 4 lug nuts.
I’ve been restoring a 1983 Chevy 4x4 van to make it the ultimate camping machine. I finished it this June, at least 30 minutes before my annual road trip to Bishop California for some rock climbing. I had 4 days of great climbing, then things started to take a turn for the worse.
To start it off, I got some sort of food poisoning and was wiped out from climbing. To take the day off and relax, a friend drove me for a site-seeing tour up the Silver Canyon road in the White Mountains. This isn’t exactly the flattest road - we were in 4 wheel low most of the time. After hitting the top at 12k feet and viewing the Patriarch Grove of Bristlecone Pines, the thunderclouds rolled in. About this time it started snowing and the temperature outside dropped. My fever from the food poisoning went the opposite way, with me shivering in a down jacket underneath two sleeping bags in the back of the van.
As my friend drove us out, the engine seemed to be revving a lot higher than we were moving. Hmm. About 1/2 mile later we were dead in the water, with cold temps, thunder, lighting and snow. The transmission, with only 14000 (of course 2000 mile past warranty) was dead. With me being the owner of the van and the only one with AAA, I was volunteered (fever and all) to hitch hike out since there was no cell service. I did make it to cell service and AAA picked us up a few hours later.
Of course the fun wasn’t over. A week later a new transmission was installed and I was all set to drive home - I was, afterall, due back at work in a couple days. For some reason, the new tranny only had 1st gear. That’s gonna’ be a slow drive back to Portland. Another week later and the 2nd (or is that 3rd) transmission as installed and actually working with all 4 gears. I did have to tear the dog house cover off and adjust the TV cable to get it to shift right, but what’s the fun of having an old van if you can’t dig into it every now and again.
I had to head to LA for some business, then back to Portland. On the way south from Bishop, the brand new AC compressor clutch that had been installed shortly before leaving on this trip (it was the 2nd) went out. I had to cut the belt that drives the AC compressor since the clutch was flopping around shaking the entire van. Southern California without AC in mid-June isn’t so fun.
I did eventually make it home, got the AC compressor replaced - and promptly bought a brand new Sprinter van.
PRELUDE
It?s October 23, 2007 and we?re looking forward to our departure for our 2nd annual Katrina VIM (volunteers in mission) Trip. We will be meeting up with the rest of our contingency in MS on November 10th. Our group of 63 is comprised of 7 members from our Church ? Newtonville Methodist, and the rest from other local Methodist Churches, who have volunteered to travel to VanCleave, MS and do whatever is necessary to rebuild and help clean up after Hurricane Katrina. After 2 years, this area is still in need of a tremendous amount of assistance. Since we have 3 weeks to get to VanCleave we will be making some ?unplanned? deviations and/or ?breakdowns? (mechanical or physical) diversions. It is MY hope that we don?t bore you with vacation like stuff, but just give you highlights of that with more meat to the VIM journey. We?ll see how that works out, since I am not the only narrator ? S.
This story is 100% true. It’s posted in our web site bobsrv.net
October 23, 2007
It?s been a long time since we have updated our log, but if I don?t get this down now, while it?s fresh in my mind, I might lose some of the impact it had on us.
As always, the best laid plans do not always fit our time schedule and our planned departure for Monday, 10/22/07 found us leaving Tuesday at 3pm. It was actually a good time to leave as we missed all the Albany NY rush hour traffic.
I have been doing a lot of work on the motor home and did all the pre-trip checks. I hooked up the tow dolly, strapped down our Saab, checked the lights and safety chains??? all was good so we headed out. The coach was running flawlessly and we were planning to driving until 7 or 8pm and spending the night at a Virginia Wal-Mart. Well???..we are parked at Wal-Mart for the night but it?s not in VA, PA or NJ. Let me explain.
We were driving south on the NYS Thruway heading towards Jew Jersey. I had found a comfortable speed of 67 mph following behind a Target tractor trailer. I knew that when he pulled into the passing lane I should also. This was important because by the time we got to Catskill (30 miles south of Albany), traffic was picking up and it was difficult to change lanes with our RV and towed vehicle.
Everything was fine, Kami (our dog) was sleeping on the couch, Sally was doing her SUDOKU games and I was deep in thought about how well the RV, tow dolly and Saab were doing. That?s when ?It? happened???Kabaam!!! and the piercing scream of squealing tires. Didn?t know what ?It? was but ?It? definitely could not be good. I looked at Sally and she looked at me ? Sally said ?What is that!? I said ?I don?t know? and looked in my rear view mirrors. Holy S____T!!!. Some A___ H____?.. in a red Saab convertible is trying to pass us???..Wait a minute??.?..That?s my Red Saab Convertible??? My Saab was trying to pass me, first on the left then on the right, it was possessed. Looking in our rear view monitor we could see the Saab cutting across the back of the motor home???.disappear then reappear cutting across in the other direction. It was swerving so violently that it was almost 180 degrees (perpendicular) to the motor home. Smoke was billowing out of the tires on the Saab and tow dolly and it wanted to tip over. That?s when Sally looked up at the monitor and said ?Oh My God?, like we or someone is going to be killed.
I took my foot off the gas peddle and tried to slowly apply the brake which only seamed to magnify the problem. As the car slammed into the back of the RV it forced the back of the Saab to swing sideways more severely into the passing lane then all the way over onto the gravel shoulder. Dirt, gravel, sod and rubber were a flying.
We came to rest on the shoulder about 200 to 300 yards down the road. I threw on the emergency break and rushed out to the back of the RV. It is important to understand that this all happened during the peek of rush hour traffic and just before the ?Incident? my rear view mirrors showed both lanes packed bumper to bumper with happy motorists eager to get home.
It is truly amazing how many things can race thru your mind (even mine) in just a millisecond. I was able to evaluate what had happened, survey the damage and planned what to do next. In the next millisecond, 3 of my 5 senses went into action and fear took control of my body.
First, my sense of hearing as a multitude of panic braking tire squeals cut thru the night. One after another, squeal after squeal and fading up the highway from where we had come. Next was sight as I looked back at 50 feet of 2 lanes of open road before a wall of cars and tractor trailers stood, STOPPED, 4 vehicles wide on this 2 lane highway. And lastly was the smell of burning rubber from all the flat spots on hundreds of commuter?s tires.
Curiosity got the best of the north bound traffic as they slowed to see where the black cloud and smell of burnt rubber was coming from. That?s when the echoing effect of the squealing tires started on the other side of the median. When the rubber-neckers turned their eyes back to the road all they saw were break lights and locked up their own bring the north bound lanes to a stop also. I was hearing howling tires in surround sound.
With images of cars pilled 6 high and tossed all over, I was amazed there were no sounds of crunching metal and sights of cars upside down???.. just lots of black smoke. As the traffic started to crawl past me, I fear the commuters would have lots to explain to their loved ones when they got home. First would be the Elmer Fudd stutter and clacking ice cubes from their shaking hands in the first of several drinks. And how do you explain the brown stains in your draws?
OK?..This is what happened. I had purchased a hitch pin (the 5/8 inch steel pin that holds the trailer hitch into the class 3 receiver) that had a flat gravity swivel to keep it from coming out. I can only assume this because I never found the pin, but I think the flat swivel broke and the hitch pin came out dropping the tong of the tow dolly and trailer hitch ball onto the pavement at 67 MPH. The only thing keeping the car and dolly attached to the coach were the safety chains. I?m amazed that they did not break.
With our rig, tow dolly and Saab safely off the road and traffic now moving, I went hunting for lost parts i.e. the hitch pin, trailer hitch and ball. About 200 feet up the road a teenager came out of the woods and walked up to me asking what happened. He had heard all the noise from our Saab and people locking up their brakes and was expecting to see mass devastation. While walking with me he received 3 calls on his cell from his mother and neighbors wanting to know how many people were lying on the side of the road.
It was amazing to look back down the road towards the RV and see the black skid marks from the Saab that swerved so violently. It looked like a sine wave with amplitude of about 28 feet from the passing lane on to the shoulder. It was also amazing that every time the car had slalomed onto the shoulder it was directly in between the white delineation poles which are spaced ever 100 feet. The Saab swerved into the shoulder then the passing lane at least 8 times, missing the delineators every time. On the way back I did find the hitch but no hitch pin.
Once back to the RV I put my recovery plan in action. First was to remove the car from the tow dolly. The tie down straps had been twisted so tight from the wheels being turned so sharply they were difficult to loosen. Once they were off I had to move the coach forward 4 feet because the tongue of the dolly was under it and would have slammed up when the car came off. With the car off the dolly I could hammer and bend the ball lock back into position so it would lock again (I hope). I slid the ball and receiver back into the hitch but this is where I had to reach into my bag of tricks.
Since I had no hitch pin, I took the pin from the tow dolly that is used to keep it in the ?not? tilted position (it?s the same size pin). You pull the pin to back the car off (or on) the dolly and the dolly tilts down so the ramps are on the ground.
I loaded the car back onto the dolly and was putting the tie down straps on the wheels when the State Police showed up. Like where are they when you need them? I explained what had happened and what I was doing. He wrote up an accident report for an insurance claim (the back bumper of the coach was smashed in and a chunk of fiberglass busted out). The Saab held true to its reputation with its bumper taking most of the abuse and with the exception to a crack in the headlight lens, no other damage.
Remember the hitch pin I borrowed from the tow dolly???..the one I don?t have to keep the ramps from dragging???.. Well, my first priority was to purchase a new one. The trooper told us where the closest automotive store was at the next Newburg exit, 6.8 miles away. He said he would follow us to make sure we got there safely. I really think he wanted to make sure we got off his thruway. Soooooooo ??off we go.
Without a pin in the tow dolly to lock the ramps in the up position, every time I accelerated??? the dolly ramps would drop onto the pavement and created a nice light show of sparks. The officer was at first followed us quite closely with his emergency lights on. Once he received the first shower of sparks he backed off a bit. He followed us all the way to the toll booth insuring our exit from his turf.
We found an Auto Zone, purchased another hitch pin and decided to park it for the night at a nearby Wal-Mart. We had had enough excitement for the day, it was dark and I wasn?t sure the ball lock on the tow dolly was going to hold after bending it back into shape. Besides, I wouldn?t want to miss another exciting ?incident? just because it was too dark to see.
PS: Being an Eagle Scout and living the Motto ?Be Prepared?, while at Wal-Mart that night I browsed the auto section for hitch pins and found another that I liked better. It?s made by Master Lock and actually has a keyed lock to prevent it from coming out. So now I have a spare hitch pin just in case the tow dolly falls off again. Just planning ahead for the predictable incident (only because I?m getting use to the unpredictable). B
Let me tell you about a trip in life that was hell. In 1996 I bought my first car. She was a beauty. A 1987 Mazda 626, with only 97,000 miles on it. The clutch was slipping so I offered the man 3000$ and he took it. My friends dad had a car repair shop, so I asked Frank if he could put a new clutch in for me. He told me to drop it off on Monday, now I had only bought the car on Friday. Need less to say Sunday night the clutch went out six miles from home. I was a pretty night for a walk. This was in September of 96 by the way.
October rolled around, and I thought life was great. Here I had a great car with a new clutch. But things would get worse. Driving home late from work a cat ran out in front of me. I pulled the car onto the shoulder to miss the cat. Not knowing that a deer was standing on the shoulder. I almost decapited his head. The right passenger door would not open, I lost my right head light, and my right fender. The next morning the body shop that I went to, said that I would have to wait a week to get my car fixed. So the very next week the night that I was to drop off the car, I hit another deer. This time on the driver’s side. Now I had no lights to get home, just the light of the full moon. I also had to climb out the back seat since my door would not open. So the good thing about this is I get my whole car painted. And boy does it look great!!
In December I was a stop sign making a right turn. I looked left and saw a car coming. I did drift forward a few feet and stopped, thinking that I would not make it if I pulled out if front of the car. The bad thing was that the car behind me saw me move a few feet and just floored it, thinking that I had gone. There goes my nice new paint job. The sad thing that is happened again a month after I had this damage fixed. The second time the man who hit me never stopped. He just went right around me after hitting me.
Now for the really good story. The next year after I had gotten married (and I am stilled married to her). My Mazda needed to get inspected. Monday evening I got a call from the garage saying that I could pick up my car anytime tomorrow. The next morning my wife was driving her car, when she went off the road. We were fine, but the transmission was leaking out of the pan. where she had hit a rock. AAA towed us to the garage. I told Jennifer that it would be ok, we will just pick up my car. The tow truck driver dropped off my wife’s car, and I talked to the garage owner. He told me all he had to do was put on the sticker, and I could take my Mazda home. When suddenly looking out through the garage doors my Mazda moved five feet. Here the roll back driver had plowed into my car after dropping of Jenn’s. The mechanic told me that HE COULD NOT PUT A STICKER ON MY CAR BECAUSE THERE WAS NO TAIL LIGHT!!! So here we are at a garage with no cars. I called my dad, and he came and got us. I now knew this was car the spawn of the devil and I had to get rid of it. We traded it in on a Toyota Corolla and lived happly ever after. Martin John Haugh
I had many growing up. This isn’t really a road trip per se, but is car centric. In 1983, when I was a teenager, I took a trip to the Hawaiian island of Kauai with my parents, my older brother, and three of my older sisters. So that’s 7 adults. My dad was a frugal man, so when he booked a rental car for the trip he got a Mercury Zephyr. It was two tone red body, white top, not important to the story, but etched in my mind. So the morning after we arrived, dad announces “Let’s go see the beaches”. Beaches. Plural. We all pile into the Zephyr. Since it had no bench seat in front, five of us were in the back seat, essentially on top of each other. It was like a circus act. Luckily, the first beach was only 5 minutes away from our condo. We were all relieved to get out of that car. But then, after perhaps 10 minutes, dad orders us all back into the car to head to the next beach. Okay fine, perhaps he wasn’t crazy about that first one. Fifteen minutes down the road and we arrived at another spectacular beach. Again, within 10 minutes or so, dad is rounding us all up again. It became clear, that dad intended to hit EVERY Kauai beach that first day. I guess he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Around noon, we stopped at a roadside picnic table to have lunch. Dad had picked up a salami and a loaf of bread at the grocery store. Two minutes into lunch we were attacked by a vicious swarm of mosquitoes and had to retreat to the Zephyr for safety. We were all in a fowl mood at that point, but dad, comfortable in his roomy front seat, casually enjoyed his lunch of some of the stinkiest salami I have ever encountered. There was no escaping the smell in that tiny box, especially after we got under way and dad started burping. In all, we probably spent a total of 6 hours crammed into that uncomfortable woefully undersized car driving around that day, and perhaps 45 minutes actually enjoying the beautiful beaches.
A few years later we returned to Kauai, this time with only my parents and two of my siblings. Got to the rental place to pick up the car, and wouldn’t you know it, yet another two tone red and white Zephyr. Luckily this time, it was just the right size, and dad had already seen all the beaches, so we could instead relax.
Iggy - Austin Texas
Dear Tom & Ray, Keep up the good work!
Like most tragic comedies it began with a grand idea, ?let?s RV from Ohio to Texas for a wedding even though we had never done anything like that before?. With a desire to see the country and care for our asthmatic cat we arranged to rent a friend?s thirty five foot motor home. The first night we settled in at the camp where the RV sits and found immediately the TV to be not working. We rushed out and purchased a nineteen inch flat screen and DVD player from the local super center to at least be able to watch movies. The next morning we launched upon or trek across country with extreme confidence only find ourselves stuck in traffic behind and large tow-truck towing a broken down RV. We joked that certainly this could not be an omen, but it was.
Over the next ten days we spoke over the phone or met in person five repairmen for the following breakdowns. The water system smelled like rotting onions and had to be treated with bleach. The dashboard AC would only blow out the defrosters and it had to be rigged to blow out the dashboard vents with a cable tie, thus no longer having defrosters. Then the twelve volt power system needed repaired and upon finally fixing the motor home’s generator the resulting blue smoke that filled the vehicle from the built up oil in the exhaust choked us all, cat included. The stabilizers failed to work so the pull-out could not be used which created a cramped environment. The reserve water tank when full would leak on the carpet at the foot of the bed. Reverse gear failed in Texas, remember we still have to drive back to Ohio.
In Okalahoma we became aware that we must of have clipped the back corner of the motor home, not being able to back up and all the driving situations got a little tight. Now seven days into our trip we were beginning to actually cry. Not fifteen minutes from discovering the wrecked back corner traveling on I40 into Oklahoma City in the middle of three lanes of traffic, the car in front of us swerved to the right to reveal, wait for it, a wooden rocking chair in the middle of the freeway. I was able to swerve just enough to launch the now shattered chair off the right corner of the RV. It was at this moment tears turned to laughter and we realized that our adventure had become one of glorious if not legendary magnitude. With a combination of the following movies; ?RV?, ?Little Miss Sunshine?, ?European Vacation? and ?O? Brother Where Art Though?, we experienced what will be for us probably the greatest vacation of our marriage. We had proven our love, proven our strength and proven our true sense of humor and would do it again and probably will, just not in that RV.
BDB from Ohio
Mr. Not Ted & The Girls
Recounted by-Dr. Nancy Ronne
Hi,
I am a psychoanalyst/SEX therapist. Now that I?ve gotten your attention?.It was the summer of 1999. My daughter, Margo, had decided to spend the first half of her junior year in St. Petersburg Russia. She was a Russian literature and language major at Reed College in Portland Oregon. Margo was intent on driving her 1967 Chevy Chevelle from Portland to Los Angeles so that she would have a car waiting for her when she returned to Los Angeles. Now I?m not a mechanic (although my father taught Hi School auto shop) but I?m scientifically minded and I know a bit about friction, metal fatigue , and the unreliability of older autos especially a THIRTY-TWO year no-power anything, well used car. I tried to dissuade her?it was a no go. Being the good, worried mother that I am, I was not going to let her drive those 962 miles by herself. I purchased a one way ticket (LA to Portland). I flew United because in those days you would get free peanuts with your beverage of choice. It was a Friday in late July. I feeling trepidations about the drive but looking forward to spending some good road trip time with Margo. We made sure all the requisite fluids were topped off, the gas tank full. We took off mid-morning on Sat. About two hours into the trip we stopped at a lovely little park in Eugene and ate the picnic lunch Margo had made?.chicken pesto sandwiches, fresh peaches and ORGANIC apple juice from a local grower and still warm fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.
Refreshed and full we packed up the remains of our lunch and got back on the road heading for Willows California where we would spend the night. It was late afternoon when we drove through Dunsmuir California. Dunsmuir (pop. 2000) is about 300 miles north of Portland and 11 south of Mt. Shasta. You might remember hearing about Dunsmuir?.known for its pure, fresh snow runoff water. Ironically on the night of July 14, 1991, a derailment of a railroad car resulted in the release of approximately 19,500 gallons of biocide. The biocide killed every living thing in the river for a distance of some 38 miles. This was one of the most severe toxic spills in U.S. history. But I digress
We were cruising on the highway, going about 60 mph, with the magnificent snow capped Mt. Shasta in the rear view mirror, suddenly there was a loud noise (metal on metal) followed by thump thump thump. We looked at each other. Margo had a terrified look on her face. She mumbled ?that doesn?t sound good?
No it didn?t. I pulled the car onto the shoulder. Margo started to cry. It took all my restraint to not say ?I told you this wasn?t a good idea? I said ?someday we?ll be laughing about this, but now you?ve got to stop crying, we?ve got to deal with this.? Seemingly out of the blue a tow truck pulled up beside us and the oh-so-dead Chevelle. Out of the cab lumbered guy who like too much like someone (and I?m not talking about the Burt Reynolds/John Voit team) from the movie Deliverance . He sauntered up to us and queered ?Problems?? I explained the best I could. Margo was trying not to cry. ?Well? he announced as he hooked up the Chevelle to his tow cable ?I?ll tow your car to Fred?s service station and give you two a ride into town. Boy are you two girls lucky that I?m not Ted Bundy.? Margo and I looked at each other with that oh-no-this-is ?not-good- expression on our faces. We reluctantly climbed into the truck?s cab. Margo held back nudging me to sit in the middle next to icky ?not Ted Bundy?. Mr. Not Ted told us about how crowded the town was and wasn?t sure if there were any rooms available. In-between a detailed accounting of the motels and their no vacancy sign, he would mumble something about ?lucky? ?not Ted Bundy? ?two woman alone? He said that if we couldn?t find a room we could ?bunk down? at his house! We would rather have hiked back to the Chevelle and slept in it before we would bunk down at Mr. Not Ted?s place.
Luckily for us there was one room left at the Dunsmuir Inn?..Dunsmuir yes, Inn no. It was a funky (and not in a charming way) beaten down motel under construction. The drive way and walk ways were chopped up and large broken pieces of concrete were unceremoniously scattered about. It was around 11pm before we got settled in our room. We were starving?.those pesto chicken sandwiches were but a faint memory. The friendly kitchen flunky said he would make us something to eat. I opted for the French dip sandwich, Margo got pancakes. The food arrived at our room. Margo?s pancakes were fluffy and steaming hot. My French dip was DOA. Margo later told me to always order pancakes because it is the one thing that has to be made fresh. Wow I guess that $80k we spent on her education at Reed really did pay off.
As Margo was drifting off to sleep she told me that the back door to our room wouldn?t close because of the construction and general state of the place. She fell asleep and I was suddenly wide awake. I went around pushing chairs under the door knobs, locking windows and listening for sounds of Mr. Not Ted and his posse breaking in and us on killing the spot!. The last thing I remember was seeing the sun glinting off Mr. Shasta.
Sunday late morning we got up and walked over to Fred?s service station. We introduced ourselves to Fred and his two weather worn cronies. We had interrupted their intense game of Gin Rummy. These guys were familiar to me. I grew up in the San Fernando Valley in the late 40?s when vast alfalfa fields, grove after grove of orange trees, and acres of tomatoes covered the landscape. The Basque shepherd and his Australian Shepherd guided his flock through town to graze on the alfalfa fields. Growing up we hung out at Gus?s Gas Station?.bought candy from the glass unlocked cupboard and pulled Cokes out of the big red Coke container filled with chunks of ice and Cokes in glass bottles (5cents each). There were always numerous guys hoisting their cars on the lifts to fix the transmission or just change the oil. The guys at Fred?s in Dunsmuir reminded me of the guys who hung out at Gus?s. Fred informed us that we had blown a gasket and he would have to send away from some parts. I knew ?blown gasket? was bad.
For the next two days Margo and I walked around the town (3 blocks long) looking at the stores that sold souvenirs, knick knacks, miniature models of Mr. Shasta, a smiley face refrigerator magnate, wooden signs reading sayings like ?This is the first day of the rest of your life?, a three minute egg timer painted in day-glow colors… not one thing that you actually needed. We ate, played Hearts, laughed, and walked around in the 95 degree heat, dropped in to visit Fred and the Chevelle, took a nap, read??..
It was Tuesday and we couldn?t wait any longer. We bought two tickets for the Amtrak train that was heading south. The train left Dunsmuir at midnight and arrived in Los Angeles the next day but 14 hours later?..it was all very confusing. We walked back to Fred?s. I approached one of the guys who regularly hung out at Fred?s. Everyone called him JP. I asked him if (once the Chevelle was fixed) he would be willing to drive Margo?s car back to Portland. He said sure. I gave him the spare keys, $200 cash and directions to Margo?s apartment. I had no doubt that he would do what he had promised.
At midnight we boarded the Amtrak train headed for Los Angeles. A week later Margo took off for St. Petersburg. She learned all the hip, trendy words of the day, had a Russian boyfriend, ate brown bread, Borsch, and pelmene (a Russian soup). It as a great adventure. And when Margo returned to Portland (four months later) she found her Chevelle, parked right in front of her apartment and the keys in her mailbox. When Margo put the key in the ignition it started right up and purred like a kitten.
PS: We never saw Mr. Not Ted after that Sat. night when he dropped us off at the Dunsmuir Inn.
In the early 90’s I had inherited my parent’s old 30’ motor home and my friends and I would take short weekend trips from our Chicago homes. The motor home was always acting up in one way or another but it’s biggest annoyance was when the engine was very hot it had difficulty starting again until it had cooled down. This made going to the gas station always an adventure.
On one such weekend trip two buddies and I were going up to a place near the Wisconsin Dells for a rafting trip and a skeet shooting contest (no, not happening at the same time) so after work on Friday I went to fill up the gas tank only to have it refuse to start. I sat there, a 30’ motor home parked across two pumps waiting for the engine to cool. After a half hour, and numerous evil looks from the station manager and other customers it still would not start. I managed to convince another motorist to help me push the motor home out away from the pumps and called one of the guys going on the trip to come meet me and bring his jumper cables. He was already on his way to meet me at my house so it was only a few minutes extra before he arrived at the station. We hooked up the cable to his Saturn and I turned to head back to the motor home cab only to see the battery cable start to glow and the rubber coating instantly turn to smoke. The motor home battery had been installed facing backwards and my friend didn’t know the cables were on the wrong lead. I grabbed a small fire extinguisher and smacked the cables until one snapped, stopping the connection and causing more smoke than before. The station manager ran out to see if he needed to call the fire department and my friend was shaking as he though we’d killed his car.
After calming them down, my friend took me to a nearby parts store for a new battery for the motor home, even though given the power running in those cables it was probably still okay, and replaced it. Started like a charm.
We quickly packed up at my house, a bit later than expected, and started on our way to Wisconsin. About ten miles on the highway there was a whiff of something burning but it quickly went away and we assumed it was a remnant of the flaming jumper cables but in about five miles the engine started to run rough and we pulled off the road to the sound of a gushing radiator and a pegged temperature gauge. Of course it was dark and with the engine not running we were left with flashlights and the internal battery lights for the motor home. After a few minutes we found that the fan belt was gone. About this time a state trooper pulled up to see why we were on the side of the road. We explained the situation and he told us that we had two hours to get the vehicle off the road before he had to give us a ticket. Fortunately for us he didn’t want to come inside and see all the shotguns, shells and clay pigeons we had stashed in the back of the motor home. To borrow from Bill Murray in Stripes, this was one heavily armed recreational vehicle. After twenty minutes the engine started, sans fan belt, but we had just passed an on ramp so at what was now almost midnight we backed up the on ramp to get off the highway and then parked it on the side of a small farm road. Only being a few miles from home we had other friends come get us and in the morning I returned with a new fan belt.
Turns out that during that day the raft party was hit with a hail storm, so maybe this was a not so subtle hint that we should stay home.
My road trip to Arizona started with me making sure my car was in good working order before making the 900+ mile trip. I took it to a lube n tube for an oil, transmission and ‘multi point inspection’ I just wouldn’t feel right without making sure my many points were inspected. One point on their checklist was my windshield wipers, they urged me I wouldn’t want to get stuck in the rain with these crappy wipers, I wouldn’t be able to sufficiently deflect the deadly drops of water, surely I must change them. I agreed. 35.00$ for the oil change 30.00 for the transmission fluid and 25.00 for new wipers I was on my way. I hit the occasional summer thunderstorm, never really needed to turn on my wipers. On the way back home I stopped at state line to fuel up-on my way back onto interstate 10 I get stuck behind one of the many Dooley tucks and horse trailers while on a very long freeway onramp. The truck is not accelerating as much as I would like it too so I ride the gentleman’s bumper to make my point. No sooner am I right on his bumper the horse in the trailer relieves himself on the hood of my car…I’m thanking goodness that I bought new windshield wipers, I smelled road apples all the way home, even after stopping and hosing off my car.
Two days later I took it back to the same lube n tube for my maintenance after driving 3000 miles plus and again they urged me to replace my windshield wipers, when I told them I had just had them replace them only two weeks before; they said they would have never sold me “such a piece of crap” brand.
We flew into Zurich, Switzerland – & found our luggage (for 4 adults) had not made the switch in London (the 2 hr. wait must have been a LONG tea break). The rental camper showed up, & my sister said “oh no – it’s orange, & that’s BAD LUCK”. I laughed. Turned out it wasn’t funny. The camper leaked, giving us mildewed sheets & other weird sleeping arrangements. The motor kept stalling, all the way across Germany & into Austria; going from Venice to Florence, down the Dolamites, the motor not only stalled (in front of a logging truck) but the brakes also seized up. We limped into Florence, trying to negotiate the narrow streets, looking for the repair shop. A brake job, which in the US would have been a 1/2 day job, took all day… but offered the special treat of watching my drag racing, but English only, brother in law draw pictures of brake drums for the Italians. (Mechanics speak a universal language!) It also gave us the best meal, by following said Italian mechanics to their lunch spot! We literally pushed the camper through the pass into Lichtenstein, where brother-in-law fixed the distributer with a pocket knife. The 4 of us spent 3 weeks in “The Orange Blitz”, sharing space the size of a VW bus, & we are still speaking to each other. Best of all, we ended up with stories which have lasted 20 years.
Guys - here is one of my experiences! John