This is exactly what it looked like, down to the color. British Vomit Green.
In my teenage years, I started long road trips. I commuted between Texas and California, as my dad lived in California and my mom lived in Texas. I finally decided I would move in with my dad and try school again. I loaded a U-Haul with my belongings and towed it behind my 1972 Caprice. This would be the third Texas to California commute with the giant green dinosaur.
I brought along a friend who wanted to see California and a bag of Burger Box burgers, which at the time were .75 cents a piece. We wore onions on our belts, because that was the style at the time.
The Caprice made a good showing. It made it almost to the border of New Mexico before THE ENTIRE RIGHT WHEEL CAME OFF. Like a Ron White story, THE WHEEL CAME OFF. But not just the wheel, meaning the rim and tire. The entire brake assembly, everything came off at the seized bearing. I had time to see it shoot off into the desert before the front end came down, hard. That was a very abrupt stop. The trailer jack knifed into the car, broke open at the back and spilled my belongings all over the road.
Good thing nobody was coming for another day and a half. It gave me and my friend plenty of time to nurse forehead goose eggs and pick up all the belongings scattered on the highway. In the afternoon of day two, a car came by and promised to go into town to get a tow truck. We were about to run out of burgers, so just in time.
Tow truck man brought an extra truck to tow the car and trailer separately. It took another two days to find a new spindle and brake assembly (it was trashed after impacting a big desert rock.) It also cost me almost everything I had. At least the damn car made it back on the road. It failed again outside of Vegas, necessitating a new fan belt and thermostat. Ever spent much time in the desert outside Vegas? All those little white crosses for traffic fatalities… By the time my friend and I got into Vegas we had to push brochures on tourists to raise gas money. We slept in the car at the Circus Circus Hotel for days while we raised cash. Thankfully we made it to our final destination in San Jose without any more issues.
Ever since then I have had no love lost for any General Motors product. Was it the fault of the car, or the man who didn’t check everything before a long road trip? Maybe both? Thinking back on it, every car my parents owned in childhood was a General Motors car, and every one of them was a steaming pile.
So what are your bad car failure stories?
By the way, I misspelled Glib Car on purpose last week just to see if you were all paying attention. Well done, you grammar fascists!
My Kia is sick, and I need to get it to the Doctor, that’s my bad story this year,
I can’t stop myself.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PzNhuWFJMEE
Was expecting this.
Good one!
I wish it were funny,
Carry on,
#MeToo
? An old favorite!
One of my first cars was a 1982 Ford EXP. I only owned it for a couple years but that thing was constantly not starting. My dad and I would replace the fuel filter and it would work again for a little bit, but I’m sure we never figured out the problem. I hated that car. Looked a lot like the one in this video but mine was white.
https://youtu.be/a2_qGoFayCk
I THINK that was one of the cars intended to supplant the Mustang. The Probe was the second attempt.
That EXP was soooo gutless. I traded it for a 1986 Honda CRX, which I loved driving. Used to fill up that Honda for $10 and could go around 400 miles on a tank.
My friend had one of the earl Ford Probe with a turbo. I drove it a few times and when that turbo kicked in you better be hanging on or you’re going right off the road.
Since he’s all over the news, here is Elon’s car collection:
https://www.hotcars.com/here-are-the-cars-in-elon-musks-collection-its-more-than-just-teslas/
I rebuilt the carburetor for an old Mercedes. It ran great for a while, but I soon found out I had missed something. I was driving to a friend’s place and heard a loud bang. The engine stopped running. It would turn over, but wouldn’t start. I got it towed home. I ran a compression check and one of the cylinders was dead. So long story short, when I looked at the top of the cylinder there was a hole the perfect size and shape of a tiny screw, like Wile E. Coyote went through a wall.
Awful. I had bad eyes even when younger and I put the carburetor jets in upside down during a rebuild. They shot gas all over the engine during a test run.
Lucky it didn’t catch fire.
It did. Lots of towel flapping later the fire went out. And a larger rebuild was in order..
Yikes!
Sorry, I laughed at that one.
My BIL has a CJ7 that my father gifted to him. He is not mechanical so he asked me to take a look because he smelled some gas.
I popped the hood and there was a pinstream of gasoline from the fuel line spraying directly onto the exhaust manifold and instantly vaporizing.
TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF
*slams hood shut*
Picture the same thing but on a cracked fuel injector line on a Lycoming IO-360 A3B6D and you’ll understand why I stood dumbstruck when I was looking under the cowl after my mechanics called me during the annual on my Mooney. The airplane had gone into annual the day after I returned from a trip, putting 9 hours on the engine.
Well, OK, the fuel wasn’t spraying right on the exhaust, but spraying and then drizzling down through the cooling fins and onto the exhaust. Blue fuel dye everywhere.
Thatsa no good.
My father blew an engine in a Piper Saratoga Turbo and had to land it with oil blowing all over the windshield, but fuel leaks are a whole nother ballgame… Fire and planes are a bad combo.
Yeah. It was sobering. The airplane is on its third engine since new, and it’s possible the fuel injector lines were original equipment, just moved to the new engine each time. I had them replace all of the lines from the spider to the cylinders after that happened.
I had one of our junior CFI’s come in with their student to tell me that in addition to some blue stains on the cowl that the student noticed BEFORE THE FLIGHT, that there was an “abnormal” amount of fuel dripping from the cowl AFTER their flight. *Blink, blink, stare* The brass fuel fitting going into the carb was cracked most of the way through. It broke the rest of the way when I tried to remove it. He’s probably an Embraer captain now.
My buddy had an ’86 mustang GT, last of the carburated holleys. It had a very slight leak at the carb intake line. I told him we needed to fix it before we had a rolling barbecue going.
We spent about 4 hours wresting with the mother-fucking thing, because all we had was a crescent wrench, and a vise grips and luckily, a little plumbers thread tape. After skinning up knuckles and bending some shit out of the way, we started it and confirmed no leaks.
We then test drove it to make sure we weren’t drawing air. My buddy buries the throttle, and then discovers that one of the things we bent has bound up the linkage of the car, so it is stuck at wide open throttle. I see the panic in his eyes as we shooting for the moon. “Rich, turn off the engine!” I yell.
He turns off the ignition, immediately locking the steering wheel as we storm toward the ditch. In one of the coolest and calmest moments of my life, I reach over and turn the switch back to on (not start) and correct the wheel just before death and dismemberment.
Then I cleaned my underwear and we popped the hood to find where the gas-line had caught onto the throttle linkage.
Mother dog!
I was at a local short-track drag strip which I don’t think is in operation anymore. It was my first time there; a friend had brought me and we were running his bike and my car (a bone stock BMW 128i). The race was a handicapped deal; I can’t remember the proper term for it, but it was basically you run qualifiying runs and then you have to come as close to your qualifiers as possible without going under. You’re racing against another car or bike, which can be much faster or slower, but the two drivers are released by the system such that they theoretically should cross the finish at exactly the same moment, if they hit their qualifying times. I was having fun and getting to know the etiquette and techniques, and was excited to run my first real race after the qualifying runs.
About four or five in line ahead of me was a girl who was running a new-to-her car. She was an experienced racer and had just sold her old car and bought an upgraded vehicle (I forget what) from another regular competitor. The lights go, and her competitor was released first (she was faster in qualifying) and then she gets released. She launches, and starts eating up the space between her and the other car. She’s getting closer and closer and starts to pass the other car right before the finish line.
And she keeps going. And going faster. The track was 1/8 mile with another 1/8 runout at the end and she isn’t slowing down. Her brake lights are on and the car is still going faster. At some point we heard the engine die–she must have killed it. At the end of the track was a forested area with a small drop-off, and she careens off the side of the track to avoid hitting the trees in front of her. Her car hits a little dirt ramp or a rock or something and launches in the air, rolling to the left, skims the side of a tree, and comes to rest inverted in the dip at the end.
At this point I and a number of others were already running down the track, calling 911. When we got there, she was hanging upside down in the car from her harness, screaming for someone to get her out of the car. There was no sign of fire but she was panicked like crazy. She was trying to undo her harness and someone who had EMT training was trying to get her to calm down and hold still while he checked her–he was afraid her neck or back might be broken and didn’t want her to release and fall on her head.
Eventually they got her out and she was fine. The races for the rest of the day were canceled, but we hung around, and while she and her boyfriend tore into the engine back in the parking area we watched. They found that there was only one throttle return spring installed (normal practice is two) and it had broken while at WOT.
I own mostly GM stuff. Parts interchange and overall quality being the reason.
Weirdest GM failure was a broken motor mount on my 71 GMC. Mount cleaved in half, motor raised up, pulley on the PS pump, cut the PS return line. Annoying but not serious.
Worst serious one was my 93 Dodge W300 with the cummins. Shut down completely on a busy on-ramp in Seattle to I5. Turned out the ignition switch took a dump. Thankfully I was towing a car trailer and had extra wiring on it to build a switch out of. The leather man tool saved me. The switch is unobtainable as it was not reproduced and the diesel version is special. I made a new one where I would plug in the fuel relay and then crank with another wire.
Before that it was the steering column. Shortly after I told my wife that the column was the only hood part made by dodge in the entire rig the pin that holds the tilt in place worked it’s way out and plop went the wheel in my lap. At 65mph. Got it home, took it apart and wouldn’t you know, it wasent even spiked in from the factory. Just loose in the bore. Then the trans failed after the door latches. Never again with a Dodge. Biggest POS I’ve ever owned.
In 73 GM went to clamshell motor mounts and fixed that problem.
Funny you should mention motor mounts. That 72 broke one of those once as well.
In the late ’60s/early ’70s, GMs were generally more dependable than Fords, but when the broke It was usually spectacular.
My ’67 Ford Galaxie would would act up all the time, but never something I couldn’t fix on my own.
I had a wheel come off on the Pomona Fwy while I was doing 65 mph in the fast lane. I fish-tailed my ass over to the shoulder (’82, so there were actually still places to run off there), got my spare out and pulled a lug nut off each of the remaining wheels and drove it home.
Near as I could guess, I had four different sized wheels on the car and I’d put the largest on one drive side and the smallest on the other when I’d rotated the tires a couple weeks earlier.
I I could feel it being a little squirrelly, but not enough to worry me (it was a $300 shit-heap); I think the lug-nuts walked loose due to the wandering from off-sized wheels.
An old parts guy I knew (RIP Steve) used to say “I don’t know much, but never shake a baby and never, ever buy a Dodge.
HEY!
I resemble that remark.
Srsly. I like my Dodge Ram, although it too is, well, a POS, but what do you expect for almost 400,000 miles we didn’t put on it?
I like mine a little bit.
I’m not a Dodge fan, but the blood (and treasure) you’ve put into it has given me a new appreciation of that body style when I happen to see one. They are pretty sharp when cared for.
Sneak preview after a wash and ceramic coat.
That’s a good pic. The subtle gray two-tone is nice.
However…I’m actually more interested in that huge wood raptor sculpture behind it.
It’s a Bald Eagle
Beautiful. You do it?
No, it was bought from a chainsaw artist.
So what are your bad car failure stories?
My first car had some sort of electrical problem. In the cold weather, I had to run it every day or else the battery would die. Warm weather wasn’t a problem. Only cold weather. New battery didn’t help.
So, my story isn’t as interesting as yours.
Good! I have many more poverty car stories. I’m glad you were spared that kind of thing.
A Sunday morning, near Penn State. Girlfriend and I, and another couple, are departing from a motel when the transmission starts going on My ’62 Ford Galaxie. Drifted to a stop right in front of perhaps the only transmission shop within 20 miles. Had to take the Hound back to Philly. Monday, I arrange with shop to have it fixed, set a price, and I send a personal check to my PSU buddy who goes to pick up my car and will drive it home. Shop owner wants cash, not my personal check. Buddy has to go back to the dorms and take up a cash collection. About a week and a half later, I finally get the car back. Within three months, the trans starts slipping and I sell the car and buy a ’64 Mustang convertible which gave about three years good service.
I was driving to my first job interview after college and had my VW Golf fail in I-80 right before the OH border.
I missed the interview due to my poor maintenance and a failure of my Golf rear wheel bearings.
Inadvertent and uncontrolled rear wheel steering is no fun.
I also had a front wheel hub separate from the brake disk while braking down a hill. The Chevy work truck lost the caliper and ripped off the brake lines. The brakes all failed and I was able to down shift and use the E-brake to keep the truck from wrecking with two others and four lawnmowers aboard.
2008 Ford Powerstroke Diesels
I need say nothing more.
Powerstroke Diesel was my nickname in college
Did you fart giant clouds of black soot?
no comment
Sorry about your leaky head gaskets and fouled injectors.
man just part of the lifestyle
Heh heh.
I wonder if even Ron could stay stoic about a Ford Powerstroke?
I can’t. I’ve rebuilt four of them on three trucks. It got so expensive (and lousy) with third party mechanics that I outfitted my own shop to handle the work. Turns out we can do it better for less.
Much cursing was involved though.
Don’t you have to remove the cab to do 90% of the engine work?
Yep. And that involves removing several radiators and a crap ton of hoses beforehand.
One of the major flaws on that vehicle is that the frame is not stiff enough and when you hit a pothole the front end twists, causing radiator leaks and eventual cooling failures.
Mishimoto probably regrets ever selling radiators with lifetime warranties for that truck. I’ve gotten pretty good at filling out the claims.
My brother has a 2010 Powerstroke with a manual Transmission and it’s a real nice truck, but I don’t think I could do the work on it that I’ve done on my Dodge.
He takes it to a shop for pretty much everything.
RIP 7.3L
Olds station wagon had a radiator failure of some kind (I was a kid – no idea what happened). The issue caused the car to overheat, obviously, then spew rust-colored water like a geyser.
It happened when it was just my dad & I on our way between Mt Washington and home in Essex Jct, VT. I must have been 8 years old or so. It was a Sunday on Route 2 outside St Johnsbury. We passed by a decrepit garage with two old guys sitting out front. They told us they couldn’t do anything for us, as it was Sunday and all, but perhaps the “Geh’y” (“Getty” in standard American) up the road would be open. I think the Geh’y had gallons of distilled water, which we continually poured into the radiator the rest of the way.
Thing is, it wasn’t a new issue and my dad was in middle management at IBM at the time. Did they not pay him enough to get the fucking thing fixed??*
*answer: he was the cheapest asshole known to man at the time. Now he’s enjoying the fruits of his cheapness.
My dad did that in a 66 Oldsmobile. My brother took my lego box to go pan water out of a nearby swamp in Florida to refill so we could keep going.
Here’s the rub: that damn Oldsmobile was only three years old at the time.
For several months, every time I stopped the car, I had to pop the hood and put the fire out on the engine.
The story: It was a ’77 LTDII (4-doors, predecessor, I guess, of the Crown Vic). It was the old family car, and we kept cars forever. I drove it at Tech ’89-’93, and then kept it a couple of years while I saved up money to buy a truck. Generally ran OK. Well, I’d graduated and was making good money as an Engineer, but I’m cheap and was still driving it. I was living in an apartment complex and got home one hot summer day and pulled up to the mailboxes. I got my stuff and then turned back around to face the car and there was white steam (I thought) coming out. Figured I had a radiator or hose leak. Popped the hood and the top of the intake manifold alongside the carb had little orange flames on it, just a’ burning. I semi-panicked and blew it out. Then I was like “what was that?” and cranked the car to watch it and see what happened. Nothing. So I drove it to my apartment and looked again, and sure enough the fire was back. I blew it out and drove to WalMart and got a fire extinguisher and put it on the front seat.
So for several months (I was busy and cheap), every time I stopped, I’d pop the hood and blow it out. Never had to use the extinguisher, but I got antsy if I had to sit in traffic for any length of time. Never was a very big fire. Eventually figured out that there was a pinhole in a power steering line that would spritz fluid on the hot manifold. It would burn but never much. Some tape fixed it forever.
Makes for an interesting story when a new colleague or something is riding with you and you have to put the fire out every time you stop.
That’s awesome.
Hah, the only car my parents bought new was a ’78 LTD II, but a two-door with the vinyl roof. They finally traded it in in 2001, but it was still a good running vehicle then . No engine fires that I can recall though.
I would love to find another one and restore it.
My first car was an Austin 1800: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BMC_ADO17#Austin_1800
Got it in 1980 (?). Innovative but improperly developed designs. Went through two clutches, master brake cylinder, multiple front wheel bearings.
Had a propensity to stall out in wet weather because water sprayed through the front grill onto the distributor cap. Although, on the one I had, it turned out it was shorting on the solenoid. Bought it for $1000, sold it for $50.
Bad car stories? GM, Ford, British, German or French? I’ve got them all. Except for the GM stuff I loved them all even with their faults. Vehicle with the least (virtually no) trouble is the GMC pickup, but love it about as much as I love the toaster oven – great appliance.
I was driving my mom’s 68 Datsun (in 1988) up the hill to Los Alamos. I had guardrail and hundred ft drop to the right when the latch slipped loose and the hood flew up. I drove that sucker looking through the gap btw dash and the lower edge of the hood til i got to a place to pull over and could slam it back down.
Today our car has a funny electrical short where the stereo will click off randomly or eject all the CDs like it’s possessed.
I think some paper pusher mandated there should be a gap in case the hood flies up. That would make a great Torchinksy article on Autopian.
Back in university, my crankshaft got bent by too much torque being applied to the connecting rod. I ended up having to replace the intake valve with a newer one.
That’s the kind of car story I can get behind.
I’m not falling for the banana in the tailpipe.
…STEVE SMITH HAVE NO COMMENT…
This story speaks to my lived experience.
Some people just can’t handle a manual transmission.
SEX!
Back in the high school days, when I was about 15, my older brother and I were putting a new engine in the derelict Datsun Roadster he talked my into buying. And as we slowly lowered the new block down into the engine bay, I was half in and half out guiding it onto the motor mounts. Each time I would yell out “lower” the ancient come-along strapped to the underside of the deck would drop it another inch. One time, when I yelled out lower, nothing happened, so I pulled my head out* to see what was going on. But, unbeknownst to me, my fingers had slipped between the block and the mount. And as my head came up, the rusty come-along stopped fighting my brother and dropped that inch.
Right onto my finger.
Which immediately swelled up as blood rushed under the nail, quickly ballooning up like a plumb. At this point, my brother grabbed a drill, held my hand down, and before I realized what he was doing, drilled right through that nail. Blood squirted everywhere, christening the front of the car. And eventually we got that derelict running.
*and yes, I should have pulled my head out long before, probably when my brother decided he wanted a companion to his Land Cruiser. And for me to pay for it.
That is an epic story.
BTW, I think that green color is awesome.
Looking back on it-that was a neat color. It was good you could get so many different interior colors as well. Now you get your choice of black or occasionally, brown. And dark green isn’t even a Jeep color anymore.
My brother and I were working on his car in the dormitory parking lot. Christian school so no tobacco allowed under threat of suspension. We both had a big chaw of Redman in when the dorm RA came up and started asking us questions. “You guy’s working on the car, eh?” I just grunted an “uh huh” at him. “Looks like a big job.” I replied with another “uh huh” but my mouth was starting to fill up with chew spit. “What part are you guys working on?” My brother replied with “linkage” and a geyser of Redman juice erupted from his mouth. Suspended.
Early 90s Mercury Sable wagon.
My wife had just given birth to our first while my grandparents had just passed. The car seat wouldn’t fit in the back of my awesome Prelude si. Gave my Prelude to my younger brother and my parents gave me that shitbox. Transmission was all fucked, engine a mess…
I traded it in a year later for a Nissan Maxima – last generation with a manual. That car was great.
What really hurt was my grandfather almost bought a Honda wagon instead – which would probably still be running.
We had two Civic wagons at the same time growing up. Yeah, they’d probably still be running
This would have been an Accord – and perfect. My wife had an 89 Civic back then. It was indestructible.
Yeah, those older Japanese models were tough. I drive my Mitsubishi A6M into the ground.
Mm hmm. Sure.
Geez, where do I start with the POS stories? I won’t, though, because it’ll piss me off.
I enjoyed your story, though!
Thanks!
To bring the day full circle, I shall say that I can’t possibly spell correctly because I don’t have a master’s degree.
OT
Today in “transvestites used to be a thing”. Here is a piece of new-to-me information:
Behold the brave new world where we are no longer allowed to distinguish “transvestite” from “transgender”.
Hope is it they’re still called “trans” and not just opportunistic liars in that situation?
How is it…
Rape in Riker’s? No way.
I was thinking the other day, which is something I probably shouldn’t do too much, being a woman and all. But I was thinking the other day – why aren’t drag queens considered, like, “gender blackface”? They’re literal caricatures of womanhood and femininity, but they’re not considered offensive? Blackface, straight men imitating gay dudes, Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s – all socially unacceptable these days. But not drag queens.
I’m not offended by drag personally (I’m also not entertained by it), but why aren’t the wokies offended by it?
Oh, right. Because they have no principles or consistency and are massive hypocrites.
That is what I see.
In the right environment, it is entertainment. Most drag queens are not “transgender”, after all. It is another angle of the activists conflating things.
Yes, almost all drag queens identify as male, as do cross players.
That just means the wokes should be even more offended by it, but they’re not. ?
I get they’re not transgender – they’re performers doing caricatures. Like, say, Mickey Rooney.
Thank God they eliminated leaded gasoline otherwise we’d have a population of imbeciles.
Currently having to replace my rear diff at 80k miles. This vehicle has a 30-60k fluid change interval. 30K with towing extensively.
I never thought that was even considered until 100K. New all wheel drive systems have a lot more lube requirements these days.
Well, as I found out later I should gave been packing the bearings constantly on that 72 Chevy. Especially when towing. No matter how much it seems now, maintenance on 80’s and older cars was very high. Now at least we have sealed bearings.
Not constantly, but when you do the brakes is a good time.
This. A grease gun was important too.
Curious what kind of vehicle? Chevy truck? GM seems to have started making riffs out of rubber the last decade. Just had a new one put in a ’15 Cadillac CTS under recall and heard someone else complaining about not being able to keep a diff in his ’19 GMC Denali.
2016 Ford Edge.
So…I just succumbed to “auction fever” and bought this. Anybody need a 2-tub, commercial sink/wash station? I’ll give you one hell of a deal.
Why did you buy that?
Um… if you don’t need it, why did you buy it?
/unfamiliar with “auction fever”
I got auction fever once in Libya.
Thanks Obama!
The best auctions give you alcohol. That makes for crazy decisions.
Online auction. Someone named Mike may have been feeding me alcohol.
That bastard!
The SOB owes me $206!
That’s a heck of a deal! I need nothing. I live in a glorified modern shotgun shack.
In another part of the world?
There were other items there I did want. I saw all this stainless steel commercial stuff selling for FAR under new prices. Figured this sink would be easy to flip to a sportsman’s club or something along those lines. Should have not worried about other people getting a sweet deal and just focused on the stuff I actually wanted.
I still have no doubt I’ll make some money, but I’m not it the flipping business.
Well…I didn’t used to be in the flipping business.
I would love dual basins but sadly I have nowhere to put that thing.
I don’t know much about Fords, but I did have a wheel fall off of my current truck.
I had the tires rotated by a shop(it was a few weeks after ankle surgery, so I wasn’t that mobile.
The next day I drove from New Bern NC to Tyson’s Corner VA, about a 5 hour drive with long stretches of 80mph.
I was an hour from home on the return trip when I stopped at a red light in Greenville NC and it sounded like my front passenger hub was making a crunching sound.
I checked with my flashlight, but couldn’t see anything, but figured I should get off the road to check closer.
As soon as I got in the dirt, it felt like it sunk ito mud on the one side, I walked around and saw this.
See I always thought it was a rare occurrence to have the whole wheel pop off. Now here, in our group I find two other people it happened to.
Had a diesel tank fall off the truck before this one.
It had terminal cancer and the straps rusted through, spilling 35 gallons of diesel outside my Unit’s office on base, I had drug it and ground through the plastic. (Cummins with a straight pipe, I heard nothing)
The fire Department came and did a Hazmat clean up.
I got it towed home and put in a new fuel tank and straps, by myself in the driveway.
That was not fun.
You shouldn’t have filled the new tank first.
D’OH!
It was a bitch, just because of how long and awkward it was. TWSS
Hit submit too soon.
I got it towed to the shop that did the rotation and they paid for everything except the new wheels I bought because the ones on there were old and crappy looking.
The one that fell off was ruined and there were no exact matches to be found.
https://twitter.com/PadraigBelton/status/1518980573007597568
This ass clown getting roasted.
Wow. He must have known he would get roasted. Is he afraid someone will put his eye out?
I purchased a right-hand drive Toyota RAV4 last year. It is a 95, imported from Japan.
It is leaking oil, but I can’t find anyone to work on it. It’s too old. Even the local Toyota dealership offered their condolences before hanging up and blocking my number.
Wow! That is unusual. 95 isn’t even that old.
It’s an import, so they may be prejudiced.
Yeah, I’m thinking I could do it. Finding an independent mechanic shouldn’t be difficult.
I got the name of a couple of mechanics from someone at work. As soon as Incan find the time, I am going to drop it off.
I’m sure we can figure it out
*rolls up sleeves*
*Spongebob Narrator: Two Hours Later…*
Jesus there’s blood everywhere!
https://twitter.com/AwestruckVox/status/1516476864478384129
LOLOLOL
I would totally buy a KWID Outsider.
The official vehicle of nerds, everywhere.
This commercial is canon, by the way.
LOL – I had a ’72 Impala coupe (the cheaper trim level cousin to your Craprice) I picked up a skank at the bar and she drove so my buddy took the imp home, almost. A bearing in the rear differential was apparently leaking and the friction from driving it caught the axle grease to catch fire. I didn’t hear about it till the next morning. Went back to survey the damage and outside of a blown tire, the fire had somehow managed not to spread beyond the wheel well. A new to me Junkyard differential and she was back on the road.
I’m trying to figure out what song is playing in that ‘72 Caprice.
Since I commuted so much, I had a new Pioneer radio and tape deck. Inside were:
Deep Purple cassettes
FEAR
Frank Zappa
Full length audio recordings of James Bond movies and Monty Python
Oh. And mixtapes from various friends including vintage doo wop, rockabilly, punk, heavy metal, even Tangerine Dream.
https://twitter.com/andrewlawrence/status/1518838751593705475
I keep seeing all my proggy FB friends bemoaning what that money could have bought and I’m sitting here thinking, “He did a solid for liberty-minded people around the world. God’s work.”
What % is 44bn in the Federal budget?
Less than 3 days.
All of the new owners of what used to be Elon’s cash can now do the same.
To wit: https://twitter.com/GeorgePapa19/status/1518979648012570630
De-Facebook.
You’re welcome.
Sadly, I’m kind of stuck there for professional reasons.
All this reeing over how someone else spends their money is the perfect encapsulation of Progs – they’re 100% certain they know better than anyone else how YOUR money should be spent.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s Elon or your tax money, just shut up and let them do what they know is best with all of the world’s resources. That’s their fundamental belief.
It makes them the most tiresome cuntes on the planet.
bemoaning what that money could have bought
Trillions upon trillions
spentwasted on wars against poverty, drugs, domestic terror, foreign terror, mother rapers, father stabbers, father rapers, lions, tigers, and bears oh my, and somehow not only are the old problems still with us but new ones pop up every year which require even more spending. This guy might actually do something useful with the $44 bn.Those people are free to go out and build their own two-hundred-billion-dollar fortunes and spend them on anythign they want.
Sadly it’s impossible to discern how much of that derives from grift.
Not that that excuses the likes of, say, any United States Congresscreature from complaining about it.
Yes, me too. Here’s my unsent response to a post about “solving world hunger!!! with 44 BILLION DOLLARS” —
Yes, let’s look at what that kind of money buys:
The UNICEF budget is $ 22 BILLION A YEAR.
The US authorized $ 13 BILLION in aid to Ukraine last month alone.
The US spent $ 6,800 BILLION (6.8 trillion) in 2021, which is 18 billion a DAY
The US SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, “food stamps”) budget for 2019 was $ 60 BILLION.
and you think 44 billion will “solve world hunger”? why didn’t all those billions do it already then?
Quiet, you.
^^^
Hey I actually looked up all those ridiculous numbers.
SMOD WHEN?
1992 Ford Taurus. There was an issue with the ECU that caused it to, during cold weather, surge and stall when you applied too much gas, at least until the engine warmed up. The most unpleasant occurrence of that behavior was when I was driving home from work at the grocery store when I was 16. We had gotten a bit of snow/ice and I was impatient to get home and warm up after trudging through the stuff for 6 hours. Sure enough, it surged and stalled meright in the middle of the northbound lanes of the divided highway where semi trucks were known to skid through for lack of traction during inclement weather.
That car had a lot of “character”. After a CV joint replacement, there was a bit of play in the steering wheel, not quite a quarter turn’s worth in total. For that, it got the nickname “the boat”. It also blew a power steering line one time, after our patch of a slow leak spectacularly failed. There was a stain in the road for 5 years. It finally died when a rear spring snapped and rubbed a hole in the tire. It was pouring out smoke like a leaf fire. My dad was driving at the time in an attempt to limp it home for a diagnostic, but I could hear the tire let off from 2 blocks away. Sounded like a bottle rocket on steroids.
The rest of our cars were decidedly more mundane.
The old Ford CLI Taurus.
^^ this man knows.
The next CLI Taurus I had was known for having the door latches freeze up. Guess how fast I was going around a turn when I found that one out?
Not a real failure, but I’d like to have a pair of pliers, a couple of hours, and the FCA engineer who thought dash lights for both the headlights on and high beam indicators should be bright LEDs that don’t dim with the rest of the dash lights.
Right? The damn dim knob does nothing sometimes. Or there are two dimmer knobs. What the heck? I bring a towel to cover them at drive in movies.
I put a post it note over the thing at night.
While youre at it, pay a visit to the engineer who didn’t debug the ignition sequence or the tailgate closing algorithm in the latest Pacifica. Oh, and the one who designed the shit infotainment system.
Winter break, late December 1972. Road trip to Miami with a few frat bros in Bob’s
trustyshitty old ’67 Bel Air. 60 degrees Americanheit when we left, so dressed lightly.Sunday morning, 2 AM, on I-95 somewhere in South Carolina. 25 degrees, snow flurries, and dead Chevy. Pre cell-phone era, tough to get help. After a seeming eternity, a southbound Greyhound pulls over and gives one of the guys a ride into the nearest town, where we are able to get a rebuilt carburetor for $40 from the local gas jockey and continue on.
Fuck GM. That is all.
That is a pretty heinous road trip. I don’t have too many crazy break down tales, just the standard stuff. Long distance road trips are usually a blast (as long as you don’t have the afore mentioned breakdowns). About fifteen years back I was living in Amsterdam and a couple friends from the states came because we planned to ride bicycles from there to Istanbul. We made it close to the German/Czech border and it had been raining solid almost the whole time and we were soaked through as we’d been camping along the way. So we got the idea to take a train to Italy and continue on from there. We biked from Italy through Slovenia, part of Bosnia and Croatia to close to the Montenegrin border. There the skies opened up again and it rained torrential amounts for five days solid and we were stuck in a campground turning into a lake. This Aussie couple kept coming by and asking us to buy their Skoda that they drove down there from the UK. It got to the point where they said, “look our flight is leaving tomorrow and we have to get rid of this thing, name any reasonable price at all and we will sell it.” So we bought it for 300 euros. It was pretty sweet actually, almost like a Suburu, and a lovely green to boot, 5 speed manual. We tossed our bikes on top and drove it through Montenegro, Serbia, and Bulgaria to Turkey. I was a little nervous at each border crossing due to no insurance and the dodgy paperwork but we never got tossed in jail. Only one fine that could be conveniently paid on the spot in Serbia. It was British drive and they drive on the right in all those countries so it made passing a two person affair with the passenger giving the go ahead. We ended up driving it back from Istanbul to Amsterdam and I later sold it to some Czech guys who gave me 500 euro and a case of beer. That was a great road trip.
You all have way more interesting lives than I do. I’ve been pretty lucky that nothing really interesting has happened to my vehicles (knock on wood).
First car was a Dodge Intrepid. Me being a dumb young man (are ever anything but?), I really wanted it to be a sports car. I did some minor stupid mods to it and came into a roundabout too hot, car kept sliding and hit the curb. Sent the wheel into the well and it got scrapped. It got replaced for free with my parents’ old Ford Windstar. I drove that to active duty. My airmen thought I was going to be some new LT with a huge family and I caught endless shit when they learned nope, I was just a young dumb bachelor driving a minivan. It started acting funny so I took it in and the mechanic told me that three of the six spark plugs were so caked with carbon that they were basically rocks. Damn thing had been running on three cylinders for who knows how long.
So anyways I drove it from Cali to Texas for tech school in San Antonio. Halfway there in the middle of the God-forsaken desert the wheel weights came off at some point, banged the side of the car, and the whole thing started shaking. I did not know anything about cars at this point, so I gingerly drove it into the first dump I could find that looked liked they serviced vehicles. Some young kid that spoke no English was sitting in a chair out front. Somehow I communicated what happened and he took a look, laughed, and rebalanced the wheel. Made it all the way to San Antonio and drove it around there for four months. Started the drive back and I was in the home stretch. Just as I was entering the freeway, five minutes from home and accelerating, the transmission turned to powder, the engine revved to the moon with my foot on the accelerator, and I had to pull over. Got it towed home and ended up donating it. Got $500 for it, so that was cool. I bought the Mustang shortly after.
Only semi-horror story with the Mustang was the first time I did a track event in the rain. I was at New Jersey Motorsports Park and there was a 90 degree turn coming off a straight. The rain had pooled on the inside corner, right at the apex, but I had no idea how to race in the rain (every gearhead should read The Art of Racing in the Rain. In fact I’m going to reread it tonight because it’s such a feel-good story) and didn’t slow down. Lost traction and began spinning. Did a kind of boomerang into the grass and was slowed down enough that when I hit the tire wall with the rear end, I was only doing 20 or so. My buddy in his Porsche then drove past me waving. Grr. Mustang still has the wrinkled paint on the back end.
1992 in Florida I am driving my 1978 Ford Fairmont on a suspended license when it dies on a side road.
Cops show up and actually help me push it off the road an the promise that I would get it the next day.
Luckily they never asked for ID or tried to search me, I had long hair and there was weed in the glovebox and driving a ’78 Fairmont, I was obviously in the lower class.
The next day I cleaned the carb and checked for spark and everything seemed fine, but it would not start.
I finally noticed when I turned the key off, the gas gauge didn’t move from 1/2.
I put gas in it and it fired right up, but form then on 1/2 was empty and full was halfway past the full mark.
No idea what caused that.
I had a similar thing happen with the gas gauge in my ’76 Chevy pickup. Once I got used to 1/2 tank being empty, it suddenly started working right again (full would to to full, not full+1/2). Then it tricked me again and decided to use 3/8 for empty. No idea of the cause either.
Splines probably weren’t reticulating properly.
Or the capacitor went bad.
Did you try rebooting it?
Mine never changed, but I started tracking mileage instead of looking at the gauge.
https://twitter.com/javroar/status/1518303007947042819
Relevant.
I drove a 1976 Safety Orange Ford Pino Station wagon (with a peace sign cut out of the rear window tint) with a malfunctioning clutch for over 3 months until I could save enough money to have the clutch replaced.
Kind of a car disaster story: a guy I worked with had his wife find a pair of panties, not her size, under the front seat when she reached for a cloth to wipe some moisture off the windshield. Guy skated by reminding her that they had bought the car used and the previous owner had probably left the panties there. Then he told the girlfriend to be more careful the next time.
he told the girlfriend to be more careful
I’ll hazard that the girlfriend carefully left those there to begin with.
“I totally forgot I had underwear on earlier”
said nobody, ever.
Lol
’72 Ford Mustang I bought for $600 in Garvin MN when I was 18. I drove it from MN to CA to MN to IL to NC to NJ and finally back to CA, where I sold it for twice what I gave for it. But I did have to put a new transmission in it along the way. All during my first two years in the Army.
I spent Thanksgiving weekend in NYC with my room-mate and his brother. The alternator went out on the car in Ft Lee, and a gas station attendant let us leave it so we could go carouse. We stayed up all night and slept for an hour or two in the Time Square USO, and came back on Saturday to put in a new alternator. We then drove into the city to see what we could see. We were down in the scariest part of the Bronx (Ft Apache style) when the alternator light came back on. We spent the next 18 hrs nursing the car from station to station, recharging the battery so we could get my roomie’s brother back to the airport and drive back to FT Monmouth.
I talk to my old roomie every few years and ask him if his brother wants to go back the NYC with us. I don’t think he’s in any hurry… that’s been almost 40 years now.
I met a young, rambunctious Firster today. When I meet young Firsters, I always wish them that their First First be a masculine First. I believe that they will go far in the Firsting game, though they actually thought they may surpass me, the carrier of The First That Will Change Everything, one day. I had to gently put them in their place.
What were we talking about again?
I am reminded of a funny/not so funny car crash my brother was in back in the day. He was coming home from work in Los Osos, driving his lifted Land Cruiser in the rain. And because we are all half broke teens, the over sized tires, bought probably third hand, were a little on the bald side, Well, it was raining and he was driving a little fast (probably had a shift beer or three in him too) and while coming up to a stop sign, hydroplaned. Right into the back of a car. Who did not stop, but peeled out, tore its bumper and liscence plate off and got. the. fuck. out. of. there. Leaving my brother stranded, with flat tires (never buy third hand tires) and someone’s bumper and plate stuck to the front of his POS.
And I, at 14, was enlisted to drive our fathers truck back from picking said POS from that shitty beach town intersection, where it spent the night with an extra 100 pounds of steel in the back.
That reminds me of when I rear ended a guy after a Lou Reed concert. (Yes I’m serious.) I started to get out of my car to exchange information when he took off like it was an emergency. It must have been a stolen car.
Yep. Me too. Well, it was outside LAX but same. At first I thought they’d sandbagged me on purpose for insurance fraud, since they stopped abruptly, but when they drove off I think the driver just didn’t know how to drive the stolen car.
In LA, I completely understand why you would be thinking insurance fraud.
So, my Twitter feed is filling up with people who were banned and who are now … not banned. As GT would say, “O frabjous day!”
I bet a lot of people who said they were going to leave the company are starting to play nice.
Hmmmm. https://twitchy.com/brettt-3136/2022/04/26/twitters-top-lawyer-cried-during-a-meeting-about-elon-musks-takeover-of-the-company/
?
My first car was a 1987 Ford Tempo. The car was garbage and I haven’t bought a Ford since.
My dad has “better” car stories. He owned a 1970 something Saab. I think 78 but I may be off a few years. That car was a steaming pile of shit from day one. I will always remember two things about the car. First, my dad and I were driving into NYC on the Palisades Interstate Parkway. The engine cut out for no reason. Dad got it off the road, onto the median, and we waited until a state trooper called a tow truck. The car wouldn’t start.
Second, the car spent more time in the shop than in our garage because something was always wrong. My dad went to the dealer to try to persuade them to take the car back. They would not do it. Undeterred, my father buys yellow paint and has my sister paint large lemons on the doors and hood. Then dad parked it in front of the dealership. On at least one weekend he stood with the car holding a sign. The dealer asked him to move the car and my dad asked him to take the car back. No. So, the car stayed.
This went on for three or four weeks. Somehow, Saab corporate got wind of what was going on. They offered to fix the car. My father told them it was impossible. They tried and failed. They gave him the car back and he parked it in front of the dealership. About a week later the dealer bought the car from my dad. He didn’t get all his money back but he did get a pound of flesh.
IIRC, my car was a 1983 Ford Tempo. It got smooshed. Bad.
It may have done you a favor.
smoosh
also smoosh
“..and that inspired me to go to law school. So I could fight for the little guy. Or at least for the little car.”
I’d be a liar to say that’s the reason. But I did inherit my dad’s stubbornness when I believe my client is right.
I knew it!
*pounds table for dramatic effect*
Mother F-er…
I just cracked the bathroom sink – the little steel bathroom cup fell into it.
I would have assumed your brass balls would have done it.
And sorry about your sink.
I feel as though these are euphemisms. That what is really being discussed is something to do with an anus. Like Slumbrew lost his anal virginity and Chafed is ribbing him over it.
Slumbrew and his damned CGI claws!
My first car was 1984 Buick Skyhawk…in 1999. My parents bought it for my older sister, but she still didn’t have her license by then. It had cracked heads and a whole lot else wrong with it. My dad and I spent months tearing apart and rebuilding it. One of the things that had to be replaced late was the radiator. We put in a new used one…but failed to check the anti-freeze to water ratio. Then a cold snap came and it all froze. Thawed it all out in a neighbor’s garage, drained it and put in a good mixture. Seemed to run fine, so a couple days I drove it to work at 5am in freezing weather. It seized up after about 10 miles of a 17 mile commute. D E D. Managed to coast close to where my oldest sister lived at the time that I could walk there and get a ride to work. (and in all the confusion I locked the keys inside, so we had to break in through the trunk just to see if we could get it started again later)
Morning, Glibs.
I expected to at least see Sean and his pre-links links before I needed to hit the road.
Well, it’s past time for me to hit the road, see you in the office, folks.
But I’m already in the office!
Of course, once again, the music for this series https://youtu.be/UIPr4UyiZGE
Good morning, GL (and you, too, U, when you get to the office!)
I often joke that I like to drive my cars until the wheels fall off. Only once has that almost literally been true. Two cars ago, I had an ’02 Dodge Neon, the first of two used cars I bought from Enterprise when they had a lot here in Dayton. At work, I had the job of driving mailed-in deposits and loan payments over to one of the CU’s branches to be processed. One day, just as I was pulling into the parking lot of the branch, I suddenly found myself unable to steer the car in the direction I wanted to go. Turns out one of the tie rods (left front, I think?) had broken.
I had the car towed to the nearest Chrysler/Plymouth/Dodge dealership and fixed, but I decided that was close enough to “wheels falling off” to get a new car. (That turned out to be an ’08 Pontiac Vibe, which was a Toyota Matrix under the skin.) Not nearly as dramatic a car trouble story as others’, but I hope I never have such a story to tell. ::knocks wood vigorously::
Morning, GT.
In the category of “text half-read from the corner of my eye” I thought I saw a label this morning saying “beef salad sandwich” It said no such thing, but now I’m trying to come up with a recipe for that name.
So many options!
Start with corned beef, add mayo and a little sauerkraut, diced potatoes,and a hint of horseradish.
Or, start with roast beef, make an extremely pasty gravy, add roasted carrots, onions–spreadable beef pot roast!
Any other ideas?
My thoughts to go the pot roast sandwiches I used to have when raiding the fridge for leftovers as a kid. The four ingredients there are beef, mayo, american cheese, and white bread. Though it may have more nostalgia value for me than for other people. I haven’t had one of those in a long time because I rarely have leftover beef.
I like the corned beef idea, though I’d sub cole slaw (un-“dressed” maybe?) for the sauerkraut (and probably skip the potatoes.)
I think someone would have to sit down, cook a bunch of variations and figure out the best one(s).
Personally I’m of the mind that fewer ingredients would be more in the spirit of [something]-salad sandwiches, as most of them have very short recipies.
Short recipes FTW! /lazy cook
Seeing NA’s reference to Deviled meat below, I went and looked that up. It certainly seems to fit the bill. It’s basically – put beef in food processor, add mayo and seasoning, puree.
And why not? Why should chickens and tuna have all the fun?
Ham salad & egg salad may like a word…
Freeze your butt last night ?
I’m happy to report that my butt maintained thermal comfort – because I remained indoors after returning home from my after-work Y workout. My phone had been reminding me of the impending Frost Advisory ALL DAMN DAY!
This morning, I’ll probably need something more substantial to wear to work than my favorite Spring jacket. Enough already!
You’ll be fine, GT. Gaia will be roasting any day now. Who knows, if the projected sea level rises occur you could be looking at beachfront property!
Yeah, I had a bit of a frosty windshield when I left work.
Yeah we’re cold again but all I could think was enjoy it while it lasts because soon it will be 80s and humid overnight.
Whenever we had a roast that my mom thought was too tough, it went into the food processor to be ground into powder and made into devilled meat.
If it actually turned into powder instead of pate, it was definately too dry.
We cooked lean meat in my household.
As do I. There’s still enough overall moisture that you don’t get powder unless you cooked it dry.
Mornin’, reprobates. Mrs. Patzer and son have recovered from their nasty colds. Which they were kind enough to share with me. Our family believes in sharing.
Its their way of showing they care.
Good morning, ‘patzie! (Hmmm… you’ve changed somehow…) Hope you feel better ASAP!
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=H2h1MY70uag
suh’ fam
whats goody
TALL CANS! (of ice tea….Im trying to curtail my after-work drinking so I can get more shit done when I get home)
Tall Covfefe! And, brr, it is cold this morning.
Good Morning:
My only good car story was a ’71 Datsun 510 (which i miss), that would not start sometimes unless i hit the bendix starter with a hammer. Just a tap.
hope everyone enjoys the sunshine today.
Once the starter on my ’77 Cutlass got old it did the same. I kept a framing hammer under the seat. It seemed an easy enough replace job until I learned that the transmission had to be moved back to allow the start to clear for removal. I used that hammer a LONG time before I finally replaced it.
I resemble that remark! *remembers ancient Ford that would stall out at intersections* Used to jump out, pop the hood and use a jump wire between the battery and the starter solenoid. So humiliating. I smashed that one up real good before I repaired the electrical problems.
Heh. I have an air-born story about one of those. 30 feet of Evel Knieval and then sneaking into my parents house to steal eggs to crack into the radiator just so buddy could nurse it home. We hit a deact. That’s where they dig a ditch across an old logging road to keep people like us out.
Eggs?? In the radiator??? How in the world does THAT work?
And good morning, Fes!
Well, the heat of the engine cooks the egg so that it clogs any leaks on a temporary basis. It’s a temporary workaround to get the car to someplace easier to work on the actual damage.
::insert “The More You Know”© GIF::
Good morning, ‘bodru! How’s your bottle-feeding lambie?
Many bad “accidents” but the one that really shines was when we punctured the oil pan on a logging road out in the middle of nowhere. Like at least a hundred miles from help. I had the bright idea to shut the engine down when we hit a downhill so that we didn’t blow the engine. Car got a mind of its own, steering locked down and we ran off the gravel and through a twenty-foot ditch. Judi was crying and I was Joker laughing. I don’t now how I’ve survived this long. I hated that Civic.
Mornin’, Festy!
Mornin’ Patzie! So many stories, so little time.
https://www.nj.com/bergen/2022/04/nj-cop-charged-with-stealing-from-police-union-prosecutor-says.html
“The prosecutor’s office “received information” on Feb. 25 that Amorosso “made cash withdrawals and transferred money out of multiple PBA (Police Benevolent Association) bank accounts without authorization,” Musella said in a news release.”
This is what happens when you don’t pay attention in class. It’s OK to fleece the average citizen, but leave the big boys alone.
His mistake was forgetting 10% for the big guy.
Older friend from teen-aged years had a Mustang that dropped the drive shaft at the transmission. Pole vaulted that car. He was fine. We almost always turned out fine. Sometimes not. That was half the fun of it.
Morning all,
Good thing about being old is forgetting all the good times with cars that wouldn’t start, wouldn’t run except towards ditches and wouldn’t stop on command.
I still have dreams that shake me awake. Real adrenalin ones.
Daily Quordle 93
4️⃣7️⃣
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I’m doing my part!
Curses, chumped again!
Daily Quordle 93
5️⃣9️⃣
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Hah! So funny! Precisely 40 years ago I gave not one shit about what I was going to do with my life. It was weed, beer, my friends and righteous babes! I have come full circle (aside from the weed part). I’m that shithead from Fast Times.
Teenaged Spicoli, not the Marxist cunte.