We've all had some wild stuff go on in out lives involving our vehicles. I thought I'd start a thread to get some of those stories out there... One upmanship is welcomed and encouraged...here's one...

Late Summer 1985 - Santa Cruz, California - Spontaneous Party Friday Night
So James shows up in a brand new 5.0 Mustang...and James, at this time is on the wagon....and his cousin is too..so he let's his cousin run up the hill to go pick up some other dudes to come party down with us in town..

After about 3 hours, no cousin, no 5.0. James asks me if he can borrow my 68 F250 to run up Old San Jose Hiway out by Casalegnos and I say yes...I'm fairly well toasted by now...and don't want to take the ride up...

James backs out and pull right into a Beemer, right in front of me! That shot peels back my bumper and cuts OFF the rear quarter panel of the Beemer...level from the top of the wheel well to the rear tail light.

Does James stop? NO..he RUNS off in my truck and is gone for like 10 - 15 minutes...by the time the cops show up...so does James. After much wrangling and drunk testing and heckling by us drunks...all is settled and the police leave. Turns out the dude in the Beemer er, uh had been tipping a few..cops ruled it a wash and let every one go.

So, still no 5.0 'stang....so about 10 of us pile into my truck. Three up front, I'm driving..about 7 out back in the bed...and up the hill we go...

We find Jame's 5.0 on it's lid... no one around we pile off into bushes looking for ...bodies I guess...nothing....I'm parked in the middle fo the road with flashers and hi beam on... One guy we find all cut up...but alive and walking around...turns out the cousin had fallen off the wagon and lost it while racing some Trans Am down the hill.....

The CHP showed up... He and I had a relationship going back a couple of years over various reasons, situations .... But I'm too toasted to get too close.... He orders my truck out of the road and while I'm parking it ..I run over some mail boxes....Chippy says...you just got yourself a ride down the hill son....you've had enough.

Other friends show up, other police, sherrifs tow trucks and so on.

So. My good friend...I'm called "Crazy" he's called "Sane" ...any way we get put in the back of the cruiser (NO CUFFS) and no sooner do we take off than Chippy gets a call...another roll over in town... Chippy says..buckle up boys and hang on...that cruiser was rolling harsh...we thought he was going to lose it on some of them turns...what a RIDE!!!

So, at the scene of his call (bad one Ambulance and all) he orders us to Stay Put. Darned heater is on full blast, we're caged in the car....drunk, sweating, suffering. After about an eternity...he just walks over, let's us out the back..and says. "Walk home boys and don't drink any more tonight, understand?"

We piled off down the road...the party was over..I slept on the floor and walked up the hill (6 miles) to get my truck next morning....Hungover to beat the band....the part was REALLY over by then...That afternoon....I went and got a case of beers...and the story telling began as the 'regular crowd' came back around.

True story...um...I was 19 at the time...

TH1567

 

Well, not in Ford truck, but in my '78 Camaro, roadracing from Mesa to Phoenix in I-10..might have beem I-15, don't recall (yes Iwas toasted as well)...anyway had just picked up a Pizza in Mesa to bring home to my roomies, finally caught and passed a late 60's Mustang...but just as I passed I realized WHY I was able to catch and pass him, he slowed down because of the cop on the side of the freeway. I buzzed the cop at about 110, next thing Iknow there's a light show going on behind me.

I pull over, try to maintain and the cop runs me through a sobriety test...I didn't do too bad. He looks at my license, and was able to pronounce my last name (Sicilian...no one ever gets it right) and I say "impressive" and he points to his name tag, had a dago last name too.

We have a little BS session, tells me he pissed now since he's just getting off his shift, if he rolls me in he's stuck with another few hours of OT..."Oh", BTW, what's that smell?" I ask him if he referring to the Sausage and linguicia Pizza in the back seat, says "yes", the says..

"Gve me the pie and stay off my freeway".

He didn't have to ask twice.

Roomies were pissed though.

 

Early 80's, I have a Chebby K10 4x4 with big tires and PTO winch named by my buds as 'the beast'. It's early evening, raining like cats & dogs. Knock comes on the doorfiguring it's maybe beer coming we answer. Well it's not beer, but a plea for help from my cousin who's walked about 9 miles in the rain to get us to help pull out his old Int'l 2x2 that's stuck, on flat ground, up the mountain in the red, slick cat doo mud. Ok says I, thinking that I'll get beer one way or another.

Up the hill we goes, ribbing him non stop about being there in the first place and leaving his date in the truck while's he fumbles for help.

Finally slip slide up to where the rig sits, feel it out and I figure that I can get him moving if I kinda pull him from the outside of the road a bit, it's a slight curve and we knew we didn't want the get that hulk into the bank.

Now for some dumb reason I had my winch control lever off so the winch works, but you gotta get undt and turn the engage with a wrench. SO we hook up the chains and give him a little tug to get it moving. In doing so I break the surface of the Cat S*#t. mud and sink like a rock up to the left head light. Thereby leaving escape only through the passenger door and making the winch engage inaccessable except with mud scuba gear.

We try a little shovel action only to find that the mud just flows back and gets more fluid the more we mess with it.

My roomie had his wimpy Ford there, so he tries to pull me and in the process just sinks me deeper and threatens to stick himself. Now the ole Chebby has a gas tank in the cab and was only maybe a 3rd full when we left so the tilt of the truck exposes the feed tube and I'm essentially out of gas.

Back down the hill goes the roomy to get gas, beer, on me of course and some help. An hour or so of rain and they finally show back up with another Ford 4x and another chebby 4x, chains, gas and beer.

By the time we were finished, we had mud to our waists, no beer and it took 2 fords and a chebby inline to pull me out. What a sucking sound that was.
We all went to the Int'l and pushed on it and out it came and down the hill we all went for a shower, more beer and some very deserved ribbing in a warm house.

Moral of the story;
If you're gonna pull something in the red C.S. mud, make sure the winch works, have plenty of gas and don't make too much fun of the stuckee untill you get them out.

Rich

 

Memories on the tailgate of my old 76 F250 4x4 come to mind. But I probably bes' leave those memories in the cranium. Not too appropriate for a family forum.
However, I do think I know why they call the back of a pickup, a bed.

 

Winter 1988 -- Hiway One...from Rio Del Mar to Green Valley Road and 152.

So, yeah, so I'm running down the road, wife, baby daughter in my 86 F250 Diesel..I'm sitting on top of the world singing songs...have a great time....in the slow lane doing the speed limit (55) ...From out of nowhere this dude pulls along side and flips me the bird...swings around in front of me and jacks up on the brakes...

Sheesh man, what the heck is going on? I slow down and let him roll on...He runs down the road about a half mile ahead...and then he's in the fast lane on the binders....and as soon as he pulls along side...up with the bird again...and he's yelling at me all kind of stuff... I do NOT know this guy from Adam...

Zoom, he's off and by this time... I'm one mad pick-em-truck driver so I pursue this guy not too fast..and all the while he's flipping birds out the window... Who was this nut...my wife is crying 'cause I'm like seeing red...daughter is crying 'cause Mom is crying.

This guy trys to ace a quick exit on me...I pile of the highway through the gore point. He gets caught at a light.... with his window down. I'm a couple of cars back...and I e-brake it and as the truck slides to a stop, I'm out the door...

This dude is yelling, I'm yelling and winding up to blast this guy right in the side of the head...he starts to rolling up his window...and as I'm reaching in to choke him....the light turns green....

He's leaned away over the gear selector, one hand on the window crank...I'm a shouting and grabbing a holt of his clothes.... All I want to do is yank him out of the car...

This dude rolls the window UP on my arm....and starts driving off but I guess everyone is like transfixed on this pre-historic road rage incident gone sideways..so they're all just rollin slow...

So I yank my arm out and take to trying to break his window...cars are rolling now...

I let go....and off he goes... The next right hits the hiway...and I'm on it so mad at him and now my self for blowing my cool....

Like I always say.... I was a straight up stone cold knucklehead of the first order...and when I get in a mode of just being cool..trying to grow up a little...bingo bango...this happens.

It's just a story...I'm not proud of it...I had busted teeth in my head by then...I knew better..

TH1567
I was 22, built for speed and mean as a snake....Rock On Red Rider...

 

My little wild event happened in 1983 near Kamloops, British Columbia.
Trying to find Spruce Grove fishing lodge in the Kamloops area.
Took this old slick logging road, in a heavy drizzle. Slipping and sliding, having a bit of fun.

I guess I missed my turnoff to the lodge.
All of the suddenly, the road just ended; just a big huge washout.
Slammed on my brakes, just in time.

Threw it in reverse, only to slide into the side of the road. Dam. Stuck.
Oh hell; it's only a mile or two back to the lodge to get a tow truck.

Spent the night in my truck. Next morning started my short journey to find the lodge.
Got some hiking food; two beers and a banana, and started my journey.
Those two beers and that banana didn't last very long.
I'm thinking, it's just around the next bend. The next bend. The next bend.

Walking, walking walking. Dam, those Canadian cows are huge, and why is
that bird, that's perched above me, the size of a teradactyl, eyeing me as
though I'm just below it on the food chain.

Each bend was about a mile apart. Finally reached the lodge, which was close
to closing up for the winter.
Luckily the owner/operator was there, so I asked him if I could use the phone for a tow truck.
He asked where abouts was my truck. I pointed in the direction and told him
roughly about a 4 or 5 hour walk, which turned out to be about 12 miles.

He threw a tow chain in the back of his International truck and said hop in. I did.
Got to my truck and he towed it out. That was cool.

I followed him back to his lodge and asked him how much for the tow.
He said that a tow truck from Kamloops would have charged me $250.00.
He charged me $25.00. That was even cooler. I then asked him if any of those rustic
one room cabins were available. He said yes. How much? $30.00.....Deal.

$55.00 for a tow and a rustic one room cabin rental. That was the coolest.

Got my stuff situated, got my fly pole, sat on the wooden pier, and had a blast
fly casting for lake trout. Caught so many, and threw them all back.

Slept good that night. A 12 mile hike will do that to you.

Next morning left, when I got onto the road, my truck developed a horrible vibration.
Thought maybe it was a bent drive shaft or bent wheel.
Luckily it was just about 5 pounds of dried mud caked on the inner side of the left rear wheel.
Chipped off the dried mud, and was on my way home, from a pretty dam good vacation.

What turned out to be a bummer, was actually one of the best highlights of that particular Canada trip.

I considered that my 'pot of gold at the end of the rainbow'; the 'rainbow' being the road,
and the 'pot of gold' being the the lodge and the kindness of the owner/operator.