*sigh*

[kevyn]

So, I'm on my way up to Vancouver last night in Tan Trash, anxious and desperately in need of spending some time in the arms of my lovers.

And, I make it to within 75 miles of Vancouver, when something weird happens.

There's a thud in the engine, and a grinding whirrrrrrrrrrrrrr sound, and I start losing power. I pull over, and pop the hood, scared to death of what may have happened.

The bungee cord holding the battery in place had come loose, and the battery had fallen over into the radiator fan. The whirring sound was the fan blades grinding into the battery casing, which was in turn chewing up the fan blades.

"Oh, cool," I think. "It's not as bad as I thought. I know how to fix this!"

So I move the battery back to where it needed to be, and re-attached the wayward bungee cord. I start the engine, and it appears everything that is supposed to be turning is actually turning normally, so I close the hood and set out again, hopeful that all was well, and that no major damage was done.

No such luck. Something sure was wrong. The engine was now making a strange knocking sound, and I couldn't get the truck to go faster than 40mph, which isn't a great speed to be going on the interstate. I stop, pop the hood again, can't find anything wrong. So I set out again, hoping that I wouldn't have to drive 40mph all the way to Vancouver.

And then, a few miles later, things really start to go wrong.

Just north of Burlington, WA, as I am puttering up a hill, I hear a car honking behind me. I look in my rear-view mirror.

I am billowing copious amounts of smoke. And now I can see what looks like radiator fluid boiling up from under the hood. FUCK!

I pull over along the shoulder, and pop the hood. The radiator overflow hose that attaches to just under the radiator cap has detached/blown off, and there is radiator fluid EVERYWHERE.

I re-attach it, and re-fill the radiator (fortunately I had been carrying an extra jug of the stuff). Then I let it cool a bit, and try to re-start the engine.

The engine won't turn over, and another huge cloud of foul-smelling smoke issues from the exhaust pipe and from under the hood. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

I'm numb. I think I've blown the engine. And Cara, who gave me Tan Trash, is going to be SO pissed, because she told me she didn't want me driving to Canada in it again. (But do I ever listen?)

I'm on the verge of tears. What am I going to do now? I call Michael (emmorium) & Terry, and tell them I am out in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt and I don't think I am going to be able to come visit them this weekend. I'm not even sure how I will be able to get home, much less pay to have Tan Trash fixed, or even towed.

They say they will see what they can do (they don't have a car -- they don't need one, living in Vancouver), and then I call my insurance company. They tell me that yes, my policy covers roadside assistance and towing. They'll be dispatching a tow truck, which will arrive in about an hour. Thank the gods I paid that policy payment this morning!

Then the fire trucks show up. Someone had seen all the smoke, and reported a car fire. Of course, there isn't one, and there's nothing they can do, so they leave.

The cell phone rings again, and it's Michael telling me that the cavalry is on the way - Roz and he are driving down to get me. HOORAY! (Michael writes more about this in his journal entry about the crisis.)

So, I sit and wait, stewing in my own numbness and despair. This is three lemons in a row that have died on me. I'm reaching the end of my rope, and I don't know what I am going to do if this vehicle can't be repaired (much less facing the wrath of Cara). If I can't drive, how can I get to work? If I can't work, how can I afford a vehicle? I live in a place where most temp jobs are not served by bus lines!

It starts to rain.

After an hour, the tow truck arrives, and loads the truck up. The driver smokes, and as we drive to the nearest town - Burlington - I can't stand it any more, and ask him for a smoke. He gives it to me, and I light up. (Fortunately, it was only one, and I haven't had any in the 16 hours since. Fall off the wagon, climb back on).

He takes me to Burlington, where we arrive just in time to drop the truck off at an auto repair shop that is just about to close for the weekend. They won't be able to look at it until Monday.

So, I walk next door into a redneck bar, and order a beer, and wait. I got nothing better to do, and it beats waiting in the rain - plus the alcohol numbs the pain a little.

One drink later, the Cavalry arrives - Roz & Michael, who join me in the bar for a drink. Then we set off north in Roz's car. No point in fretting over the truck now; I won't know the damage until Monday, and my Knights in Shining Armour have arrived to rescue me. My Heroes!

At least now I am where I needed & wanted to be - in Canada, in Vancouver, in Terry & Michael's loving arms.

But my gut tells me Tan Trash is dead, the engine burned up. And I have no idea how I will get back to Lynnwood, or what I will do next.

Comments

Big Sister Says:

[(Anonymous)]

Bungee cord holding the battery??? Even this lipstick lesbian knows that is a bad idea. (The big "D" about had a cow.) Lay off the hemp, get it together, start making good decisions. As you would say: "Sheesh".
AngryHobbit

Re: Big Sister Says:

[kevynjacobs.livejournal.com]

> Bungee cord holding the battery???

That's the way it was when she sold/gave the truck to me. The truck is being held together by spit & bailing wire.

> Even this lipstick lesbian knows that is a bad idea. (The big "D" about had a cow.)

Even *I* knew it wasn't great, but beggars can't be choosers. It's all I could afford.


> Lay off the hemp,

No. It's an infrequent indulgence.


> get it together,

I *am* getting it together. I'm sorry you can't see that from a distance, but the support of Michael & Terry has done me wonders towards getting it together, as you say.

> start making good decisions.

*ahem* Teri, I *am* making good decisions. And again, Terry & Michael are supporting me through those decisions. Again, I am sorry you can't see that.

[kadyg.livejournal.com]

Dear friend - As your friendly Universe interpreter allow me to pass along the following:

1. Stop owning cars! Just stop. Now. I know all the cool kids have them and it looks easy and people who don't are supposed to be unpatriotic or some shit, but three times is a sign. Just give it up.

2. Move to Canada already. Get a job that pays a little something and collect yourself. You are clearly not meant to commute across international borders.

Good luck, all will be well, Teri and I nag because we love.
XOXO

Car Crisis Redux

[kevynjacobs.livejournal.com]

> 1. Stop owning cars!

Yeah, I think you're right. Problem is, I live in a sucky suburban area with sucky public transport. It seems that I need to move. Three problem cars ago (ie., October), I decided I needed to move to Seattle. Then I (temporarily) got the car issue fixed, and found a good job in Everett.

Now, I'm unemployed again, and carless again (probably). So, I am re-visiting the idea of moving, but I think I do not want to move to Seattle. Instead, I think I may move to Bellingham, which is much closer to Vancouver and my family, and I could go to Western Washington University. I also know I could find a job there. Bellingham is, in addition to being a port town, also a college town, and I have always been able to find work in college towns. And it is small enough that no car won't be such a problem. So, it looks like Bellingham it is, and maybe sooner rather than later.There's really nothing holding me in Lynnwood, anyway.

>2. Move to Canada already. Get a job that pays a little something and collect yourself. You are clearly not meant to commute across international borders.

Working on it. Bellingham is a step in the right direction, and if I go back to school (further saddling myself with student loan debt, yuck), then I will be better placed for hopping across the border.