We all have times when something cuts under what we plan to do, or when we really want to fix something there are reasons we cannot do it yet.

The parts either cannot be found, or we must save for them, or perhaps we cannot find a practitioner of the arts required to reproduce something.

My experience has shown me that this is an excellent time to leave our favorite car at home - but I know as well (speaking for myself) that there will be times I might believe I can go one more mile before putting my "baby" up on blocks (so to speak).

- Let's face it, we love our cars and want to drive them as much as possible!

So there is plenty of opportunity for "Miscarriages of Automotive Prudence" to come into play...

Case number: 1984JAN07

I don't know why we were on the road in the Oldsmobile that day...

It was a 1957 Olds 88 four door, and normally my Dad used it to pull his old box trailer to the dump (He never had any faith in the local trash collection company, and hated paying for it even worse. So he took care of it (like many other things) in the "old way").

But there we were on Telegraph Canyon Road in San Diego, tooling along in a blast from the past and really having a great time to tell the truth. The car had a dash panel built like a Wurlitzer Juke Box, and four hundred cubic inches of american iron pumping away under the hood. The day was bright and sunny - not a cloud in the sky! We had found an old fifties channel on the old AM radio in the dash, and life was very good...

Poppa and me were talking and just riding along, we took a left up a hill to climb over into Bonita and had just passed the crest of the hill when something unexpected happened...

The Oldmobile Four Hundred "Rocket Engine" chugged a few times, and then it became very (uncharacteristically) quiet...

WE looked at eachother, the old and the young, with the same exact expression -

"OH SH**!!!"

"What the hell?" I asked.

"We're outta gas! Stupid d****d guage, I had it fixed!!! SUNNABBAB**********(etc)...

Before us extended a very long hill, it curved away to the left, and back to the right as we coasted along. We started out at about 45 miles per hour, and the car did have manual steering - so that was alright. But I began to imagine one heck of a long walk home... (We lived in Lemon Grove, roughly. About twenty miles)

The more I thought about it - it was an absolutely horrible feeling.

But nothing stopped that car.

My Pop let it get up to ten over the speed limit when the slope allowed, and we positively crawled at some parts...

Two miles went by, then three... I stared at the odometer in shear disbelief...

Eventually we came to what looked like an intersection with a light, but traffic was backed up. The light changed at the last minute, and providentially there was a gas station at that particular corner!

We ghosted up to directly in front of one of the pumps, and just STOPPED...
It was absolutely miraculous, we just... stopped right there.
(Car finally out of momentum, and so forth...)

And we stared at eachother....

To this day, I will never forget my father pounding on the steering wheel and laughing, as I got out to pump the gas!!!!

If I really did believe in such things, I would have to say that that machine knew exactly where it was going, and was just waiting for us to agree with it!

(NOTE: Believe it or not, these really are true stories)
(NOTE 2: Sarcastic as it may seem - it was a general motors vehicle...)
(NOTE 3: The guage doesn't work in my truck right now. But I have a pair of extra gas cans!)

- One final note: I know we are all ford lovers here, and that's fine...

But I did love that car a lot, and if I could get it back I would do it without any hesitation whatsoever. Anyone who wants to throw mud in my eye about it -

SCREW YOU! That car had a soul, and I miss it very much.

If for no other reason, my mother drove it across country with me in it when I was little....