This all started with an Email from my Uncle Al that I better get home before United Airlines goes on strike and I am stranded in Europe, and it concludes with me settled in Mesa Arizona roughly a month later.
I saw many of your faces after I returned home- smiles and warm words greeted me at every doorstep I broached. Thank you all for the meals, good conversations, and places to stay while I visited. It was good to see you all.
During the month off I helped out at my Cousin Bob's construction company. At one point while working there, I looked down at my cut and slashed hands and laughed. Only a month before these same hands were flipping through medieval manuscripts, most of which dealt with Christ in some way, and now there I was doing Christ's vocation (carpentry). Life is really a kick sometimes.
I also got a Volvo- free. It was looking pretty grim when Jimmy and I first inspected it. It had been sitting for months under this tree. The sap from the tree had formed this sticky, black gum over the top of the car. The windows had been left open at some point because there were leaves all over inside. This thing looked like it was long overdue for serious scrap-yard retirement. But, when I put the key in the ignition and cranked it over, the beast roared to life.
"Doesn't sound too bad!"
So my Cousin Jimmy and I took it home. I put a 150$ in basic maintenance, me and Jimmy getting our hands black as tar on the beast. It had some electrical issues as well that we were able to remedy with a little testing and patience. The ugly, red 86 Volvo Stationwagon with stickers on the back was starting to grow on me from the start. I noticed after driving it a bit that the tranny was making some clunk and bang noises, but it seemed to be shifting alright. Some people doubted the power of the Volvo- Would it make it all the way down to Arizona? Could it survive the Arizona and Southern California sun?
I decided to take it on a prolonged test-drive before I challenged the slopes of the Grapevine in southern California or the scorching deserts of Arizona. I took it first to Nevada and visited with my Aunt and Uncle. While going up there I smelled that the car was burning oil- I could smell it when I stopped. When I got to Reno, I checked and the oil was fine. Hmm?
I checked the tranny fluid, and it was nearly bone-dry- Not good. So I had the tranny fluid flushed and new stuff put in. The drive back I still smelled the burning oil- I still have no idea where it is coming from- but the car ran fine.
For the uninitiated- a Volvo is a very safe car. This sucker is a freaken tank- literally. On the freeways of America the Volvo is like a combine let loose in a kindergarten- if I get in an accident, I am mow'en fools down! This thing weighs a ton, and it had a hard time tackling the Sierra-Nevada mountain ranges. I had to downshift constantly and pull over for faster traffic on turn-offs. BUT, the Volvo made the trans Sierra-Nevada venture, and I felt it could tackle Arizona. So I went down to my buddy Mario's place, loaded her up with all my belongings...
Ok, this is where things start to get scary. Most of my belongings are books- I am a geek. What can I say? The Volvo's back tires looked like they were half-flat by the time I was done loading her up. It was then I began to worry a bit. With a questionable tranny, oil burning from somewhere, and a million tons in books in the back- I was asking a whole lot from an 86 Volvo with 275,000 miles on it (A WHOLE LOT!).
I left Mario's at 4am on a Tuesday morning, and the Volvo crept away from the bay area and crawled over Pacheco Pass. The Pass posed little obstacle to the power of a rested Volvo. I drove on, and a few hours later I stopped for some gas and a little snack. I was about an hour away from the notorious Grapevine, and two hours from LA. The sun had just risen, and the day was grand. With my newly installed stereo (install compliments of Mario and myself), I was rocking out to Audioslave's new album along with a CD of oldies.
"There is a house in New Orleans, called the Rising Sun!..."
So I pull off the freeway, and the car starts shaking really badly in the lower gears!
"...And its been ruin of many a poor boy, and god I know I'm one!..."
My tranny was seriously tripp'en out on me. It didn't want to engage the gears when changing- I knew this was bad news. So I pulled over and ate. I could have turned around- Mario's parents lived only a couple hours back up north. But instead, I called upon the Incredible Hulk action figure, which I mounted to the dash with crazy glue, and called for the power of super-strength for the aged Volvo.
"Mother, tell your children, not to do what I... have done!... I'm going back to..."
Arizona was the destination, and I am not one for turning back once I make a decision. So I started her up, and we took off. She acted fine, and I was busting down the freeway at 70mph before long.
About an hour later I hit the Grapevine, just north of LA. For those of you that don't know- Hyway 5 is really flat heading south until you hit this block of rolling mountains- hence why the freeway is called the Grapevine. So I hit it- straight up- the car was doing good. I had to merge over to the right with the bigrigs because the Volvo was too weighed down, and I had to drop her into the 2nd gear mode (auto-trans). So I am cruising along with the bigrigs, when my eye suddenly drops to my temp gauge on the dash. The needle- right before my eyes- was flying up- not at a crawl- but it had NASA engineering and was flying to the moon fast! I was almost in the red before I could blink. I could hear Scotty in my head...
"Capt! She's gonna blow!"
"Holy Dog Shit!" Were the words that flew out of my mouth, and my actions were quick and decisive. I turned on the hazards, flipped on the heater, turned the heater up full-blast, put the car in neutral, and coasted to the side of the road. I did those actions so fast, I almost ran into a boulder on the side of the road. I kept my foot on the gas and eased it off, all the while watching my gauge as it sat in the red and slowly started falling off. I pulled to a stop and sat on the Grapevine with a grim look on my face. I waited for the temp gauge to fall completely down before shutting off the car. Somehow, I knew, this wouldn't be my last overheating problem. The thought serious occured to me at this point that- I could break down...
"It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one!..."
After resting the car a bit, turning away some help, I continued on my way. Surprisingly, the rested Volvo busted through the rest of the Grapevine without a hitch. I was smiling and singing as I was driving through LA...
"O! Suzy Q! OOO! Suzy Q! OOOOOO! Suzy Q! Baby, I love you, Suzy Q!..."
So this dummy just sang his way through LA and put overheating and transmission problems out of his mind. Like many problems in life- they wouldn't go away, but my worrying about them wasn't going to make them better either. I was committed to the task at hand, all I kept asking the Volvo was to make it to AZ... "Baby, I love you! Suzy Q!"
About an hour out of LA, LA being the mid-point between the bay area and Phoenix, I ran into the desert heat. It was only 11am, but it was scorching hot! Having once overheated, my eyes kept wandering down to my temp gauge, it was waving to me. The needle would creep half-way up, stall, then creep half-way down. That is what it is supposed to do. BUT, one needs to worry when the rate of the incline and decline starts accelerating. After about an hour of driving in the scorching heat, the gauge was waving quite a bit. So I pulled over and rested the car for twenty minutes.
Pretty much until I made it to Blyth on the Arizona boarder, I drove for an hour then I would stop because the Volvo kept waving to me. After Blyth you cross over into Arizona, and there are these really steep hills there where they have water faucets every couple miles- which means a lot of people break down there. Already having driven the California desert, I had seen many NEWER, many LESSER, cars broke down on the side of the road, while the 86 Volvo at 275,000 miles kept humming along. I felt like I had awaken an old warrior for battle or something. This old beast rose to every challenge I put in front of it, and it just asked for a break every now and then. The transmission was making funny noises, the sucker was blistering hot, but it didn't relent while other newer cars broke. Awesome!... "Baby! I love you, Suzy Q!"
But I wasn't totally sure I could tackle these Arizona hills. So I called my friend Sean, the person I would be staying with, to let him know my situation and where I was. I told him-
"Yeah dude, I think I can make it. I think the Volvo has the power in it to do the job, but it will take me time. The tranny is knocking, and the sucker is overheating, but I think she can make it."
Just then, I felt I knew what WW II bomber pilots felt like trying to fly home with a shot up bomber which really had no business being in the air. So I got in the car, crossed the Arizona boarder, hit the hills, and it happened. Once again, just like the Grapevine, the temp gauge was on a rocketship to the moon- that sucker took off with a vengeance. I felt like I could hear the car screaming at me-
"What the fuck do you want from me!... I give up!"
Evasive maneuvers- hand up to hazards, pulling over, car in neutral, heater on and on full blast! The Volvo coasts to a stop. Of course my AC doesn't work in it, so I am a burned and hot dog too. I just sit there, turn the car off, and sing the Radiohead song out-loud...
"Don't leave me hiiiiiiiiiiigh! Don't leave me dryyyyyyyyyyy!..."
I let her rest a little while under the shade of the spiky Arizona hills which stuck out of the desert sands like a collection of sharp teeth. I felt like the little-engine-that-could, "I think I can! I think I can! I think I can!" I was now bargaining with the Volvo, the one-way conversation went something like this-
"Ok, you're a super-trooper! You're awesome! You can do it! I know you're tired, but we are al-most there. I know, I know, I know, I only said to make it to Arizona, BUT this isn't the place to break down. I promise, once you break- I will fix you. You help me, I help you- that is the way it works. Just get me to Sean's driveway- get me to his driveway- please. I know I am asking a lot. Call on your Viking ancestors of old- those longships that crossed the Atlantic 500 years before Columbus did- you can do it too. Cross the desert! I feel it- you have the power- those longship ancestors of old are calling you- You can do it! You can!............. please."
So I started her up- she obediently roared to life, and we took off once again. The Volvo climbed the mountains, and we were in the flat, HOT desert. I pushed her until she started waving to me too fast, and then I pulled her over at a rest stop about 45 miles from Phoenix. I wanted to make sure she made it, and she did. I started the trip at 4am, and I cruised into Sean?s driveway at 6:30pm. I was exhausted, and I nearly cried with joy. I felt like a gypsy that had finally found his home after many years of wandering.
All hail Volvo power!