Misadventures of I-16: Part II
(Another amazing car trouble story)
Windshield wipers. You turn them on. You expect them to work.
Right?
We were coming home from a beach trip to St. Simon’s several years ago. I don’t remember the year, but the children were small, and our in-laws were with us. For some reason, we were coming back on a Friday afternoon.
Just outside of Dublin, we got caught in a terrible storm. A real gully-washer. I reached to turn on the windshield wipers, and nothing happened.
I pulled over, turned off the engine and started the van again. Still nothing. I tried several more times. No luck.
I-16 has never been a place where you want to have car trouble. About the only signs of civilization between Macon and Savannah are the exits around Dublin and Metter.
Fortunately, I could see the main Dublin exit just ahead, so I decided to try to find a service station. Remember service stations? They’ve gone the way of the dinosaur.
Of course, the only “gas” stations we could find when we pulled off the interstate were convenience stores. They directed us a few miles into town. We were told someone could help us there.
So, here’s your funny picture. I’m driving north on U.S. 441 with my head stuck out the window in a van with my wife, in-laws and two children. The rain is still coming down in buckets.
We found a service station, and the guy was very nice. He stopped what he was doing to try to help us. “Probably a fuse,’’ he said, and he reached for his tool box.
Well, he must have tried every fuse to no avail. I asked if there was a Dodge dealership downtown. He told me the Ford place handled all the Chrysler service. He looked at his watch and wished me luck. I was going to need it.
We found the dealership, but it was about 4:45 p.m. Trust me, no service department wants to even look at a customer who pops in without an appointment a few minutes before quitting time on a Friday.
We got passed around several times. Finally, somebody suggested looking for a blown fuse.
“Already tried that,’’ I said. “Look, I’ve got my wife, in-laws and two restless kids in that van. Unless you want to invite us over to your house to spend the night, you need to get us back on the road.’’
They started picking up their feet a little after that. But still no luck. I was about ready to scream so loud folks up the road in Montrose were going to hear me.
Then an old, tobacco-chewing mechanic showed up, nudged aside the young whipper-snappers and took a long look under the raised hood.
He pulled out his monkey wrench, reared back and smacked the wiper motor.
WHACK!!!
Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.
We were back on the road in five minutes.
I’ll never forget that afternoon. Old-school mechanics. If it doesn’t work, sometimes all it needs is a good, swift kick.
(Another amazing car trouble story)
Windshield wipers. You turn them on. You expect them to work.
Right?
We were coming home from a beach trip to St. Simon’s several years ago. I don’t remember the year, but the children were small, and our in-laws were with us. For some reason, we were coming back on a Friday afternoon.
Just outside of Dublin, we got caught in a terrible storm. A real gully-washer. I reached to turn on the windshield wipers, and nothing happened.
I pulled over, turned off the engine and started the van again. Still nothing. I tried several more times. No luck.
I-16 has never been a place where you want to have car trouble. About the only signs of civilization between Macon and Savannah are the exits around Dublin and Metter.
Fortunately, I could see the main Dublin exit just ahead, so I decided to try to find a service station. Remember service stations? They’ve gone the way of the dinosaur.
Of course, the only “gas” stations we could find when we pulled off the interstate were convenience stores. They directed us a few miles into town. We were told someone could help us there.
So, here’s your funny picture. I’m driving north on U.S. 441 with my head stuck out the window in a van with my wife, in-laws and two children. The rain is still coming down in buckets.
We found a service station, and the guy was very nice. He stopped what he was doing to try to help us. “Probably a fuse,’’ he said, and he reached for his tool box.
Well, he must have tried every fuse to no avail. I asked if there was a Dodge dealership downtown. He told me the Ford place handled all the Chrysler service. He looked at his watch and wished me luck. I was going to need it.
We found the dealership, but it was about 4:45 p.m. Trust me, no service department wants to even look at a customer who pops in without an appointment a few minutes before quitting time on a Friday.
We got passed around several times. Finally, somebody suggested looking for a blown fuse.
“Already tried that,’’ I said. “Look, I’ve got my wife, in-laws and two restless kids in that van. Unless you want to invite us over to your house to spend the night, you need to get us back on the road.’’
They started picking up their feet a little after that. But still no luck. I was about ready to scream so loud folks up the road in Montrose were going to hear me.
Then an old, tobacco-chewing mechanic showed up, nudged aside the young whipper-snappers and took a long look under the raised hood.
He pulled out his monkey wrench, reared back and smacked the wiper motor.
WHACK!!!
Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.
We were back on the road in five minutes.
I’ll never forget that afternoon. Old-school mechanics. If it doesn’t work, sometimes all it needs is a good, swift kick.
posted by Ed Grisamore at 7:08 AM
1 Comments:
Great story, got any more? I felt like I was leaning over in the hood to look at the wiper motors too. Here's my motto: If all others tools fail to fix it, use a hammer. Preferably a ballping.
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