Monday, August 21, 2006

F---ing Cars

I left my parent's house a little after noon, last Sunday the 13th, for those who maybe confused),thinking that it’d be a good way to beat the crazy traffic heading out of Cowtown. And it was. There were people on the road, but it wasn’t insane, and I figured that I’d beat the most horrible traffic. I was probably right, too.

I was singing along to the music (I don't remember what it was) when I saw a CHP car behind me with its lights spinning and its headlights doing that bizarre alternating flash thing. There wasn't a siren, but I figured that I'd better follow the law and pull off to the right. The CHP car passed about ten more cars when it turned to block the lane at an intersection. The officer got out of his car and started to drop orange cones in the road. I knew what that meant: a grass fire along the highway. Some jackass probably threw a cigarette out the window into the dry grass.

That sort of thing has happened to me before, so I cut my engine. The last time it happened it delayed me over an hour and I was stuck behind a full garbage truck in 100+ degree weather. Misery. That sort of a time delay was not to be, however, and I knew it from the get go because we were right at an intersection and with a left then one right and then one more left, I'd be back on the correct highway. Of course, it took fifteen minutes before the CHP officer let us make that first left. Ah, well, it was time basking in the rising temperature of my car as the sun caressed me through the windshield. I finally started when I saw the officer stand and, as usual, my car started with a groan and a growl.

The left, the right, and the other left later, and I was back on the highway cruising toward, in a roundabout way, The Northbay.

At the point where they highway goes from two lanes to four and then the opposite directions split apart all together, I noticed that my battery was at a lower number than it usually is when I’m driving. Then I heard this strange sound; I even rolled up the windows to hear it better. Then I looked at the gauges again and noticed that the temperature had climbed to near the red. (Whenever the temperature gets that high, I get a little freaked out, since I have killed an engine through overheating. The guy who drove the car before me put the damn hose on backward, so the reinforced end was in air and the regular end was up against the hot, hot, so very hot engine.) I immediately pulled over and hoped that, even though I added some before I left, the water was low. As I was moving on to the shoulder, I turned on the hazard lights. This was just over the top of the first real hill after the highway split, miles from any pay phone.

I popped the hood and stepped out of my car, after checking to make sure there was no traffic whizzing by that could rip the door off my car. Immediately, I heard the hissing of steam trying to blow the cap off the radiator. I started to curse at my car. Then I realized that, even though I doubt it, if my car could hear me, it probably wouldn't like the cursing, so I turned my back to my car and started cursing at the landscape. I raised the hood and looked at the water reservoir, empty. I looked at the engine and noticed that one of the belts was loose. I looked closer. Sure enough, one belt was loose, and so was the other. The other, in fact was shredded. I was going no where.

See, my dad and I replaced the belts in my car once before. It's not easy. A six year old would have trouble getting his arm to fit in there and a crowbar is needed to apply tension to the belts. We decided that the easiest way, but not the cheapest way, to put belts on my car would be to pull the entire engine out, slip new belts on, tighten it, and put the engine back. I think it took us about five hours to get the belts on last time. There was no way I was going to be able to do that on the side of the road. Plus, I don't have any tools in my car to do it with.

For the next twenty minutes, I tried to wave down a car, or truck, or whatever so I could use a phone and call a tow truck. No luck. So I decided to walk back the way I came because, even though it was far away, I knew there was a pay phone in that direction. I put some water in my bag and started walking. I passed two ranches on my walk, both had locked gates. A CHP car drove by, but didn't stop. After an hour of walking, I came across a stranded mobile home (Which ironically had shredded a belt, too. But for them, to replace a belt, all they needed was a new belt, a ratchet, and a person willing to do the work. They were waiting for one of the people's mother to bring a new belt.) and borrowed a phone.

I called a tow truck.

Twenty minutes later, it picked me up at the mobile home. Five minutes later, my car was loaded up. Thirty minutes later, my car was being dropped off at my grandparent's house (about 10 miles away from my parent's house) and I was using my credit card to pay $155 for the tow. Fifteen minutes later, my uncle was driving me back to my parent's, who were in Baja California, house. After I arrived, I started looking for keys to their cars so I could "borrow" one of them so I could get back to The Northbay. I did.

Nine and a half hours after my first one, I was in the shower washing the dust and sweat from my walk off of me.

3 comments:

Queenie said...

I find most cars like to be rubbed and called 'baby'.
Sorry for your awful day--and the cost of the tow.

Q

ticknart said...

I can't bring myself to call a person "baby" without puting "a" or "the big" in front of it, how could I bring myself to call my car "baby"?

Anonymous said...

sorry that your car decided to reject the belt from before. wish i would have known about it, I would have happily come get you, although i was at work that time :(