Ever Had a Road Trip from Hell?

Maintenance/Repairs
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501

I just returned from taking a 4,682 mi. road trip on a combination of interstates, state/county roads through NE, IA, MO, IL, KY, TN, MS, LA, AR, and back to CO. My 1990 Honda Civic with 223480 on the odometer, performed like a frisky 10 yr. old Civic. I had checked her to the Good Hands Auto Care shop in Aurora (a blatent plug for a great auto repair place), instructing the technicians that I wanted a thorough physical performed on the car, all the fluids checked/replaced, tire alignment, all that stuff. The head tech told me that she was good to go.

I had a great road trip, traveled easily, hung out with some old buds in several towns along the way (and free B&B). I arrived back in Aurora at dusk after 2 long days of steady interstate driving crossing AR, OK, into CO. Relieved to get out from behind the wheel, I shut the Honda down in the driveway, and it hasn’t started since.

It cranks, but there’s no ignition. This has happened episodically with this car for the past 4 years. It’s been diagnosed by the Good Hands techs. The difference is that before when the car would crank, not start, I’d turn the ignition off, sit for a few minutes, crank it, and it would start, but sometimes I had to crank it 5 or 6 times before it would fire up. This occurs at any time. There is no pattern. It will start first time for 3 months, and then not start every time for a day, or 2 days, but it always started. I cranked it about 30 times yesterday without getting ignition.

Naturally, every time the car’s been in the shop I’ve told them about this problem, they check the ignition system, the fuel injection system, etc., and of course, the car starts every time while sitting in the bay.

I should add a brief history of the car’s engine, which is not the original. A few months after I bought it from the head maintenance man at the Colorado School of Mines a few years ago, I was doing 75 on an interstate, and the car lurched, the dashboard lit up like a Xmas tree, and I rolled to the shoulder along with the other roadkill. I knew instantly what had happened. I called to be rescued, and had the car towed to Good Hands a couple of days later, where the techs installed a "Japanese ‘take-out’ engine, guaranteed not to have more than 30 grand on it.

Engine worked well, but shortly thereafter, this occasional “I’m not starting right now” event would occur, but eventually, it did start.

Any suggestions out there? Bob? Ray? Any 1990 Honda Civic owners? Bill Richey, Aurora, CO

502

Almost the road trip from hell

Driving to Las Vegas southbound l-15, in southern Utah. Just after passing a 18 wheeler down a hilly stretch I encountered a Bald eagle, who had picked up a large piece of carnage from the right lane shoulder and took off in flight. across the highway. Calculating his flight as if knowing he was not going to clear my front end, he descended immediately from flight dropping precisely onto the white line between lanes
 I already had hit the brakes anticipating a grill full o’ feathers, but luckily he missed me and I missed him. He stood there, head as tall as the hood of my saab, with roadkill clenched tight in his jaws. I looked up as I passed by, and he took flight once again. So scary a moment, but so beautiful a sight and memorable encounter with the raptor-kind.

503

“GOING TO CAROLINA IN MY MIND” and through my wallet, too! This is my ("Mother and Father) of all Christmas Road Trip(s) to Hell & Back Road Trip. Way back in 79, wow, 30 years ago(!) I ventured forth in my shiny Cherry Red VW 1970 Super Beetle (or SuperBug) from the warmer realm of Walt Disney World’s Ft. Wilderness Campground Resort, (where I was driving buses for hotel guests), bringing with me wrapped presents to hand off to my brother Michael and his wife and young son, at the Citadel in Charleston, SC where my brother had just started his illustrious career teaching history at his alma mater a few years before. He was supposed to be the “cut-off” player and I was supposed to make just one and only one trip to Carolina. Turned out my Super Beetle had less than super alternative plans: for instance, CROAKING on the Interstate.

Before getting that far along my journey, I knew this wasn’t going to be my usual kind of haul up I-95 sorta road trip. Nothing like getting out of work at 2 a.m. and having to scrape a thick layer of ice from my front & back windshields with a credit card because I forgot to bring along a scraper when I left western Massachusetts in October. What the H, I didn’t think I’d be driving buses for Mickey and/or finishing up my shifts up at 2 in the morning, esp. in one of Florida’s foggiest places imaginable. This was an “in-between” job while waiting for a state probation/parole officer’s position. I guess what happened on I-95 was a “precursor penance” or real bad omen for somebody who was willing to take a job driving buses for people who paid big bucks to see people dressed up in animal suits before he took his next job supervising and doing backup investigations on what most people think are real bad characters, aka animals pretending to be humans. After taking the state job, I was practically banging (unsuccessfully) for my old job driving people around who wanted to see the faux animals acting in very goofy ways.

Well, it looks like my mind drifted from Carolina 
 almost like my car a few times no matter how many coffees I consumed, but only after I made it safely past the junction between I- 4 & 95 at Daytonna. OK, truthfully, no accidents, spinarounds, motor seizures (YET! – hold on 
 ) but there’s nothing like after scraping ice from your windshield with a credit card to getting the crappers before your trip and motor really heads into the crapper.

Relieved, and no problems despite one flashing of the red “Check Engine” IDIOT LIGHT for oil, which I dutifully complied. Mind you, this car had already been up and down the East Coast on several road trips during my single years; with one of those trips highlighted by some Bubba looking to bag several hundred dollars worth of Yankee cash by just jiggling one of my (innermost) spark plugs when I only asked him to check the oil. Nothing like making it home to New England from just north of Savannah, GA on 3 out of four sparkplugs fully sparking and one barely plugged in by ductape.

This time my Super Beetle’s luck ran out, despite all the oil I pumped into her, not to mention bucks having to get a couple of replacement motors enroute to my Carolina Roadtrip to Hell and Back. And what a helluva coincidence that she’d CROAK with a thrown rod while passing beautiful and unforgettable Coosawatchie, South Carolina, JUST NORTH OF 
 SAVANNAH – My poor car’s version of the Bermuda Triangle.

Hmmmm, now what was I supposed to do? Well, thankfully I’d just passed a truck stop (now at least called “Tiger 11”) at the unforgettable intersection of I-95 Frontage Rd. and Coosaw Scenic Dr., within easy walking distance from where she (temporarily) up n’ died. Since it wasn’t illegal for a car to die on the Interstate, I got to make two phone calls, one to the State Police to tell 'em my woes and ask for surveillance and /protection and the other to beg my older and much esteemed academic on the rise professor brother.

There’s nothing like sleeping on a bumpy couch in a smokey truck stop in Coosawatchie while waiting for your older brother to come and rescue you, not to mention the (expected) lifetime’s worth of woe and grief I was bound to catch just for [his] entertainment’s sake. Academic hotshot or not, he’s still my older brother and, well, if you have one, you know what they’re like, or if you are one, you know what fun you can have with this kind of “teaching moment.” (Tom and Ray sure know!)

Michael shows up after finishing giving exams, examines my Beetle and pronounces her as “croaked.” In the meantime, he borrowed his father-in-law’s late 70’s Dodge SW with a ball hitch welded to the back. Phew, was I relieved. Not only did he hitch the car up, but I’d be riding in a newer car with a better heater. Not so fast, Michael said. “Whaaaa
?” I replied with some genuine astonishment. "

“No chains,” he said. NO CHAINS??? "Yep, hey, I got this much (the hitching gear for the VW) from the last rent-a-hitch guy open near the Navy Base, and he wasn’t operating a franchise."
Goes to show, no chains from a no-chain outfit. And I’m left thinking how much more “interesting” can this trip just to drop presents off for him to give our parents up north, actually get.

Well, soon enough I was to find out while sitting in my VW, with no hands on the steering wheel, UNLESS (and I didn’t want to know what THAT meant.) Soooo, just as we arrive in Charleston after taking the scenic and most direct US 17/92, seacoast route, we approach the old (and quite sensational, as in fanny tingling metal) bridge taking us across the Ashley River and then to a series of rather tricky cornering maneuvers to get into the Citadel.

Good thing God is forgiving: I was alternatingly crossing myself and cursing my brother in language for which the pope would’ve surely had me fried on the spot! Not to mention our parents.

No sooner than we arrived we started making arrangements for the repair and we settled on a couple of mechanics, which happened to be back on the other side of the same river. But, okay, this time the mechanics will have a decent tow truck; right?

NOPE! These two guys show up, look at my old girl and get ready to tow her back over the river, in keelhaul style: A Rope Tow! A ROPE TOW! On top of that, I’ve still gotta make plane arrangements, rent a car for a week and pray these ol’ boys will at least get my baby back over that bridge in one piece. A ROPE TOW??? OVER THAT BRIDGE?? ARE YOU NUTS??

“Hey, beggars, and you’re not much better than one right now,” he tersely replied, and, of course, added with an elder sibling’s characteristic style spiced with some venemous sarcasm (which he no doubt felt I deserved several times over) 
 “You’re damn lucky they weren’t located on the other side of the Cooper River Bridge.” That got my attention and shut me up.

Anybody familiar with that sucker? Think of Charleston (MA)'s Mystic River Bridge only three times longer and a helluvalot scarier, even without Massachusetts drivers.

It’s been 30 years and I can’t recall how much it cost me; but when I think of all the memories I got out of that car 
 with apologies to Humphrey Bogart, “I’ll always have Coosawatchie” 
 (and) 
 Carolina on my mind."

504

me and my dad were driving from emmetsburg to rapid city or some where nesr there in a 95 pontiac boneville and we were on the interstate and they have gutrenching potholes we were going 75-85 mph at the time and i swear we saw sparks every time we hit a pothole and when we got to the campsite we were going to stay at we set up our tent and didnt drive for the rest of the day. twards the end of the trip our food spoiled we had raw meat and eggs and milk which were stored in styrofoam coolars with a thermomiter in each one. and this car had leather seats not vinal they sucked in the winter time but now he doesnt drive the boneville

505

We had a “highway Robbery” incident at a popular visitor spot in South Dakota when our 2002 Chevy S-10 pickup (with approximately 65,00 miles on it) was a victim of the high ethanol content in the gas we had purchased on our business trip. Our fuel pump quit and left us stranded at the mercy of the local dealership. The tow truck driver was unsympathetic when he shared with us that he “got a few of these a month!due to the effect of the ethanol on the seals in the pump.” He also told us that a relative of his had finally cut a hole in the bed of his similar pickup to make changing the pump a lot easier. When we asked if we could quote him to the dealership, he deferred, noting that the company he drove for had a contract with that dealership.
$1250 later (every penny we had in our savings) we felt that the outlaws of the Old West were truly still alive and thriving. We were stranded, my shade-tree mechanic husband had no tools with him and any of our friends were over a thousand miles away. The dealership would not budge on the price and seemed to only care that we were at his mercy. The only concession he gave was to offer us a shuttle to the cheapest Motel in town (all we could afford!) When we got back home and told our local dealer (one of the good guys) they were appalled! They said they would only have charged less than half that to do the very same work. No warrantee and no hope of getting our money back has led us to buy a newer car with full warantee so we can continue to travel our beautiful America without fear of being ROBBED at wrench-point!!

507

I have always wanted to do some wild and crazy road trip, so the summer of 2009 I did. I love music and my favorite musician is Kid Rock. That summer he was headlining a tour with Lynyrd Skynyrd and Blackstone Cherry. I had previously been to seven Kid Rock shows dating back to 2001 and the summer of 2009 I decided to add three more.

I had carefully planned this trip for months. I was going with a girl bartender from my favorite local watering hole. The only thing we had in common was the we both loved Kid Rock. We had never hung out outside of the bar, did not even know each other?s last names when we started planning the trip. We were leaving from Charleston, WV to Cincinnati, OH for a Wednesday night show; then to Raleigh, NC for a Friday night show; then to Virginia Beach for a Saturday night show. Then we were going to spend a few relaxing days in the sun before we headed back home.

I was also recently single and scored an extra set of tickets to the Cincinnati show. So, I asked this guy that I was somewhat interested in if he would like to go and he accepted.

It was a cold rainy July day, to be the middle of summer it was only about 65 degrees. I picked up my bartender friend and we heading to Huntington to pick up my guy friend. Then we were on the road to Cincy. I had printed out directions from Mapquest that took us on OH 73. The other two backseat drivers suggested we take the old AA highway, but were not sure which road to take to make the switch. In the end we followed my directions.

About an hour and a half in to the trip I took a sharp turn on OH 73 and before I even knew it I was fishtailing right, then left then right again. At that point I noticed two on coming cars at which point I choose to turn left and take my 10 month old 2008 Pontiac G6 with 10,000 miles on it in to a hill side. I had my car almost to a stop when I hit the hillside. No air bags were deployed, no injuries, just one messed up car ($8000+ I would later find out) and a vacation up in the air. No one had cell phone service so I decided to try out my Onstar.

Let me take a moment to say Onstar is AMAZING!! I pressed the little red emergency button and got a cop, (who ticketed me for “Failure to Maintain”) and a tow truck dispatched to my location. I used the blue button to have an Onstar advisor look up a phone number for me. Then I used the Onstar phone to call Enterprise to ?Pick Me Up? from the side of the road and they did. I rented a car and continued on my vacation.

My traveling companions made the rest of the ride to Cincinnati a little rough. I was driving an unfamiliar car, that I ended up hating. I had to stop twice for them, once to eat and once for gas. Then there was the nagging, ?slow down?, ?watch out?, ?don?t do that?. They made me a nervous wreck. But I’m such a rock star that I still made it to the show by the time Lynyrd Skynyrd took the stage.

Despite everything it turned out to be the best vacation ever!!

PS. Still single, still rockin? out, and still lovin? my Pontiac G6.

508

From my personal experience, neither me or my husband didn’t have a bad road trip. But I have had a hell of a trip at the beginning of my marriage. We were on a carnival cruises trip and my husband’s parents wanted to go with us. For about two weeks, my mother-in-law didn’t even mime a smile.

509

No, never . If I want a trip from hell I will ride Amtrak; they are the experts on travel from hell.

Dennis
Waunakee, WIstrong text

510

Driving in to Flagstaff, Arizona, one Saturday evening in the early fall of 1960, on a coast to coast trip from Long Island, New York, to Los Angeles, California, we noticed our 1955 Ford Fairlane convertible feel like “twisting sideways” when the brakes were applied. At that time, we were both seventeen and could barely spell auto mechanics. As we drove deeper into the downtown area, we spotted an Esso station and pulled in. The station attendant willingly put our car on the lift to take a look at the underside. He told us we had a blown rear wheel seal and were spewing gear oil all over the brakes. He was not certified to make the repairs but his friend, also at the station, knew of someone who could. A quick drive North of town to a private residence ended with a confirmation of repair the next morning at 9:00 AM. We showed up that next morning, Sunday, promptly at nine. At 10:00 AM, our Mechanic finally emerged from his house, severely hung over from an evening of celebration at the Museum Club, one of the few places in Flagstaff that offered alcoholic beverages. We were grateful that he was willing to help us that Sunday morning though. The repairs were made within an hour at a cost of $35.00. What a deal! We returned to our journey that morning heading South through Oak Creek Canyon. My friend John was a big Zane Gray reader and wanted to see the area. About an hour away, we began hearing what can only be described as a horrible grinding noise coming from the rear end. We had all kinds of bad thoughts. Did he make a mistake putting back the axle? Did something else break?? We looked under the car and saw nothing out of the ordinary. We proceeded on down out of the mountains and into the desert. The grinding noise persisted intermittently as we drove. About 2:00 AM we pulled into a gas station/cafĂ©. There was a “Mechanic on duty” sign posted and so we asked how much the mechanic wanted to put the car on the lift and remove the rear wheel. Two dollars was a bargain so we gave him the go. The car went up, the rear tire was removed, and as he slowly pulled off the brake drum, out popped a 9/16 in socket. The culprit was identified!! The mechanic inspected the brakes and put everything back together. After a bite to eat we continued on our journey arriving in Los Angeles later that morning. I started College that fall at California State Polytechnic College, in San Luis Obispo, California, that fall and stayed for five years. I made the coast to coast trip eight times during those years, mostly uneventful.

511

Pretty much any road trip of any distance with my wife. She’s a terrible backseat driver in the best of times and road trips only exaggerate the problem. We’re supposed to drive 600 miles each way for our niece’s graduation in a couple of years and I’m already looking at Amtrak schedules.

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512

Can’t really say we’ve had any big mishaps that were not reasonably taken care of. I guess my worst trip though was driving from London to Lancaster. First time, round abouts, wrong side of the road, and confusing road signs. When I got to our hotel, I parked the car and never wanted to get in it again. Next trip we took the train.

513

hello can anyone help me out in my doubts

514

Not unless you provide a lot more information.

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515

Friends road trip to Mardi Gras. They rented an rv, and took turns driving and sleeping. One guy decided to get off the I and drive south, woke up the next guy to drive. He drove about an hour until he realized they were going the wrong direction.

516

I’ve had a road trip TO Hell
 Hell Michigan. For Lunch. A hot lunch, of course
 :hot_face:

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517

Years ago in Colorado my bro-in-law bought a used truck for $100, decided to take several family members for a test drive, maybe 75 miles one-way, to a place in the boon-docks with a lot of sand. Started about 7 am. About every 25 miles something would break, have to stop and make a home-brew temp repair. Eventually we made it to the sand, then promptly got stuck, tire failed while spinning tire to get out of sand, and had to change the tire in the sand. Jack would sink into the sand faster than we could jack the wheel up. 
 lol
 eventually got back home about 3 am.

518

I doubt anyone here can help you out with your doubts because we do not now what they are.
The only advice I can give you is stick with your intuition. it is usually correct. If something does not feel right, it probably is not.

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519

Common expression used in the Indian subcontinent. Means uncertain and wishing to clarify. Poster likely has car problem, new to Car Talk forums, and inadvertently posted to this unrelated and old topic.

@surbhijais 
 for best results suggest to post your car-related problem again, as a new topic. Click maintenance/repairs upper left, then new topic upper right. Include make/model/year/engine/transmission configuration.

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520

That is definitely good advice, but because he/she has not returned to this forum after posting that extremely enigmatic statement four days ago, I tend to doubt that he/she will even see your suggestion.

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