That’s right–I spent three or so hours at an Oasis between Chicago and Rockford IL yesterday because my friend’s car broke down. It was however a bit more dramatic than my imagination had planned.
Driving 70 or so miles an hour, the motor begins to sound like a lawn mower. I comment on this new development (previously it was letting off a nice reassuring ticking noise). My friend being a perfectly intelligent woman responds with, “Let’s turn up the radio so we can’t hear it.”
I’m pretty sure that is what Click and Clack would have suggested too.
Anyhoo, she then decides to call her husband. So there we are catapulting along in a crazed lawn mower and she starts toying with the ear bud and kind of fumbling with her phone. Same time, she decides to pull over–so edges toward the shoulder. We are still going 60 or so I would guess. Add the reassuring sound of those combed lines in the asphalt. Yeah. So I’m thinking DON’T PULL OVER WE WILL NEVER START AGAIN! (I do have prior experience with this I have to say.) But before I can voice my slight concern, the car jerks, then clunks, then pieces (and smoke) start flying out the back behind us.
So there were are–my friend white knuckling the steering wheel, the phone still gripped in her hand–flying along the shoulder. Luckily we were RIGHT by the Oasis exit, and we continue our shot up the exit ramp, through the lane by the gas station and toward the Oasis building. I being, completely demented, am cracking up the whole way–because really it was just too funny for words–except for the fact that we had no ability to acclerate, brake or steer. Thank heaven the car waiting at the stop sign by the gas station actually stopped.
My friend was a tad wild eyed as we approached the Oasis, still going at least 40. I was a bit concerned she was going to shoot right through the glass doors of the building, but again, luck was on our side and there was a parking spot open right in front. We fly into it, my friend shoves it into park and the combination of that and hitting the curb jerked us to a stop.
It was lovely–as were the oil and transmission fluid flowing from under the car.
For your own personal reference–it was a Ford, it was five years old, and there was a hole in the engine block. Use the information wisely.
Lori
Now that I’ve gotten both sides of the story, I do have to say, making it safely to a pitstop when stuff goes flying through the engine at 65-70 mph is, saying lightly, having an angel watching over your shoulder. So glad to hear you two weren’t seriously hurt! Flying pieces and smoke pouring out of the hood is a little more dramatic–and nerve-wracking–than popping a tire going 55 mph down the road–although, that’s scary as hell, too.
Glad to see both of you are going to be hanging around yet for awhile. And K.–the shaking part–that’s perfectly natural. Heck, if you hadn’t shook, I’d be wondering if you’re made out of Teflon.
And having spark plugs pinging out of the engine…yeah, that’s a major expense, not to mention a huge pain in the neck; the car won’t move without those darn plugs in place, but when they’re stripped, you’re kinda out of luck…
by Ann Curtis February 5th, 2007 at 4:02 pmHey, at least we landed at a place with a Starbucks, Sbarro Pizza, McDonalds, and massage chairs, cause baby, it was cold outside! :oD
New car shopping starts Friday. The car (not that I would EVER get in it again) is a total loss. I suggested to my husband we go back to Illinois and beat the thing with baseball bats, but that does seem a bit extreme.
But the angels part…yep, someone was looking out for us. I’m just thankful we are in one piece.
by "the friend" February 5th, 2007 at 4:33 pmRemember at the holiday party how I said that acting scenes out helps with writing the details of the scenes? Which of you gets to use this little incident in a book?
Stop laughing, Lori, and write out the humorous details.
Deb
by Deb B February 6th, 2007 at 2:01 pm