In 1964, my husband, in a fit of “midlife crisis” purchased a Ford Thunderbird. This was a bad idea for many reasons, not the least of which was that we had three children, at that time 9, 6 and 4 years old. Since there were only two bucket seats in the front with a sporty console, the children had to be jammed into the back seat which sat practically on top of the front seats.
My husband’s father was in poor health, living in northeast Oklahoma. We lived in northwest New Mexico - a long way away. From time to time, some health crisis would arise and we would be forced to make a hurried trip back. On this particular trip, we chose to go by Highway 64 which goes across the northern part of New Mexico and into the panhandle of Oklahoma. So we piled the children into the car and took off. We stopped for lunch in Taos at a Mexican restaurant. At that time, the children did not like spicy food and of course, that’s all they had there. The only thing they liked were the sopapillas and honey. (Sopapillas are little fried bread “pillows” which you fill with honey.) In a hurry to get back on the road again, we piled them all into the back seat where Tim proceeded to spill honey all over the upholstery of the new car. This did NOT endear him to his father!
At about Cimarron, the car began to make a funny noise so we stopped at a garage where they told us it sounded like the water pump had gone out but they had no one to fix it there. They thought we could make it on into Springer and we did. There, we found a garage with some real mechanics and they started to work. Then we found another disadvantage to the Thunderbird - it was such a powerful car and had all the latest gadgets on it but everything was so jammed under the hood of this remarkable machine that the mechanics couldn’t get to the water pump without taking almost everything else out! Springer is the home of a NM Juvenile Reform school and not much else so for the four hours we waited while the car was being repaired in the dirty garage without even a chair to sit on, I entertained the children with dire threats of leaving them at the Reform School.
The repair charges were fairly high and the garage would take only cash, no checks on an out-of-town bank. Credit cards had not been invented yet.
Onward we went from Springer to Clayton where it was growing dark. Outside of Clayton, the lights began to dim and the car ran in stops and starts. A Highway Patrolman spotted us and led us to a garage on the edge of town. As Jack turned off the ignition at the garage, the windshield wipers, all on their own, began moving slowly back and forth. At this point, Larry, our 9 year old, who had more imagination than the younger children and who read ghost stories a lot, said, "I’m getting out of here - this car’s haunted!"
Since Jack had no idea how much this garage visit was going to cost, he had to conserve what little cash we had so he gave me $5 and told me to get dinner at the restaurant next door for all of us. I ended up ordering soup with as many crackers as the waitress was willing to give us. I should mention that I was dressed in my sheared beaver coat and diamond wrist watch and we had ample money in our bank account in Farmington but no way to access it.
Whatever they fixed in Clayton held us until we got to Nowata, Oklahoma, about two in the morning.
The rest of the story takes place on the return trip. All went well until we were back in New Mexico driving through the Carson National Forest on a Sunday night. My husband was planning to get gas at a little town before we got to the Forest but the stations were all closed - it being a Sunday night. So we were very low on gas and driving through the winding curves when the headlights blinked off. They were off just for a second or two, but when they were off, you could see nothing. The road-side reflectors, we soon found out, did not reflect when you had no headlights. There were no street lights, of course. One time was scary enough but they kept doing it, time after time. Up until this point, I had been worried about running out of gas. Now I had a more pressing concern - would the headlights go off for good? Around curve after curve we went : blink off; blink on. We would both heave a sigh of relief when they came on each time. We had our eyes glued on the gas gauge and it kept getting lower and lower. Jack and I were discussing which would be better - to all get out and walk for gas or for Jack to leave me in the car with three sleeping children in the dark with no lights on a curving road and risk someone running into us.
Amazingly, we made it to a small town outside the forest where a gas station was still open and from there we were home safely.
As long as we owned the Thunderbird, the mechanics never did find out what made the lights blink on and off. They continued to do it but never in town where there were street lights - only when we were out in the country with only roadside reflectors. It was indeed, a haunted car!
ROAD TRIP
Way back when I was in school in Champaign-Urbana, I got acquainted with a woman who was visiting her grandmother, my neighbor. One day, she mentioned that she needed a ride home, so I told her I?d give her a ride, even though I didn?t have a car. When she said she lived in Ashland, Oregon, I said, ?Sure, no problem.? Off we went to Chicago where we got a drive-away car, a blue Dodge van, going to San Francisco. I wanted to visit some friends in L A, so we talked the drive-away company into letting us take the southern route, the former Route 66. We made it as far as Dwight, a couple of hours south of Chicago, when the oil light came on. Pulling into the nearest gas station, we added 3 quarts of oil, and headed on to Decatur, where we spent the night at my parents? house, and the next day put a waterbed in the back, filled it with water, and headed south. The van, which we had named Dolly Mae, was swerving down the road because of the water in the bed sloshing from side to side, and it?s amazing that we didn?t get stopped for drunk driving. Around Joplin, Missouri, I said, ?I?m tired of driving. You drive for a while,? and my friend said, ?I don?t know how to drive.? Uh-oh. So after a short nap on the waterbed , I did the only thing possible — started picking up hitch-hikers and making them drive. After all, we only had five days to get to California. Just outside of Oklahoma City the waterbed sprang a leak, so there we were, taking turns holding a pencil in the valve to empty the water. We had gotten used to stopping every sixty miles to add three quarts of oil, and by then, we were buying used 40-weight by the case. We missed sunset in the Painted Desert by three quarts of oil. When we finally made it to LA, we were driving on the El Monte Freeway when we heard a loud racket coming from under the van. We limped off the freeway at the next exit, and coasted into a gas station where we were told that we had thrown a rod through the engine and back through the transmission. Mission accomplished. We made it to LA. The drive-away company told us to just leave the van there. Did we make it to Oregon? Yes, we hitch-hiked our way up there, but that?s another story.
Annie Hat, Hortonville, NY
I have a degenerative eye condition that has casued me to lose my sight. Having prior knowledge of this made some things easier for me and some things harder as you might expect. One of the things that I always wanted to see was the Grand Canyon and about fifteen years ago my wife and I decided to go while I still had enough sight to appreciate it. This is where the trip from hell began.
We had two children at the time one about 12 and the other about six. We asked some friends of ours if they wanted to go and they were delighted to go with us. We had planned the rip in detail. We knew where we would spend each night based on comfortable driving hours (I was fortunate enough not to be able to drive ) and made our hotel reservations accordingly.
Then at the last minute we decided to look into renting a motor home. We found one for rent, figured out the expenses of gas versus hotels etc. and decided to go with the motor home. We were all excited about this. Who could have guessed.
The day came and the six of us took off in the motor home, which the owner assured us would be just fine for the trip. We left Louisiana feeling excited and looking forward to our trip. The kids got to watch TV while the driving chore was shared by my wife and one of our friends. At the end of the first day we found ourselves in Amarillo Texas and stopped for breakfast. That was our first mistake. The food was good, the company great, and the vacation was just under way.
When we got back into the motor home we were all filled with joy, excitment, eggs, biscuits and grits, ready to proceed. Unfortunately the motor home had other ideas. It wouldn’t start. Turning the key brought nothing but the sound of gloom and doom. Not to be discouraged, we called around and found someone who would come take a look. It was nothing serious, just corroded battery terminals which the mechanic found after removing the cover in the motor home where the batteries are kept letting the family of mice living there free range in the motor home much to the ladies dismay and the kids joy. I guess they wanted pets to play with on the way. So after paying the $975.00 to the mechanic, chasing all the little animals out of the motor home, and having lunch, we were ready to roll again. We were now half a day late according to our schedule. What did they say about the best laid plans?
We had another uneventful day, if you can call a car sick kid, getting lost on a one lane highway with no room to turn around a 150 foot motor home uneventful, and were glad to end up in a KOA campground with RV hook ups, showers, (I didn’t really like the broom closet bathroom where you could shower, shave in the sink, and go to the bathroom at the same time, and settled in for the night. We were amazed at how friendly everyone at the campground was. In fact, my friend and I talked to an elderly couple next to us who told us all about a wonderful park in Colorado that they had just left. They made it sound so beautiful that we decided to alter our plans. After all we were already off schedule and couldn’t complete what we wanted.
On our way to the park in Colorado we noticed that the sky was getting increasingly dark, This wouldn’t be a problem normally except that it was early afternoon. Soon the motor home began to rock in the wind gusts and a rain began. Then the wind increased and the rain turned to hail. Not just any hail but large hail. Ever heard hail on the top and sides of a motor home? Not a pretty sound. Afraid the the wind was going to roll us over the edge of the mountain we were traveling across, we finally found a place to pull over. That was when we heard the tornado warning on the radio. We were glad that we had no idea where we were or we would have been afraid that it was close to us. Turns out it was, but fortunately it missed us but we were glad to have the opportunity to see some lady on a bicycle fly by the motor home followed by a cow, some chickens, and some little people singing something about munchkins.
Stopping for breakfast one morning back on our quest for the Grand Canyon, we happend to read about the world’s tallest dam not too far from where we were. As you might guess, we decided to take a short side trip to check out this dam. We should have stayed away from the damn dam.
We found the dam in a town called Paige Arizona. Actually a beautiful and friendly town on the Colorado River which the dam is built on. We visited the dam and the lake and decided to get back on the road. Paige Arizona is located down in the valley of some very tall mountains. So when you leave Paige you have to climb these very steep grades to get out of town. When we were about a quarter of the way up this steep grade leaving town, the motor home began to overheat. When it red lined, we had to pull over. Did I mention this was in summer? Did I mention that it gets hot in Arizon in summer? It was 106 degrees in the shade. Did I mention that the temperature in a motor home rivals that of a pizza oven?
Being the optimist that I am, I knew the problem couldn’t be too big a deal, after all the owner assured us the motor home would be fine on the trip. We all felt a bit of relief as the tow truck driver informed us of a great mechanics shop that worked on RVs right in Paige. This was great. The owner of the motor home had told us that he had to approve any repairs done to the motor home in advace so we gave the mechanic the phone number and headed for lunch. We found a great down home diner where the food was great and the people were friendly. Turns out we would all be on a first name basis before we knew it.
We went back to pick up the motor home which was going to be ready that afternoon after they had cleaned out the radiator. Evidently it had some stuff in it that kept it from functioning correctly.
We were going to head for the Gran Canyaon and we still had three days of vacation left. We were elated. We headed out of tow climbing the steep grade out of Paige Arizona holding our breath. As the temperature began to rise, so did my blood pressure. When it red lined we were surprised to find we were in exactly the same spot on the road we were the first time it overheated.
We were delighted to hear that the mechanics brother owned a motel and he got us a room for the night since he would not be able to look at the motor home until the following day. We went back to the great diner for supper, learning that night that it was owned by the mechnaics sister.
The next day the motor home owner authorized the replacement of the radiator, only they didn’t happen to have one in stock. They would send someone to pick it up and it would be in the next day. Not to worry, it was a great town on a big lake, we would take the kids to the beach.
By now we were becoming well known in the community and there was a “Reserved” sign on our table at the diner. Since we were eating there three times a day, they figured it would be good customer relations to hold our table for us. I guess the mechanics sister liked us. I think the mechanics brother liked us too because we got a reduced rate our second night.
Now, the radiator has been replaced and we are ready to go and we still might have time to make it to the Grand Canyon. I was due at a business conference in Dallas and I was going to be dropped off there while the family and friends proceeded home. Grand Canyon here we come!
A little after ten in the morning we headed back up the steep climb out of Paige Arizona. I crossed my fingers when I heard some not-so-nice words being uttered. I knew we were in trouble and so was my 12 year old for uttering these words. As the motor home red lined we were pleased to find we actually made it about twenty feet farther this time. The tow truck driver, who was by the way, the mechanic’s first cousin, was glad to see us and hugged everyone before he hooked up the motor home to take it back to the shop.
“We still have your room for you” the brother of the mechanic’s wife said. “Same room and the same discounted price” she said handing us the key and two rolls of toilet paper. “We haven’t even cleaned i t up yet so you might need these” she told us.
We were quite surprised to hear that the water pump on the motor home was not only not working, but was the wrong model for the motor home as well. The owner of the motor home authorized the repairs and the mechanic’s nephew, who owned the courier service in Paige, headed out of town to go get the water pump, we headed to our diner for lunch. When we read the menu we noticed a new plate lunch called “Louisiana’s Favorite”, named because we always ordered the same thing for lunch.
So with the new water pump installed, the hotel bill paid, a boxed lunch from our diner, and a full tank of gas from the truck stop, we just knew we would head out of town and get out, and we would have one day to visit the Grand Canyon.
When I heard Lora singing Hotel California “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave”, I knew we would be back in Paige again. As the motor home red lined, we saw the tow truck waiting for us. “Hi folks, just thought I would save some time in this heat.” the driver told us hopping out of his truck, huggin the kids, and sneaking a little kiss from the wives. He hooked up the motor home and we headed back to town.
The mechanic took a look at it and told us that he couldn’t figure out what was going on and that it shouldn’t be overheating. We made a bold and daring plan. We would leave at 1 AM before it got really hot and see if we could make it. We left a note for the hotel owner and put the key under the mat, in case we needed to get back in later in the morning. Turns out…we needed the key. The motor home overheated again.
So now we are less than happy. We call the owner and tell him that we are now late getting back to work, the motor home is still broken down, and we are going to have to leave it there if it can’t be fixed. The owner told us to stay put and he would call us back. Next morning while we were at our diner having breakfast, the motor home owner called to let us know he was on the way and that he had his mechanic with him. They would arrive the next day.
When he arrived he told us we could take his car and head back or wait until his mechanic got the motor home fixed and take it. We took his keys and headed home in his Suburban. I had missed my conference and we were now four days late getting back to work. That evening my wife said "There is a sign that says “You have come this far, don’t leave without seeing the Grand Canyon just 15 miles” and started to cry.
We never did see the Grand Canyon and now I have lost my sight so I don’t guess I will ever see it. I have to say though, I would love to go back to Paige Arizona, but during the winter, not the summer. At least it was a dry heat though. LOL
To top it all off, the owner of the motor home refused to refund any of our money even though we had to rent hotel rooms for many nights. What a jerk.
Michael Tisdale
After 3 weeks rafting on the Colorado/Grand Canyon (a food boat flipped early on, rations were short, so-called friends started stealing each others’ food, I hurt my back, but it was fun!), the transmission went out on my elderly dodge ram pickup. We had to rent a u-haul to load boats and equipment in and tow the truck back to LA. Arrived home at 2 am to find a water pipe had burst weeks ago and the hardwood floors were all wrecked. One of the 2 times in my life I’ve been hysterical. But it was fun!
Jane
It all started somewhere in the early 1960?s?my sister and I were deemed old enough to be able to tolerate the long drive to from our home in North Carolina to Grandma and Grampa?s home in Upstate New York. The first few years of the annual Mecca were in a ?58 Plymouth Wagon, called the Dragon Wagon, not in deference to the famous dragster ?Dragin? Wagon? but because the muffler was always rusted out, and it roared down the road seemingly breathing fire and definitely belching smoke. The car was black with a black vinyl interior, and of course, no air conditioning. The joy of riding in this car in the middle of summer was enhanced by the extra comfort feature Dad had made and installed: a black vinyl mattress that fit in the back where my sister and I could nap during the 2 day drive along the back roads in the days prior to the Dwight D Eisenhower interstate system reaching the Deep South. It was, to my sister?s thinking, much like being at the beach: sweltering away in the sun, only to wake up in the high tide of salty sweat that puddled in the divots of the mattress that out elbows, shoulders, butts, and heads made.
Still, the trips were filled with the fun activities of playing Beetle Bug, Playhead, and Urban Renewal. Now many of you recall Beetle Bug, it?s like counting cows, only spotting VW Beetles instead. With the winner screaming over everyone else ?BEETLE BUG! BEETLE BUG!? But many, nay, most of you may not know the joys of either Playhead or Urban Renewal, and your loss is your gain.
Playhead was a simple game and good for hours on end. And hours on end (Did I say this already?) It worked like this: My sister, tired of swimming in the mattress pool, would climb into the back seat, and I remained sitting in our portable heated salt water aquarium. Unbeknownst to my sister (year after year), as she sat reading, I?d start tossing her head between both hands like a basketball yelling ?PLAYHEAD! PLAYHEAD!? It was great fun for Mom and Dad too. While driving with my sister?s feet under the seat poking him in the butt, Dad would pleasantly ask Mom ?CAN?T YOU DO SOMETHING WITH THEM?? Mom, trying in vain to reach back over the back seat, would grab at me, but I could really rat my way to the very back of the car, snagging my sister?s bird book, which I would casually toss out the back window of the car.
Now lest you think my sister to be an innocent victim of her baby brother, she invented the game of Urban Renewal. In this pre-Interstate time, highways generally wandered through such magnificent towns such as Wilkes-Barre, and of course though the more ?scenic? parts of town. Without fail out eardrums were shattered with the shrill cry of an 8 year old girl pointing at decaying industrial plants and mill housing screaming ?URBAN RENEWAL! URBAN RENEWAL!? This was quickly followed by a painful sound somewhat reminiscent of a Civil Defense siren crossed with a deranged chimpanzee.
Summer after summer were filled with such youthful exuberance, with Mom and Dad chiming in, which must mean they approved of our finding ways to amuse ourselves. Right? I mean really, didn?t by joining in mean they approved? Ah yes, I though so.
One summer was particularly memorable, with outdoor dining taken to a new level. I remind you, gentle reader, that in the days before Interstates, there were often wide spots in the 2 lane roads called ?rest areas?. These were very different from the modern concrete block multi-stalled wonders US Senators prefer these days. In the old days, these spots usually offered picnic tables, a path 10 feet into the woods that ended at a very smelly and littered spot, a ?Pet Exercise Area? which consisted of a wooden post planted in a small pile of gravel that smelled about the same as the end of the ten-foot path, and not much more.
Mom and Dad had a new surprise for us one summer. We had a brand new car! Instead of the decrepit old Dragon Wagon, we had a brand new ?64 Dodge Dart wagon. Slant 6 power of course. Yet unnamed, it sported a cool flesh-tone beige paint job and RED vinyl interior. Of course air conditioning was an added cost option, so rather than splurge for that, Mom found in the Spencer?s Catalog (you know, the one that also sold the blue, red, and green piece of plastic you put in front of the screen of your black and white TV to make everything have sky, people and grass colors? Walter Cronkite (God rest his soul) always had blue hair, a green suite and a face that appears as if he just ran a marathon?) ?sorry, I digress… Mom found a car air conditioner in the catalog of wonders! And what a wonder it was. Simple to install and use. Simply put it over the transmission hump, place a bag of ice in the tray, and a fan would blow dank, musty air all over the car for everyone to enjoy. Better yet, when Dad turned a corner, ice water would fill either his or Mom?s shoes!
The Black Mattress was moved to the new car for my sister?s and my water park amusement. In addition to the new car, instead of eating tuna fish sandwiches that had been pulled out of the cooler at some point and left to mellow in the sun, Dad had bought a Hibachi to cook our food! For those too young to remember, a hibachi is small portable cast aluminum grill on which any Dad could cook hamburgers for lunch, in our case during the second day of travel at one of the rest areas. On this memorable day, Dad got out his shiny new hibachi and lit the charcoal while Mom retrieved the hamburgers, which like the tuna sandwiches were also mysteriously par boiling in the pool of kiddy sweat of the Black Mattress for the past day. My sister and I decide to explore the 10-foot path and pet exercise area. After our explorations, and just after Dad finally gets the sweat-soaked charcoal to burst into flame, my sister notices a sign stating ?No Open Fires?.
Now my sister had this well deserved reputation of becoming hysterical, (some say it continues today), and so with her screaming that we?d all go to jail, and that she did not want to spend a night in jail with a bunch of drunks, convinced us that we should leave before the police arrested us. After a few minutes of being worried we would be arrested for disturbing the peace, Dad calmly picked up the hibachi, replete with burgers sizzling and smoking away, placed it on the tailgate of the Dodge, climbed in back of the wagon and into the briny pool, while Mom slid into the drivers seat and proceeded to drive us down the Pennsylvania Turnpike while Dad cooked the hamburgers, smoke and flames roiling out of the Dart worse than the Dragon Wagon ever did. Burgers were served with the car still in motion, carsickness cleaned up soon after at the next rest area.
The Dart has since been recycled into a Toyota, and then again into a Hyundai, the Black Mattress has finally dry-rotted away despite it?s brine curing, my sister and I have survived into adulthood despite each other, but Dad still cooks hamburgers for Mom on the very same hibachi that billowed it?s way down the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
Vacations have never been the same.
Ron
Asheville, NC
I have a house on the Caribbean coast of the Republic of Panama. The roads out where I live are terrible and normal car services are not usually available. I live 75 miles from Panama City and that translates into a 3?-hour trip. One day when returning from a shopping trip to the city I had some strange trouble on the road.
The car ran fine on the flat or when going down hill. The problem came up when I tried to go up hill. The car would stall out. If I turned off the car and sat for 15 or 20 minutes, I was able to go up hill.
At least for a while. At some point that strategy stopped working, too. I was at a loss as were my friends who were accompanying me. We were also concerned that it
was getting late and we did not want to be out on those bad roads after dark. Getting desperate I remembered that my dad told me that early cars ( from the 30?s) had gravity fed gas tanks and often had to be driven up hill backward if the tank was less than ? full. I thought it was worth a try.
So, I turned the car around and went up backwards! It worked!
Not wanting to continue the entire trip backwards, I turned the car around in the middle of the road. (Did I mention that there is very little traffic out there?) Next hill, turned around and went up backwards. That was working very well till we got to the dirt road turn off to the beach where I live.
It is about 3 miles from the paved road to the beach. The road is carved out of the side of the hill and is about 1 ? cars wide. On one side is the raw, dirt, stony hillside and on the other is a drop off of between 35 and 80 feet; no guardrail.
Immediately off the paved road is the first hill; at about a 50% angle (I?m guessing, it could be steeper) In addition, it was the rainy season so there were lots of deep irregular ruts. And one very sharp turn to the left. So I turned the car around and started up. Did I mention that backing is one of my worst things? So I asked my friends to warn me if I got too close to the hillside or
too close to the dropoff. Then did. We made it to the top of that one. Then the down side of that hill is even steeper so I didn?t want to go down backwards, so I turned the car around on the steep, narrow, rutty hill, with a drop off. By now, it is dark. Then to the next hill. We repeated this for the 3 miles and 3 more hills.
My friends had been partying in the back seat for the entire trip and had had several pina coladas each. I, however, did the whole trip alcohol free.
We made it safely and I then took the opportunity to catch up with my friends and the pina coladas.
Can you guess what the problem was?
This was supposed to be a fun girls weekend trip to Los Angeles for me and my girls to see the musical Wicked and just have fun. What an adventure. On the way there, while on a busy California freeway the truck in front of us had a box fall off when we were only about 30 feet behind him. All I could do was straddle it and of course it caught on my undercarriage. I changed lanes to pull over and as I got to the far right lane it dislodged and everything in it went flying. So that was the first incident. Then the next day I took a wrong turn and went to turn around in a parking lot and nudged a Ferrari, which set off it’s car alarm. The owner came out and after I cried and apologized several times, he let me go, as there wasn’t any damage. That was the 2nd incident. Then on our way home, we had just passed through Las Vegas and I was feeling pretty good that we were almost home and my daughter looked down the freeway and said, “Isn’t that car coming toward us?” A car had got on the freeway going the wrong way straight at us! We hurried and changed lanes and wondered whether or not to call 911, when we saw a whole bunch of cars off the road with drivers and their cell phones. That was the 3rd incident. Needless to say, I was very glad to get home.
A Wedding and a Long-Overdue Funeral
I loved my 1996 GEO Prism, which had 185,000 miles and enough rust and dents that I was able to leave it unlocked in one of Boston?s most crime-ridden neighborhoods, where I worked as a Social Worker, without a moment of doubt that it would still be waiting for me when I left work each day. In fact, three years ago, when a client backed in to my car leaving a basket-ball sized dent, the insurance adjuster offered me $450, threatening that if he paid me any more, he would have to total it.
Despite its outward appearance and the fact that it burned oil, leaked steering fluid, and could not take more than ? of a tank of gas without spillage, the GEO had served me reliably for years so I embarked on a trip from Cambridge, MA to a friend?s wedding in Williamsport, PA with confidence. This confidence was bolstered by the fact that I had just purchased 4 almost-brand-new tires from a junkyard in Somerville for $150, increasing the value of my car by almost 50%. It was a beautiful sunny, 85-degree day, but the first sign of trouble came several minutes later when the air conditioning broke and I rear-ended the person in front of me in the toll lane to get on interstate 90. Undeterred, I continued on to Brewster, NY, where I was to pick up three more wedding guests. As I coasted down the exit ramp, a small red cooler fell off of the car in front of me and immediately became lodged under my car. It was only with the help of a passerby, who looked at me suspiciously when I insisted that it was not my cooler, that I was able to get it un-stuck.
I picked up my friends without further incident and we arrived in Williamsport just in time for the bachelorette party. The next morning, in search of breakfast, six of us piled into the GEO upon which a rather concerning rattling noise commenced. When we arrived at the diner, I was surprised to note that the front bumper was hanging mere inches from the ground and the right headlight, although still in tact, was wiggling like a loose tooth. In an apparent act of empathy, the back bumper had also released its grip on the car. A roll of duct tape seemed like the best recourse, so with the help of the motel maintenance man, both bumpers were reattached in under an hour. On the up side, this new look further deterred both thieves and other drivers, who gave me an ever-widening berth.
Unfortunately, this repair job did not resolve the rattling. Fortunately, the bride?s father happened to be a truck-driver, owner of a small garage, and the basis for every stereotype about the kindness of Midwesterners. On the morning of his daughter?s wedding, he replaced my ball-bearing, lent me a company truck to drive to the wedding, and refused to accept any payment. I would like to say that this was the happy ending to the story but tragically, while the duck-tape survived the trip home in tact, the brakes did not. Back in Cambridge, I had no choice but to take my beloved car back to the junkyard where I had purchased my new tires only days before. As I walked away with my check for $150, I tried to ignore the crushing motions the office manager was making with her hands.
My sister and I bought a horse trailer. We didn’t have much experience, except that we did trailer with someone who had gotten a flat tire and changed it in a matter of minutes. After an outing with the horses, we started to drive back while it was still light. I detected a familiar burning odor and heard a familiar thumping sound. I immediately pulled over into a vacant lot. A flat tire on the trailer. No problem. No need to panic. I’ve seen this before. Prepared, we took out the trailer ramp and pulled the trailer up on the ramp. The problem? The trailer was too low to remove the tire. Now what? Ou equestrian friends and aquaintences had made fun of us because we had stored blocks of wood in the trailer. My sister and I used those blocks of wood to make a higher ramp. I drove up on it tilting the trailer, with the horses in it, on a 45 degree angle. It looked to me as if the trailer was going to topple on its side! I then took out the 4 way lug wrench. It didn’t fit the lugnuts! There was no way to remove this tire! I called AAA but they said they don’t change tires on trailers. I pleaded with them telling them I’m stuck on the road with two horses. They couldn’t help. My sister called her son who went to KMart and purchased several lug wrenches. We anxiously waited for his arrival. It was now dark. Luckily, one of the lug wrenches matched. I loosened the lugnuts. We changed the tire with my nephew’s help. A ten minute job had become a two hour nightmare. Thank God for the silly blocks of wood we kept in the trailer. We would have been fools if we had listened to our equestrian friends to remove those blocks of wood.
In the late 80’s my brother and I were in school at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. My parents were living in VA at the time with our younger sister and thought it would be great for us to all drive to Disney World for Christmas. We all left for Orlando at 7:00 one morning with my parents in one car and my brother, sister, and myself in another.
Everything was going fine until we got just south of Atlanta on I-75. I had turned around to get a piece of fudge from my sister and when i turned back around I was in the median. Not just two wheels but the entire car. Of course we were doing about 75mph and like an idiot I tried to pull back onto the interstate. Well we made a right hand turn across the interstate and proceeded to launch the car into a stand of trees. I remember closing my eyes because I didn’t want to see myself die. Luckily there were pine needles about a foot deep that stopped the car from going any deeper into the trees. We all had to get out of the passenger side because I had a tree about 6 inches away from the driver side door. We got out and inspected the damage and found that the driver side mirror and been dislodged (but easily put back in place) and a flat tire (which we suspect was the cause of the accident).
Of course my Dad saw this in his rearview mirror. By the time he and my Mother arrived at the car an ambulance and a police officer had already arrived. They were on their way to another accident and happened by this one. We told them we were OK and waved them on. We changed the flat tire and pushed the car out and were on our way in about 30 minutes.
Of course this turned out to be the year of a major winter storm in Northern FL. When we got to Valdosta, GA we hit ice. We spent the next 60 miles and 10 hours traveling in bumper to bumper traffic. What was normally a 2 lane interstate became 4 because people were using the median and shoulder. By this time my sister was a wreck and decided that she didn’t want to ride with my brother and I so she spent the rest of the trip with the parents.
When we finally arrived at the condo in Orlando about 7:00 the next morning it was about 30 degrees. Of course the office didn’t open until 8:00 and our bladders were about to explode so my brother and I made use of some convenient palm trees. About 8:00 we finally get the keys to our condo and when we try to unlock the door it won’t budge. We go back to the office and find out that of the hundreds of condos in the subdivision ours was one of the few that had their locks changed that week. We finally get the right keys and get into our condo. Whew we were glad to finally be there. Except for the fact that plumbing in this condo was frozen solid. After one more trip back to the office we were given a different condo. Fortunately this one was livable and we all collapsed in exhaustion. Luckily the rest of the trip was uneventful.
That was the last time my entire family ever took a vacation together.
If you think this story was interesting ask me about almost getting arrested during my wedding ceremony on the beach in Hilton Head…
Perfect summer evening in upstate New York. Newly married couple invite his parents to a summer stock musical. On the way (2 door 1951 hard top chevy)we have a flat. Newly married couple cooperatively change the tire - parents stay in the back seat. On our way again. As we’re turning the corner on a two lane country road almost at our destination, I ask, “did you tighten the lug nuts?” The reply…“I thought you did.” Before we could pull over and stop, the tire came off, landed underneath the metal hub, cradling it, the lug nuts were spewed all over the ditch at the side of the road.
Being the perfect summer evening that it was, everyone in the small town through which we were passing were sitting on their front porches watching the traffic go by. All the kids jumped off their stoops and helped us find and TIGHTLY screw the lug nuts back on.
No one was hurt. We were on time. The elders were most gracious. We enjoyed the show.
Moral…NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING!! it makes an “ASS” of “U” and “ME”
In the summer of 1978 a friend and I drove from the Boston area where we lived out to a recreational area near Coopers Lake PA for a special annual event. We used a car owned by my buddy?s uncle (a late model full sized Chrysler product with a big V-8). The trip was quite uneventful until we were in the far reaches of western PA at about 3:30 in the morning when the crossover pipe in the exhaust system decided to break.
Now, with our Chrysler running loud enough to wake up people two counties away, we were able to make some inquiries and found (this is the unbelievable part of the story) that there was a Midas Muffler shop nearby actually opened 24/7. We drove in. They heard us coming from two blocks away, and the mechanic was out in the lot to greet us with a smile as we cruised in. We got out to talk to the smiling mechanic. He said, still smiling, ?Can I help you??
My friend and I looked at each other, then back at the mechanic, and with no discussion or planning, said in unison, ?Midas-ize it!?.
An hour and about $350.00 later we were once again on the road.
It was a cool fall evening sometime in the mid 80?s when my wife and I decided to drive down from suburban Boston to attend a party down in Burriville Rhode Island in our 1971 Olds Omega. (Think: Chevy 2, its the same car). It had been doing funny things for a bit, handling wierd, cornering with some instability as well as shaking on and off at highway speed, but the problem had been going on for quite awhile and we figured we?d be ok.
It was about 8 PM, dark, and we?re trying to find the place. The address read ?Pole such and such?, and I have no idea how anyone else could find it. We saw a house with a big picture window and a guy sitting in his living room, and decided to knock and ask directions. But when I parked the car on the shoulder of this small road, the front end felt VERY weird. I got out and looked, and sure enough, the front wheels were not pointing in the same direction. The right outer tie rod end?s nut had vanished and the joint had popped out.
I called and the host came out with a car and helped me jack it up and reattach the tie rod end with some coathanger wire. We were only about a quarter mile from the party location, so we carefully drove there. We enjoyed the party, then left at about 3:30 AM, a Sunday morning, to insure there would be little traffic on Rt 95.
With the joint wired up with that coathanger, we were able to maintain a shaking speed of almost 35 mph in the breakdown lane, and only had to stop about every 5 miles to reattach it. We arrived home making that normally 1 hour trip in barely over 3 hours, I replaced the joint myself Monday morning, and had it aligned promptly less than a week later…
Dear Tom and Ray,
I’m not entirely sure that this counts as a road trip, but the experience did (eventually) renew my faith in the kindness of others. I live in the Tampa Bay area of Florida, and recently went to visit some friends that live a little more than an hour away for some dinner. About 95% of the way there, the heavens turned an inky black and opened up, dumping thunder and lightening and near-biblical amounts of rain down on me, of the sort that obscures the vision to about a foot and a half. Thinking that I was within two minutes of the restaurant where we were going to meet, I decided to, rather than pulling off, pull into the restaurant. I quickly realized, however, that at the very moment I made that decision, I was actually passing the restaurant.
After muttering a few choice words, I decided to continue on and find a place to either turn around or pull off to wait out the storm. Unfortunately, as I decided this, I also realized that I was plowing my car into two feet of standing water in the center lane of a six lane road, to which my car responded by not running anymore.
To make matters worse, I looked up into my rear-view mirror, then forward through the windshield, and saw lights as the police were blocking off both of the nearest intersections, each of which were about a half-mile away from where I was currently standing, and it was also painfully obvious that they couldn’t see me because I was stuck in vision-obscuring rain sans any functional lights.
I couldn’t leave my car in the middle of a six-lane road, but no tow truck or friend would be able to get through, so I did what any rational 28-year-old guy would do, and decided to push it. I’m assuming from hearing on the show what cars you’ve driven that you both know how hard pushing a car solo can be, so imagine doing that through two feet of standing water in the pouring rain. Yelling, snarling and screaming obscenities the whole way, I eventually got the car into an apartment complex that was about a quarter-mile down the road.
After catching my breath, I opened the hood, where I discovered that one of the battery posts had COMPLETELY MELTED. Unsure what to do from there, I was standing in the rain thinking, when I noticed there was a lady, a total stranger, standing in the doorway of one of the apartments waving at me. I walked over to her, where she explained that she had seen me, made me coffee, and offered me a beer. She invited me into her house where I stayed until the roads cleared in a couple hours, and took her up on both the coffee and the beer.
A friend came and picked me up, let me stay the nite at his house, and drove me to work the next day, when another friend took me back to my car. The engine, it turns out, was totally hydrolocked, and I wound up having to buy a new car, but if it weren’t for the kindness of friends and strangers alike, I’d probably still be standing in the rain.
Big fan of the show,
Jeremy
Summer of 1975. The car was a 1964 Ford Falcon, with a stick shift, 6 Cylinder and long history of problems. A friend and I both had business to take care of in NYC, with both matters located near Washington Square Park in the lower East Side of Manhattan, so we decided to make a trip down.
Getting there was uneventful. The car had been leaking water from some unknown place, so we brought along a big 5 gallon can of water. It wasn?t until we were literally parking at my friend?s business that we discovered the problem–the water pump was gone, leaking badly and rattling, about to fall apart altogether.
Well, I had some tools, my friend also had tools, but the nearest junk yard was in Jersey. We managed to take one of the tunnels over and find the pump and get it back without incident. Conveniently, the new pump was given to us with the fan blade already attached.
OK, so we took care of our business and departed to return to Boston. Everything was running smoothly, until about Bridgewater Connecticut, when we heard ?CHUNG–Clickety clickety clickety? and steam started pouring out of the font end.
Indeed, the fan blades WERE attached to the water pump–but only by rust. The bolts had been removed. The blade had finally pulled loose and gouged a gaping hole in the radiator.
Fortunately, we still had the old pump in the back. We took the bolts from that one and used them to secure the fan on the installed pump. We re-filled the radiator and hit the road, knowing that as long as we kept the car running at speed and didn?t slow down in traffic, the thermostat wouldn?t open. Every time we had to slow for traffic, the steam would start, we?d have to pull over, refill our water can, wait for the car to cool down, refill the cooling system and try again.
Took us about 6 hours to drive home. And about a pint of RUBBER CEMENT to patch the radiator (as well as pulling that ?dime? thing out from under the radiator cap to make sure the cooling system didn?t build up any pressure to blow out the patch!).
Most of these stories happen on vacation, or on personal trips. I do drive for a living, and this one happened in the middle of work one day…
I don?t even remember what kind of car I had for this one. Suffice it to say it had drum brakes in the back. And in the middle of a Friday afternoon rush hour, about 4 PM, I was near the end of A Street in South Boston, half way around the corner turning onto Congress Street, when the brakes locked up on me.
I wasn?t even done screaming my expletives when the horns started and people started calling me a variety of 7 to 10 letter perjoratives which can?t be quoted here. I tried shifting to reverse and back to drive, and it was clear something in the right rear had that wheel locked up as tight as a machine bolt thru the wheel.
I got out and jacked up the rear of the car, pulled the wheel off and, struggling for an extended time, managed to pry off the drum. Turned out that the brakes were very low, and that little brace that sits between the two shoes at the top of the assembly had fallen off and gotten wedged in the mechanism, causing the brakes to lock up. I pulled it out, put the thing back together with the remaining parts and managed to drive it as is for the rest of my shift.
A few years ago, there were unseasonal rains that caused flowers to bloom in Death Valley, California. We decided to drive from las vegas (home) to there. About 100 miles each way. It was easter sunday. It was a pleasant afternoon. we took lots of photos and ate at the coffee shop in town. As we were leaving, a motorist was putting two flat tires into his trunk. I thought nothing of it. It was 60 miles to the death valley park exit. about half way out of the park, We hear a loud bang, twice. It was immeadeatly known to be two flat tires on the passenger side. I managed to pull over to a turn out. We found out that there are no phones or cel service in the park. I managed to hitch a ride to the small town (9 buildings) out side the park. Luckily there was a phone booth. I called AAA and asked them to help. The operator was not in the USA. I asked if she know where death vally was. she said “no”. I told her I was 20 miles from Parump. She did not know it. In Nevada, it is the 2nd largest community near las vegas. She was going to dispatch a truck from the other side of the valley. I said no, parumph is closer, I could see the milage sign from the phone booth. She finnaly found it.
Then she says, “just wait by your car!” I said have the driver pick me up at the entrance to the park. she said, that is against policy. I got a supervisor and told the story. After 15 minutes,she agreed to the ride. The driver picks me up, and during the ride to the car says, “this is my eighth double flat here today” As we approached our car, another one was by the road in the same fix. It was from potholes formed by the big rainstorm. When there, he dragged the car onto his tilted flatbed. If I knew that was going to happen, I would have changed one of the flats with the donut spare. After minimal sparks from the drag, we were on our way. We were almost home two hours later. I convinced the driver to stop by our house so that my wife could pick up our other car and follow us to the tire company. AAA roadservice paid for the entire towing to las vegas, and the tires were replaced for free by the tire company as under warenty. I think there is a lesson here, but not sure.
My son and I had planned a road trip to visit my friends in Wyoming. We planned to stop at various places off-the-beaten-path on our way there (we had places ON-the-beaten-path to visit too!). We headed out around 2PM on a Fri. afternoon with the intent to put in at least 6 hours of driving to get closer to our 1st planned stop. I drove the first 2 hours on the minor highway before turning the driving on the major highway over to my son. He’d been driving MAYBE 30 minutes when disaster struck! He was in the left lane on a curve trying to pass a vehicle when the right front tire exploded! Tire shreds flew all over! He pulled off onto the V-shaped median and stopped. He got on the cell phone and called Highway Patrol for assistance. There was NO WAY we could change the tire ourselves due to the steep V-shape of the median and the hazardous traffic flying by us. After being transferred to the correct district he spoke to a patrolman and was asked WHERE we were. There were no mile-markers in sight and I wasn’t getting out to look for one! We were told that it would be 45 minutes or so before he could find us. We told him we weren’t going anywhere! It was in the mid-90’s temperature-wise and very humid so waiting was a bit uncomfortable but…Approxiamately 40 minutes later a tow truck pulled up beside us! The driver told us someone had seen the tire blow and had stopped to send him back to help us! There are nice people in this world! Right after he showed up, the Highway Patrolman showed up. The 2 rescuers had a discussion and then the HP left. Marvin, the tow truck driver, directed us forward so he could hook the tow hooks up to the truck so he could change the tire. After changing the tire (he charged us $25!!!) he directed us to a nearby WalMart for new tires. We got the new tires for the front (I bought road hazard on them!) and we headed off down the road. 21 miles down the road the left rear tire blew! We pulled off at the end of an entrance ramp and swore loudly and long!!! We started to change the tire ourselves but ran into difficulties with the spare tire wrench device that lowers the tire out of the well it sits in under the bed of the truck. It was getting dark, we were stressed, hot and tired so I went up the ramp to the truck stop there for help. They gave me the phone number of a tire fix-it guy. I called him and he asked how we would pay him. I told him “cash” and he said he’d be “right there”. When he got there he also had “issues” with the wrench device - discovered we’d been trying to use the wrong end but finally he and my son got the spare tire down. It was full dark by now - they were using cap-lights to see what they were doing. The tire got changed. Bob charged us $65 - took all the cash my son and I had between us. He smiled rather nastily when he stated, “Took all your cash didn’t I?”. He did direct us to nearby motels and another WalMart for tires. Needless to say my son drove at the minimum speed to get to the exit where the motels and WalMart were. It took 5 trys to find a motel that had a room for us - it was 10:30PM by now - but when we did, we CRASHED!!! We were at WalMart the next morning at 7:30AM. We were told that their air compressor wasn’t working but it shouldn’t be too long before it got up and running. We did the papaerwork and started waiting. I decided to call the place I bought the tires from to notify them of the disaster we’d had. They asked what we’d run over. I told them “Nothing. It was a sidewall blowout on BOTH tires.” I was told that I hadn’t purchased road hazard on the tires so I couldn’t expect any money back from Goodyear. These tires - Goodyear Fortera’s - had around 20,000 miles on them, had been maintained well but still they blew out. I decided that I was going to carry the tire around on vacation to take it in for inspection. I went out and asked the WalMart workers to put the tire in the bed of the truck. The new tires were put on, there was a tire in the truck bed so we headed out. My son had taken a photo of the 2nd tire but I wanted physical proof of the blowout. When we got to our motel that night we discovered that the tire in the truck bed was the GOOD tire NOT the blowout! So…I will say that after getting 4 new tires we didn’t have anymore trouble on our trip and had a GREAT time!!!
Oh Yah.....I rented a motor home from an individual who was laying under the front of it when I pulled up to take it home. I should have left but was excited to begin the adventure..Got home to load up ,wife wanted to get some supplies from the grocery.I drove it there and being new to tall driving I ignored the pipe on chains designed to limit truck access ,tore off both roof vents.Duct tape is good. We left the next morning. We were going from Houston to Wally-World-Orlando.All was fun until we left Texas. In Louisiana I-10 goes over the Swamp with a steep bridge. As we climbed we lost power. And we just made it over the hill. Got going again. Next hill four loud blasts like someone wanted us out of there.Out of gas 16 gallon tank on a motor home? As we attacked the next hill engine quit. Rolled over the top and only place to go was an off ramp ( the ramp to hell ) It took us DOWN into a boat ramp next to the swamp. I swear I could hear banjos playing. I was checking out the engine when a "car' pulled up. More of them than us.Coveralls and army boots.They needed radiator water(we had 50 gallons of drinking water).I needed a battery jump. Far trade. Women were safe.Moved back to the 20th century on I-10 they went back into the swamp.
Next day I found out my wife is terrified of tunnels. We had to go from Mobile,Alabama to Florida under the bay.She curled up into the fetal position and screamed hurry .Her eyes were closed. Stopped at a really crooked garage off the track in some swamp ,again,he said we needed an alternator, sounded reasonable to me. $250.00 and 3 hours later we were on the road again.
We camped on a beach in Florida,lovely evening. Last leg of the trip,late afternoon it began to rain and rain and rain,DARK.On went the wipers off went the headlights and slowly the engine tried to quit.This was now a quest Me against the elements and the machine.Rage against the machine.I alternated between lights or wipers to keep it running.It was then I found out my wife didn’t like riding in a vehicle with only lights or wipers, one or the other.Fetal position. Remember the roof vents I tore off the first day? they leaked big time on the kid’s beds.
we did make it to Wally World…I was triumphant … Disney campgrounds are awesome. They also have names of mechanics who will come to the camp and check out problems. Seems the renter put in four new batteries but had forgotten to tighten one of the battery cables. this created low power and the odd functions of the vehicle. the end
About 25 years ago, when I was rooming with my sister in Alexandria, VA, our cousin got married in Medford, MA. For some reason we had to return to VA immediately after the evening wedding, so naturally I was a bit fatigued, and with my sister driving, fell asleep around 1 a.m. sometime before we crossed the Hudson River. I awoke with a start somewhere on the Jersey Turnpike, sensing that something was terribly wrong – and it was. My sister, who had spent the day stripping the ceiling of my parent’s living room with some pretty strong solvent, and who had not eaten much before the wedding, was driving along at a pretty good clip even for the Turnpike, vomiting out her wide open window. Needless to say, not all of the particulates stayed outside the car, many hitting her, me and the inside of my new Chevy Chevette. With some difficulty, I managed to convince her to stop, let me take over the driving, and get us to the next rest area, where we did our best to clean up. Despite a thorough cleaning the next day, my little car was never the same, and became known to my 20-something friends as the Vomitmobile. Definitely the worst road trip of my life.