Real Life Roadkill-type Stories

Nearly my entire car life has been rusty rat box roadkill kind of cars since I was most always a broke fella focused on the family and making a buck. The wife always had the best car I could afford and told her never worry about me. You have the good car to rescue me should it arise. And it has!

The worst part was I had her car! She drove through the night from Long Island New York to Maryland. She left during an ice storm and arrived just after day break with a borrowed car and trailer to trolley her car home. Then the rescue car gave up loosing her of 4 cylinders and blowing smoke like CRAZY!

We pulled over where I-95 crosses with US-1. Found an auto parts store where I repaired her car. (Alternator.) Loaded the rescue vehicle onto the trolley and the ride home was basically uneventful. Save the cops blocking the Brooklyn Bridge to raid a van with a couple of guys in turbines. This was just after the first World Trade Center bombing. So, to be honest, I felt bad for those guys if they were innocent. LOTS OF COPS! Stopped everyone. The cop that got out of the car in front of us looked like an easy 6’10” terminator and built, at least as bad *** as Arnold.
We were completely caught by surprise and started to freak out ourselves. It’s kind of unnerving when a cop stands up out of his car, and the height of the roof of the car is at his naval.

Another time, I was tired of traveling SLOW oh so SLOW behind granny and gramps below the limit speed. When the opportunity struck, I missed the gas in my small block four-speed Cuda. I got around them, made a right turn, spun some more tires, BOOOOM!!!

And my driveshaft was now bouncing on the floor. Luckily and unbelievably, this all happened right in front of security Dodge of Amityville, where I just walked in with the joint with a guy, giggled and said no problem, and handed me one. Roadside fix! And it was simply amazing that I actually had a small ratchet set with me.

Driving my first car (‘67 Impala) loaded with friends on a road trip to and from northern New Jersey, in 95* heat, the water pump finally gave up on Staten Island New York. While I was walking aimlessly to find an auto parts store, a phone call was set out to the other car waaayyyy ahead of us. They made the return trip with tools, started to take the water pump off in order to make this deal quicker.

Well, the two friends, whom I live to death, were very heavily intoxicated on mescaline and smoking weed and drinking beer.
They tried very hard but end up ******* up the radiator badly where it would not hold water. I thought great! I have a brand new water pump and no radiator to fill it with. We sat for hours baking of the sun.

Along comes this trucker. His deep southern accent was telling us he was from South Carolina. Once we told him the problem, he says,” what y’all need is some bubblegum! Not any kind of bubblegum you need Wrigleys. Not hubba Bubba, not bubble licious, not bazooka Joe, Wrigleys!”

I’ll be honest, I got a bit mad and said I’m not in the mood for games and jokes this is serious. I’m 90 miles from home stuck and I don’t know what to do! He said follow me. So, over to his Peterbilt he points out all the Wrigleys gum stuck in the radiator, stopping his radiator leaks. I looked at him and I said.” you have got to be shitting me! That really works!” he just smiled and says I hope y’all got some money for gum just chew the sugar out of it. Stick it in there let it sit for an hour or two and you will get home.

May the Lord Almighty bless that trucker!
That southern redneck trick work better than a charm!
And it lasted till I got rid of the car years later.

The stories could go on and on.