What’s your best roadside-repair story?
Our According to You series has really brought out the best in you, dear reader of all things Hagerty Media. Last week’s question prompted some entertaining and surprisingly insightful responses, and today we hope to get the same level of responses with this question:
What’s your best story about a roadside repair?
For those of us who travel on a regular basis, this question is either very easy or very difficult to answer. Mishaps and malfunctions can happen anywhere, and the more you drive, the more stories you have to tell.
For me, I am light on stories, as I rarely use my old cars to venture too far away from city streets or suburban roads/stroads. But when I do hit the highway for far away zip codes, I pack spare parts relevant to whatever car I may be driving.
The photo above is my 1995 Lincoln Mark VIII LSC with its spare alternator, and Constant Control Relay Modules (CCRM). The alternator is remanufactured and the CCRMs are junkyard finds. This is certainly an odd gathering, but remanufactured alternators are all of dubious quality for long term owners like myself (they only last 1-5 years in my experience) and CCRMs are unique to the late-93 to 1995 Lincoln Mark Series with zero parts interchangeability with other Fords.
Having these bits around gives peace of mind. While I can likely get the alternator anywhere, it’s better to swap it out in less than 30 minutes, instead of waiting hours for a tow to the nearest town to get the ball rolling with a local mechanic. Or local parts stores. Or local junkyards in hopes of finding an “unobtainum” relay module. I want none of this, so these parts (and tools for installation) live with my luggage in the trunk.
Just about anything else that can leave me stranded is likely found locally, so with these in my trunk I feel safe and secure going just about anywhere in this car. And what a ride it is! Maybe one day my 32-valve bullet train will actually break down on the highway, leaving me with a story worthy of an answer to this question. But for now, I have nothing…so I hope you can help us out:
What’s your best story about a roadside repair?
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In 1978, I had just finished my sophomore year of college. My ’67 Mustang was packed with virtually everything I owned, ready to head back to my parent’s house for the Summer. So I fired it up and hit the road. Only got about a mile or so from the Dorm when the heater core let loose and started pouring antifreeze into the passenger floor. Of course… Luckily I made it back to campus before anything could overheat.
Having stayed till the last minute to get a bit more partying in, the campus was pretty much deserted. There were a few tools in the trunk, but it was Sunday afternoon and nothing was open (small Southern town in the 70’s). Hmmm… what to do, what to do?
Came up with the bright idea to use my pocket knife to “Liberate” about a foot or so of the school’s old garden hose that stayed behind the bushes at the back of the dorm. Used the hose to bypass the heater core by hooking the waterpump’s outlet to its inlet and headed toward home.
When I finished the 95 mile journey, I popped the hood to let everything cool down. Went back an hour or so later to see how it was doing. I squeezed the hose with my fingers and it fell into two pieces. I had apparently just BARELY made it home.
Many years ago, when my late wife Dorothy and I were first dating, we did a drive to Whistler, BC in my 1975 Chevy Blazer. On the way back, I heard a slight bang and then some “rattling”. Having had a similar experience with 350 V8s of that era, I knew a rocker arm had failed. Tools in the truck, took off the valve cover, removed the companion rocker arm and both push rods. Limped home on 7 cylinders. She was so impressed, probably part of the reasons she agreed to marry me!!! LOL
It was the summer of 1970, and my best buddy and I decided to drive to Mt. Tremblant, Quebec to take in the Trans Am race. We were traveling in a 1929 Ford Model A roadster pickup … bone stock (cable brakes, etc). The roadster pickup had a cloth top whose frame was secured to the body by four wing nuts … easily made into a convertible, but only had floppy side curtains instead of windows. This particular model was equipped with the front fender tire/wheel spares and we used both on more than one occasion during this trip. At a gas stop on the way to the track, someone said that they clocked us at 70 mph on the highway which may have been accurate as the engine required an overhaul upon our return to the Detroit area. We arrived late at night and the next morning the truck wouldn’t start … not even a click. As most of the folks in the camping area were French Canadian we were pretty much out of luck with communications … even though I’d taken three years of French classes. A couple of guys in a 440 Charger came up to us and tried to help including towing the Model A around in gear with the a chain attached to the trailer hitch of the Charger. When even that didn’t work, and after a flourish of hand gestures, we pulled the battery out of the truck and they stuffed it, and us, in the back seat of the Charger. Off we went flying down the narrow mountain roads around the track with them making blind passes of many vehicles ahead of us. I’ll never forget being the back seat of that Charger as it went sailing into a small town. The road into town had a 90 degree right turn with a gas station. The Charger slid into the parking lot (pedestrians caually dogging the sliding Charger) and we all hopped out. The driver spoke with the station attendant, left him with the battery and we all headed back to the track. Later in the day, they motioned for us to pile back into the Charger, we sped into town again, picked up the battery and had it back in the Model A. Turns out the voltage regulator had failed. The fix was to jamb a wooden match stick to close the regulator points and to quickly pull the match stick out before turning off the engine. We did make it safely back to Detroit (suffering only a few flat tires), and, although the engine was toast, we made memories that we could never forget. How our parents decided to let us make that trip in that old car is still a mystery … perhaps they knew that we would be creating those unforgettable memories. Oh, I bought a 1930 Model A a couple of years ago … in part due to that 1929 truck in 1970. The 1930 is a basically stock Tudor (has windows), but has a 12 volt conversion, alternator (no points and a match stick) plus air conditioning which makes it viable here in Texas.
My first car was a ‘66 VW bug. Lots of interesting repairs, but one I’ll never forget. On my way home one evening, when the gas pedal suddenly dropped all the way to the floor, but the engine dropped to idle. I coasted to the side of the road, about 8 miles from town.
Pulling on the pedal, the cable seemed very loose. Opening the hood, I saw that the ball on the end of the cable (which attached to the throttle arm on the carb) had broken off and was missing. I pulled the shoe lace from one of my sneakers, tied it to the cable, and then to the throttle arm.
Drove it that way for a few weeks until I had the cash for a new cable.
I’ve got a hundred road-side repair stories… This one happened during Spring Break of my Senior year in High School. My friend and I had decided we would take his ’68 Fairlane because it was newer and bigger than my ’67 Mustang. At the time, it was about an 8 hour trip from Nashville, TN to Panama City, FL (this was before you could take interstates all the way there). It was over 90 degrees and we were on a two-lane road in the middle of nowhere, Alabama when his belt shredded and we started overheating. Luckily, we found his old Boy Scout belt in the trunk – you know the Army-green one made out of some kind of woven cloth… We removed the buckle and managed to tie it around the three pulleys tight enough that it stayed. We limped on until we came to a gas station that sold belts a few miles later. Bought the belt, installed it, and had a crazy good time on the beaches of Panama City like only two 18 year olds on their first unsupervised road trip could.
Driving locally with my AH Bugeye when my gas pedal cable broke at the carbs(2) connection. Used choke cable to get me to safe place, otherwise known as a parking lot. Disconnected choke cable, replaced broken accel cable with it and took off. Took a while to get used to newest system control but it got me home. Never left the house again without spare accel cable. Owned car 28 years, put 20,000 miles on “Limey”
Quite a few years back a friend and I left Chicago for Minnesota in my 66 VW Beetle. I knew the engine was a bit tired, but had just adjusted the valves, re-jetted the carb to run cooler and wasn’t going to push it. About 3 hrs out, somewhere near Madison, WI, the engine let loose. We towed it to the nearest repair shop, which was actually a VW dealer. They took it into the shop and confirmed the motor was toast, then quoted around $1000 to rebuild it. Not the kind of money this 21 year-old wanted to put into a $1500 car, so were leaving the dealer feeling totally dejected when one of the mechanics followed us into the parking lot and offered to sell me a good running motor for $100! All we had to do was pull it out of his old ’60 VW hunting bus and swap it into my Beetle. We bummed around for an hour ’til he got off of work, then he drove us to his house where we could drive the old bus to proof the motor. It seemed to run OK, so I agreed to the price and my motor as an exchange. He provided the tools and we went to work. No sooner than we started pulling the bus motor, the skies opened up into a torrential downpour! Working through the rain, we had his motor swapped in about an hour and left mine on an old pallet. A couple of tweaks and she fired right up. We made it to Minneapolis and home a few days later, without a hitch. That motor was still running great when I sold the car over a year later. Will never forget this guy’s generosity and the kind of fellowship that old air-cooled guys continue to share all these years later.
Back in 1982 I was driving the best man and 2 ushers from the church to the reception when my 1979 Cutlass had a flat tire. Dressed in our tuxes the best man and I had it changed in 14 minutes and made the reception on time!
Many times I’ve engineered a fix but the possible best was, no spare, tire with a cut side wall. i dismounted tire with jack, put a tube into it and sewed up the gash in tire. a visit from the ether bunny and off we went. got us home.
In 1976 a friend and I drove my 1968 VW bus from Los Angeles to Montreal for the 76 Olympics. After the games were over, we drove back across Canada. While driving through Saskatchewan in the middle of nowhere, the bus suddenly dies. We pull over, take off the bike racks (which was actually a big pain) and open the engine hatch. Turns out there was an idle shut-off valve on the side of the carburetor. It had wiggled its way loose landing on the engine and shorting out the ignition system. It would have been an easy fix, except that when the valve came lose it started jiggling in place, eventually making the round opening it screwed into an oblong shape. The unit would no longer fit! Eventually we figured out that if we just plugged the hole the engine would run. So we put a rubber bicycle tire patch over the hole and wrapped electrical tape around the carburetor to keep it in place. Not only did it work, but we drove the rest of the way across Canada and down the entire west coast back to LA. Thank goodness for tire patches!
It was about a girl.
In the late 1970’s I was driving the 1964 Rambler Classic that my father left me when he died, about 400 miles north of the city to visit my girlfriend. It was late in the day and the road was relatively deserted as it twisted through Canadian forests and countryside.
Suddenly the car overheated. Upon examination I discovered it had taken a stone through the radiator and was leaking quite badly. Of course being a teenager I had none of the provisions, money or tools I would carry today. Many miles from civilization, I had no clue how to fix a car and couldn’t reach out for help. I knew enough that I knew I had to plug the hole somehow at the very least to have a chance.
So I decided to break a dead branch from the woods into shorter pieces. I then took a piece about the right size with a pointy end, wrapped a piece of cloth around the point and jammed it into the space between the front grill and the rad with the pointy end in the hole. I hammered it into place with a rock. Luckily the grill in those days was relatively strong. I then found some water in a ditch, fashioned a scoop from something and filled the rad as best I could.
It took a while but it worked. It worked so well that I was able to drive the final 100 miles to my girlfriend without stopping. Then at the end of the weekend, I drove 400 miles back to the city. In fact it worked so well I continued driving around the city with the stick still in place for another 2 or 3 weeks, occasionally adding some water, until I could get repairs organized.
My latest adventure if you want to call it that had me driving my 1939 Dodge (two toned green and gray) propane powered truck home from work in Portland Ore, on a hot day in early May. The truck was running like a top but I figured I’d better fuel up before I got home as I was leaving on a big merchant ship for several months in the next week. I pulled into the service station and filled her up but as I was getting ready to go the truck WOULD NOT START. I of course had a million things to do that day and this wasn’t on the schedule so I decided to call a tow truck, got the usual we’re busy today discussion but should be there in 2 hrs. Anyway I spotted another Old School mechanical Nomad across the lot in a 1962 Chevy P/U, so I invited him over we talked cars for about an hour, nice guy from the neighborhood, called the tow service, still gonna be 2 hrs. At that point I put on my thinking cap and realized the Cavalry wasn’t coming and I’m on my own so I disconnected the battery, pulled out the distributor changed the points, hooked it all back up turned the key flipped the switch and was home “Toute Suite”. The lesson I take from this is :
1) The world moves too fast old vehicles allow you to slow down and smell the roses.
2) There are always cool things that happen in old vehicles that can’t be predicted.
3) Getting out of a jam by knowing a new mechanical “secret” is satisfying as I now know to keep some points on hand, the repair was maybe a 10 minute operation.
4) Sailed down the Columbia River the next day to face the onslaught of a hot main bearing but that’s another tail for a another venue.
We took our boat to our favorite lake which was 3 hours from home. I had just launched the boat with the family into the water and drove up the ramp to park the truck and trailer. I pressed the brake pedal and it went to the floor. Found a huge puddle of brake fluid dripping off one of the front calipers. Upon close inspection I found a brake hose had burst. A friend of ours had come up in her car so I took it to the nearest auto parts store 45 minutes away and they had to order the hose. Lucky for me I put the order in before 12 so they would have it in the afternoon that day. Drove back to lake, enjoyed the day on the water and later drove back to store to get the hose. By late afternoon it was 100 degrees out and I changed the hose and bled the brakes.
Back in the late 80s I had a 1970 F250 Ford 4X4. Driving home one day one of the rear drive shaft U-joints let go. Only about 10-15 miles from home, I got out and under. Took the rear shaft completely off and tossed it in the truck bed. Locked the front hubs, put the transfer case in 4 high and drove home. That has probably been done a million times.
In the early 80’s we graduated from our 72 Pinto wagon, which we loved but our family outgrew (35mpg hwy, wow! See Pinto stories above), to a 74 Volvo 145 wagon in bright orange. Mechanical fuel injection got 20 city/30 Hwy in air conditioned bliss, and it carried anything! One afternoon driving home on a regular visit to Tucumcari from Albuquerque the car quit running! After coasting for a couple of miles I got out to troubleshoot. Got plenty of gas, battery good, plenty of spark, no way to get at the injectors but when the wife tried to start the car, I couldn’t hear the fuel pump running next to the tank! Oh boy, what now, wait for an expensive tow of 100 or so miles? Well something in my head said “when an electric motor doesn’t run, whack it” (I raced slot cars back in the day, so..), so I grabbed a handy roadside rock, had the wife crank it, tapped the pump, and presto! It started! I jumped back in, broke the speed limit, and held on until it quit again, and we coasted on the shoulder for as long as the “pumpkin” would roll, all to the delight of my 5 and 7 year old kids! This proceedure /repair was repeated six or seven more times with the last run getting us from the freeway to our driveway! It turns out to be a common pump problem on the injected engines that one terminal of the commutator will come apart and when the fuel pressure builds and the pump stops, if it lands on that bad spot it won’t restart when asked! A person to start the car while the pump is whacked goes a long way!
Christmas Eve a few years ago I was driving a few hours away in the wife Jeep Grand Cherokee. I had already done a lot of work on this Jeep including swapping engines, and I had a pile of spare parts in the shed. An hour and a half away from home I noticed the interior lights were dim. Sure enough the engine would not turn over- the alternator. Absolutely NO ONE was willing to bring me the alternator in my shed. The gas station attendant told me there was a parts store down the street but wasn’t sure they were open. The rest was long enough for the low battery to start the engine so I zipped down the street. One mile later and now with no lights I parked in front of a store the staff was clearly closing. They had an alternator, and it turned out I had a warranty on the alternator that was in my shed (that they honored anyway), and the guys were nice enough to let me use a couple wrenched from their work cart so I could swap it out. With five minutes until closing, I got it swapped and started, returned their tools, thanked them for the Christmas gift, and went on my way.