storymonday

The day started out just like any other, with me dragging myself out of my bed, resisting the temptation to hit the snooze button a second time. After taking a half-hour or so to get ready I was on the highway in my teal-green Ford Ranger truck beginning my fifty-mile drive to school. Why in the world would I want to drive that far every day for school? Wouldn't it be better to just move? The answer is no, I love driving, plus then I wouldn't have the benefit of living at home, and I can focus more on my studies than having to work all the time. I am very fortunate in that regard.
The traffic wasn't so bad that day, I had gotten on the road a little earlier than I usually do and was enjoying the road-space with what you might say was just a little too much speed. So how many cars were involved in the crash you ask? I'm sorry to say none, or not so sorry would be a better way of putting it. What happened next was not so spectacular.
I had been driving for about forty minutes and was listening to a morning talk show on the radio when I casually looked down at my speedometer. We won't mention here what number it was on, but it wasn't the speedometer that kept my attention, it was the thermometer. My engine was burning up. The needle was way past normal and almost to the red. I immediately turned the heater on knowing that would help cool it down. To my chagrin it didn't help at all. I starting thinking about what in the world the problem could be.

It hadn't come as a complete surprise to me that my engine was having some kind of trouble. The day before I was at work delivering pizza. I had just pulled back up to the store at the same time as one of the other drivers, Eric.
He looked at me as he got out of his car and cocked his head; "Do you smell that?"
I just looked back at him strangely and shook my head.
"Do you smell coolant? Is it your truck?" Eric asked.
"I don't know what coolant smells like." It was the truth, how in the world would I know what coolant smelled like. This was me the guy who bent the side of his truck trying to change his tire a few months ago, because he'd put the jack in the wrong place.
Eric bent toward the front of his car and inhaled. He moved to my truck and smelled. "Yup it's you. I don't think you have a leak it just smells like coolant." In my mind I just wondered why it would smell like coolant if there wasn't a leak, then I got back to work and forgot all about it.

Now here on the highway I knew I should've paid more attention to the questions of Eric's olfactory system. I drove a few more miles and the needle just continued to rise. I started to feel a sense of panic or fear grip my insides; I couldn't be sure which, maybe a mixture of both. Some might say it's just an overheating engine how big of a deal could that be? Why it's such a big problem for me is that I depend so much on my truck. I drive it to school four days a week and I depend on it for work. Without it I have no job, which is what pays for all my gas and things like books for school.
After a few more minutes I finally resolved in my mind that my engine was not cooling down, so I decided to pull over before something worse happened to it, such as blowing up. Once stopped I could see that steam was sneaking out the sides of the hood. I popped the hood and was about to get out, when I realized I had managed to park on the thinnest strip of shoulder possible. It was so skinny I couldn't even look down out my window and see the white line that divides the highway from the shoulder. I climbed over my backpack and schoolbooks to get out of the passenger side of the truck. When I got out I was immediately almost blown over by a diesel truck raging by. I waited for a minute for traffic to diminish, but realized that was a futile effort as traffic was quite busy by this time of the morning. I went to the front of my truck and put the hood up. I was immediately surrounded by billowing steam. I looked at my engine and saw with my amateur knowledge what the problem was. The radiator hose had a small crack in it and the coolant had leaked out and sprayed all over the engine.
I waited a couple minutes just looking at the engine wondering what in the world I was going to do. I took my cell phone out of my pocket thinking and wondering who I might be able to call. I got back in the truck to protect me from the sounds of traffic going by and dialed home. My dad answered and I told him my situation.
"Well you're not around any services are you?" He asked.
"No, but I think there's some up the freeway a few miles." I responded.
He said, "You could probably see if you can get up there and see about getting your engine fixed, or I guess I could bring you some coolant."
I wasn't quite sure if just getting more coolant would solve the problem, so I told him I would try to get farther and find help there. I jumped out and put my hood down, and noticed the steaming had stopped. As my truck shook from the wind of another diesel going by, I got back in and started the truck. It wasn't very happy to oblige, but it finally kicked over.
I looked at the thermometer and with a small degree of relief saw the temperature had gone down just a little from the brief respite. I putted along the shoulder gaining speed, as I listened to the terrible knocking sounds my engine was emitting. I decided that I probably shouldn't speed up all the way and found myself the slowest vehicle on the road.
I looked into my rear view mirror and saw it was filled with the front grill of a large diesel, which was, seemingly, trying to hitch a ride in the bed of my truck. Spurred on by the annoyance of the diesel tailgating me I sped up a little and looked again at my thermometer. It was deep into the red, and the knocking sound was worse. I immediately decided to pull over again. I took out my phone and redialed home. My dad answered
"This isn't going to work," I lamented.
"All right give me some time and I'll be there."
He said goodbye and I resigned myself to waiting. I took the time to take in my surroundings. I had parked right on the decline of a rise in the highway so I had a good view of my surroundings. Directly in front of me was a sign denoting the next exit. In the regular highway sign color, white on green, it boldly declared: "North Avenue" and "Cedar Avenue." Nothing challenged its boldness save for a row of quite tall bushes, they could possibly be called trees, that went along this section of freeway, except for about the fifteen feet on either end of my truck which oddly enough seemed to be devoid of them.
I got in the passenger seat and opened the door, so as to enjoy the actually very beautiful day. It was a clear breezy morning that denoted spring was on its way. There was a small asphalt curb at this part of the freeway, and after the curb for about two feet was the normal dirt and dead grass look so common to this area, before a steep drop down to a chain link fence. Beyond the fence was an empty field overgrown with weeds. Bordering the other end of the field was a railroad track running away in a diagonal direction to my left. Following the line of the track back to the freeway with my eyes, I saw the track was why the freeway went up at this point, to accommodate for going over the railroad.
You find it an interesting view yes? Not even. Here's what was fascinating about the view: on the far side of the tracks was a car junkyard stretching past my site, with rows and rows of totaled or otherwise defunct cars. In the middle of it all was a huge crane, apparently used for moving the cars that serve no purpose now, save for providing the occasional scavenger with spare parts. I can just imagine my truck sadly admiring the view, hoping against all odds that was not its destination, though inevitable be it sooner or later.
At this point in it all I was in a very uncaring or even you might say a good mood. Which was strange because I was probably going to miss my classes, and the fact that there was some unknown amount of damage done to my car that would cost who knows how much to fix. But at the moment there was no responsibility that I could currently take care of in my situation. So I just sat back, relaxed, and wished I had my camera to take pictures of the view. Then it came to me. I did have my camera! It was in the side pocket of my door for photography emergencies such as this. Mischievously glancing around at invisible spectators I grabbed my camera and began a mini-photo shoot right there on the side of the road.
You can only take pictures of one thing from so many angles, especially since I wasn't going to start walking down the highway, so that was a short lived time consumer. I decided since my truck's problem was a coolant thing it wouldn't hurt to turn the key in the backward position to give myself some electricity to listen to my stereo. I listened for a few minutes to some celebrity being interviewed for a new movie he had out, then it went to a commercial and I popped a CD in. Sitting there thinking while listening to the music, I really was very fascinated with the detached state my mind was in. My mind was seemingly oblivious to the possible consequences of my situation.
Close to forty-five minutes later my dad pulls up behind me in the family's forest green Pontiac Transport SE. And it's exactly that, a "transport" it's such a huge "mini" van.
I got out of my truck and walked back to greet him. He was wearing a gray dress shirt with jeans. He had been getting ready for work when I called, and would've been there by now if he hadn't been detoured here to help me.
"Hey," I said.
"You picked a beautiful day for a breakdown at least." He looked at me grinning as he picked up a couple coolant gallon bottles.
I chuckled, "Yeah, I did."
We went to my truck and started pouring, it took most of the first bottle to fill the tank. I showed him where the leak was and he took a look at it.
"That's definitely going to have to be taken care of right away," was his conclusion, "even if you have to miss school."
Now that he was here and I had decisions to make, needing to be at school was the main thing weighing on my mind. I gritted my teeth in thought. I decided that I would just go to school and make it to what classes I could, then worry about my truck afterwards.
I thanked my dad for helping, he gave me the remaining coolant in the bottle and came up with another bottle and told me to bring them back if I don't use it all, then we both took off for our separate ways. I was going at a nice speed limit based pace and noticed my engine was still heating up. I took my regular freeway change and hoped that my engine could handle it. Sadly I discovered that it could not. The needle on the thermometer was once again in the red and my engine was again making the dreadful knocking noise.
I again resigned myself to pulling over. This time the shoulder was wide enough I could get out the drivers side. I was now in an industrial part of the city full of anonymous gray and white buildings. I opened the hood and contemplated the engine, letting it cool off. After a five-minute wait I started again, now resolving myself to miss my second class, with the goal of getting off on the first exit and possibly finding something to help though I had no clue what.
I was able to barely make it off the exit and pulled into the first place on the right, which happened to be an Am Pm minimart and gas station. I went inside having no clue what I was going to do. I saw a section with automotive stuff, and something called "hose repair tape" caught my eye. I looked at the back: "This Hose Repair Tape is excellent for auto and home repairs�Use for auto heater hose and other repairs."
"Perfect!" I exclaimed to myself. I also noticed on the bottom of the front it said "100% Satisfaction Guaranteed." I thought to myself I sure hope that statement is true. I jokingly entertained the idea of suing them for false something or other if I wasn't satisfied.
I realized I would need scissors to cut the tape. I asked the cashier if she had any I could borrow, and I ended up with those tiny scissors with a plastic handle that I remember using in kindergarten. After borrowing the scissors from the cashier I went out and wrapped the crack in the hose, not without a few burns from the hot engine, and admired my work.
"I hope that stays," I said aloud.
I returned the scissors and was getting back in my truck when a black man came up to my window and started talking to me.
"Was that you on the freeway?" he asked in a friendly voice.
"Yeah." I said.
"Yeah we saw you and were going to pull over but were too late, because we had some water and were going to help you." I thought to myself that would've been nice. He kept on talking, but all he did was say pretty much the same thing a couple more times. I was starting to wonder why he kept talking, but then he got to the point.
"You don't happen to have any money you could spare do you?"
My ashtray was always full of change, so I took it out. "There you go." I said as I poured a few dollars worth into his waiting hands.
He gratefully put the change in his pocket, "Thank you so much."
"No problem," I replied.
Now to test if all that tape did any good. I started the engine and was glad to see the temperature had gone down a little and wasn't immediately rising. I got back on the highway and my next freeway change came up right away. It was a pretty steep up-sloping ramp and my truck was not cooperating, and was again deep in the red. I felt the beginning pangs of panic gripping me again. At this point I couldn't just decide to pull over again, it would be too dangerous considering the ramp curved and there was a minimal amount of shoulder.
I resolved myself to going very slow in the right lane until I could find a place that I could pull over safely. I make it to the next freeway but still can't pull over because there is the freeway traffic to my left and to my right there is another onramp from another freeway. I putt along in the no man's land in between the two while looking over my right shoulder waiting for there to be no traffic coming from the onramp from the other freeway. Finally there is none and I am able, as quick as it is possible at fifteen miles per hour, to cut across to the now existant shoulder.
School is now three miles away and I am determined to make it, so I just idle along the shoulder hoping my engine stays together. Then another obstacle rears its ugly head. The next freeway change. This ramp is one of those very tall ones that go over a couple other ramps. It is slightly less steep than the last ramp, but this time there is zero shoulder, there isn't even enough room for a line to mark an artificial one. Remembering my experiences with the last ramp, I immediately puledl over just before it.
This shoulder is different from the other shoulders I had experienced in the past couple hours, the others were very desolate, and this one didn't feel the same. This is the first class equivalent in the highway shoulder world. I've got a whole car width between the closest lane and me. To the right of my truck there is a grassy knoll that goes off a ways, and I had just passed an off ramp so it goes directly into a neighborhood.
I look at my engine again, hoping it will give in from all the staring and just get better or something. The tape job I had done wasn't adequate and there was still steam and pressure slowly escaping from the edges of the tape, but not nearly as much as before. That's when I noticed that besides the cap that said "Radiator Coolant Only" that we had put the coolant in, the radiator itself had a cap on it. It had lots of warnings on it and mentioned 16 lbs of pressure, and I didn't want to chance opening it not knowing what in the world I would be getting myself into. So I went to my glove compartment and took out the owner's manual to the truck. The only other time I ever look at my owner's manual is when I'm doing something like putting in a new stereo or speakers or something to find out which fuse it is I need to take out so as not to cause a short.
So I'm reading the manual when a voice startles me. "Do you need some help?" My first reaction is to stick the manual behind my back. Who wants to be caught reading the manual to their car? I turn and see that it is a highway patrol officer.
"Uh, I don't know." I managed to get out. "My truck is overheating."
"Do you have someone to help you or do you need me to call you a tow truck?"
"Well my dad helped me already by getting me some coolant, but he headed back home."
"Do you have a cell phone you can use to call him?" He asked.
My main thought was on the fact that I didn't really want my dad to have to come all the way back, when it had been long enough for him to be home already. So I skirted the question.
"I don't really know much about engines really, so I don't know if it'll do any good."
The patrolmen just looked at me and said, "Well I can call you a tow truck or you can wait and see if your engine will cool down."
Indecision was muddling my mind, and I just took the way out that wouldn't involve inconveniencing any other people. "I'll just wait." I told him.
"Okay, well you have four hours to get your truck moved. I'm going to stick this on the back here." He motioned towards my license plate, and help up a yellow paper. "If you want one of us to stop to help you just take it off and we'll stop. Okay?"
"Okay" I said.
He drove off and I went back to the manual, and found the information I needed. I took a batch of napkins out of my glove box, put them on the radiator cap, as a buffer between me and it, and turned it. Nothing happened. All the pressure had already been released from the taped spot on the radiator hose. I grabbed the half-used bottle of coolant and poured it directly into the radiator.
Excited that I might have actually solved the problem, I got back in and started the truck. I optimistically sped up to the speed limit and watched the thermometer for a few minutes stay somewhat in the normal, though still high. Another mile to go, and now the needle is moving back into the red. I see my exit in the distance and push on. It sounds as though someone is having drum line practice in my engine as I pull off my exit.
At the end of the off ramp is a traffic light and it is turning yellow. I start to speed up but then decide not to push my engine and instead cruise through the now red light, not wanting to risk a five-minute wait at the light. Now a couple blocks away I see my school. I start talking to my truck and tell it to hang on for just a couple more minutes. I pull into the parking lot, and even though it's actually semi-empty I park in the first available spot far from any other car, and also far from the school. I don't even let the car stop all the way, when I put it into park and turn it off.
Fifteen minutes away from missing the beginning of my third class, I grab my books and get out. I look at my truck forlornly and tell it that three hours of rest will do it good, and hopefully the engine just needs to cool down properly. Then I head off to class hoping.