Brrrapp, brraappp, brrappp! My phone was now ringing for the 5th time in a row (on vibrate) as it was now beyond obvious that I was being hammer-called by two alternating random numbers from Miami and NY. “What. The. Royal. Hell?!” says I in a very annoyed, exasperated tone as I nearly jammed my finger hitting the “Ignore” option once more.
It was Thanksgiving Night at 7 pm and, after a long day of working on new pitch ideas to get my Jag rescue article approved for publishing, I was at a food and drink spot that I love in Wilmington, NC. I was there enjoying the golden-glow of the Tarven-style lighting, surrounded by dark wood and darker blue and green paint hues on the walls, swaths of cobblestone trim and decor. I get why the Irish designed pubs like this: it’s exactly what you would want after a long day in the Dublin wind and rain.
Considering that it was 40 degrees outside with whipping wind and rain, I was exactly where I wanted to be at that moment. Next to me, there were a bunch of other locals, enjoying a buffet of Irish-themed Thanksgiving trays that filled the room with incredible aromas emanating from the hot bar. Not all of them (ok none of them) were with me in cheering on my NY Giants as they went up against our Divisional arch-rival the Dallas Cowboys for the big Thanksgiving Game that I was looking forward to all week (this is Carolina Panthers Country).
Right as I was hitting “Ignore” on my phone that last time, a good friend of mine walked into the place and noticed I was scowling at the Motorola in front of me. She was meeting me there for the Giants game and Thanksgiving hot bar buffet. “If they call again, you should probably just pick it up – maybe it’s something important and someone is trying to get up with you from another phone/phone number.” She had a point, although, if it was anyone I knew, I would think they’d have texted or left a voicemail at this point. The phone rang again.
“Uh, hello? Is this Matt Hardigree? We’re in front of your house with your car and need you to sign for it” blares out of the phone in a heavy Haitian Creole accent.
&$%#!@#!!!!
[Ed note: As you all know, we bought an $800 NYC taxi as part of our partnership with Copart. It’s already quite the adventure and I’m glad we sent it to SWG first, mostly because anyone else would disown us. – MH]
The Autopian Sent Me On A Wild Mission
A few weeks earlier, I had received a Slack message proposal from The Autopian’s Publisher, Matt Hardigree, asking if I was interested in helping out the team with some Rescue Wrenching on whichever car they were to get for the site from their partnership with Copart. As I’ve stated in pretty much every piece I’ve penned for The Autopian, I’m beyond appreciative and wicked fired-up to be a part of this community. To share my stories in an auto publication is something I’ve always wanted to do since I was a teenager, so the answer is always “yes” whenever they ask anything.
Plus, Matt is a great guy; he has been paramount in getting me to appear on this website in front of all of Autopia and was a key voice in bringing me out to the LA Auto Show last year (my first Auto show and first auto journalistic event – it was awesome). So, I owe him a few. Actually I owe him more than a few, so this cab repair assist was the first step in my “Thanks Matt!” repayment path.
Matt stated that they had purchased an NYC Taxicab of the Nissan NV200 variety — with 375,000 of the hardest miles ever put on a car. The Autopian Suits wanted me to look it over and get it running and roadworthy for a 2hr, 75mph trip up I-40 from my Evil Wrenching Lair (under that active volcano) in Wilmington NC, northwest, up to Jason’s Digital 8-Bit Palace Of Doom.
Matt said the cab was in decent shape, that the engine and transmission were “all there,” and that the wheels rolled. As a plus, there was a battery in it and a key! That sounded easy enough, since I have said yes to much worse rescue scenarios in the past, gleefully. Of course, you can probably tell from the title of this piece that I was dead wrong about just how difficult this task would be.
But, Thanksgiving?!
Well, due to a bit of a communications snafu with the shipping company, Matt’s direction to “Make sure you don’t arrive on the Thanksgiving Holiday” was misinterpreted and taken as “Make sure that you do arrive on the Thanksgiving Holiday.” Hey, it happens, I guess?
I looked at my friend and said with a very concerned, dead-serious, game face: “It’s Go Time!” I also live nearby, so hopping in The world’s Best $400 Durango and scooting home to The Evil Wrenching Lair will only take about 3 minutes. I told the other patrons to hold our seats, performed the sign of the cross for The Giants, and out the door my friend and I went.
Three minutes later, we arrived to see a glorious yellow NV200 (I’ll admit, it looked pretty cool from that initial impression, yet also a bit ominous sitting atop the delivery transport trailer) staring back at us in the dark wind and rain, about five feet above the ground. We also were instantly introduced to the two semi-irritated, seemingly over-it young Haitian transport drivers. These dudes looked to be in their mid to late 20s. Realizing that I’m 20 years older than youngsters that age is always strange for me, since in my head and my heart, I’m still 25. Aging happens faster than you think.
Anyway, they not only had to work on Thanksgiving, but they also just drove a diesel Ram all the way to the bottom-most corner of NC from NYC for hours on end and had to hammer-call me six times to get an answer and were now preparing to unload a 375K mile taxi in the rain. I could see why they weren’t super jazzed at that moment. They seemed like nice enough dudes and I got the feeling that they assumed that I knew what I was doing per the line of other well-loved cars in my driveway. Let’s get this hoss unloaded!
Didn’t See That Coming…
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The Transport Dudes asked me to climb in the cab, atop the trailer ramps and to guide it down to the asphalt via the steering wheel. They said the key was in it and I’m pretty sure they followed up their request with “si vous plait,” which was very courteous and also pretty cool in my book. There’s usually/historically not a lot of Francophone languages being spoken at my Evil Wrenching Lair, but there has certainly been an increase after rescuing a Citroen 2CV last summer with Mercedes (which is now sitting in the driveway), so it was a refreshing curveball, linguistically. Plus, I’m sure the 2CV overheard it and felt right back at home in Levallois-Perret.
Climbing up the slick, wet ramps I hurriedly hopped in the cab and immediately regretted sitting in the driver’s seat: the driver’s window was down and 700 miles of highway rain, along with the current, local weather had soaked the seat. Not the best. I quickly turned the key to the “On” position only to be met with dead silence and a dark dashboard. Dammit, dead battery. This is rapidly getting less fun and more difficult.
Sticking my head out the already-open window, I shouted back to The Transport Dudes at the base of the ramps, asking them 1) how the hell they got the cab all the way up the trailer ramps with a dead battery (“We lifted it with a forklift, mon ami!”) and 2) if I should just shift into Neutral and use the Armstrong Steering (get it?) to pilot our poor Nissan down from its perch up in the air, back down to Earth.
“Sure, whatever you think is best!”
Into Neutral it went, and my eyes instinctively went to the rear-view mirror. Only that view from the mirror was of my neighbor’s roof since the cab was so elevated. I’d have to Ace Ventura my head out the already-open window in the rain and see-saw the wheel without power steering and stomp the non-powered brakes to guide it down the ramp. I got this. If I start veering, I’m sure The Transport Dudes would say something. The backward speed increased from a barely perceptible motion into a full-fledged wrong-way roller-coaster. “The brakes aren’t really doing much to reduce the speed…am I still on the right track? The Dudes haven’t said anything…”.
Two seconds and 14 feet later:
Crraaaccckkk!
The cab veered off the ramp and was now immobilized with the rocker resting on the ramp and with the rear axle about six inches off the ground. “Why didn’t you guys say anything?!” said a very frustrated and pissed-off SWG. This question was met with a blank look and silence. I realized that I would have to take the reins here myself as The Transport Dudes were seemingly looking to drop this thing off with minimal effort involved, get out of the rain, get paid, and move on with their lives.
In retrospect, I wish Matt had gone with Copart’s preferred shipping vendor…
Ok, Now What?!
I needed a solution and I needed one fast. Not only was this whole charade in the middle of my street, blocking traffic, but I was also missing the Giants game, haggis, and not really wanting to be in the rain in NYC Cab Trailer Removal Logistics Mode on Thanksgiving!
I told Transport Dude #1 to hop in the Ram and to goose the whole rig forward in a jerky, halting manner to attempt to get the cab to slide back, off the ramp and to hopefully catch and hold one of the rear wheels (I had just placed the E-Brake on). I figured that if the rear wheel caught, we could pull the ramp trailer out from under it, rug-style.
Of course, that idea didn’t work.
Now keep in mind that at this moment, The Transport Dudes are playing on their phones in the cab of the Ram, Matt is texting me, apologizing for ruining my Thanksgiving and asking how he can help, my friend is sitting in the Durango, staying out of the rain, yet also looking really concerned and also quite bored on her Thanksgiving and I’m standing in the middle of the road trying to think of approach plan #2 to get this cab off these ramps.
My mind then goes towards my 2004 Nissan Titan King Cab that I picked up a year prior for $1200 with a bad 5th gear and a forklift impalement through the left-front door. I recalled that it has front tow hooks, which would work perfectly to pull The Autopian’s cab down to earth! It was street-parked a block away (I have an intricate system to legally park my fleet), so I informed the already-checked-out Transport Dudes that I was walking to get a solution as they scrolled through their TikTok feeds. “Ca va!” was their reply.
Five minutes later and without any drama or real effort on the truck’s part whatsoever, the NV200 was back on the ground, dead and in the middle of a public road. I simply hooked a tow line from the front tow hooks on the Titan to the rear frame tow hook hole on the NV200, placed the truck in reverse, and down it came!
I was super proud of my Titan to swoop in and save the moment, save our little forlorn yellow buddy, and save my Turkey Day. It’s not very often that you hear much praise for the American-built and designed, quasi market-failure, derivative, also-ran Nissan full-size pickup. When compared to the sales figures of its peers, you can see why it had its sad ending in the market. Nissan targeted a 5% market share for the Titan (which is 100K units) and never beat its first-year sales of 86K (just a 4.3% share). Nonetheless, my 20-year-old $1200 truck was there in a moment of semi-crisis; thank you Titan. I’ll hopefully be able to tell you about my very-involved Titan rescue in a future article, later this year.
I ran over to my idling Durango and asked my friend to hop out and to jump in the cab; she instantly sprung into action to help. I ran into my backyard storage shed quickly and grabbed a loose tire (I have a few from past/current projects) and ran up to the Ram cab to ask one of The Transport Dudes to get off TikTok and to help us by holding the tire at the rear bumper of the NV200. He obliged.
Again the Titan barely even exerted what seemed to be any additional force, effort, or energy whatsoever to move its little yellow square brother/cousin (one ocean removed) into the driveway right behind the Citroen 2CV. It really was remarkable how much power that big 5.6 V8 makes and how it tossed that smaller FWD chassis forward like a rag doll. The loose rubber tire placed in between the mismatched bumpers prevents even the faintest of scuffs.
I high-fived my friend and noted that she can now officially state, in total honestly, that she had driven a NYC cab (about 30 ft into my driveway), and that not many on this planet (relatively speaking) can make the same claim. The Transport Dudes peaced out quickly with an “au revoir!” on the way to their next towing adventure, my friend and I jumped back in The Worlds Best $400 Durango and headed back to the restaurant and catch the second half of the game. Thanksgiving Autopian Cab Task: Complete.
[Ed note: I’m starting to realize that friendship with me comes with a lot of hassle. I should work on that. -MH]
To Be Continued…
More SWG below.
- How I Saved A Once-$90,000 Mercedes SL I Bought For $1,900
- Why The Dirt-Cheap Broken Jaguar X-Type For Sale In Every Town Might Actually Be Worth Buying And Fixing
- I Bought A 29-Year Old Buick With 68,000 Miles On It To Prove The Haters Wrong
- What I Learned Restoring A $600 Dodge Ram With A Burned Up Transmission And Ruined Interior
- How I Bought A Broken Version Of My Dream Car For $300, Then Nursed It Back To Glory And Let It Free
- Proof That A $700 Car Saved From The Junkyard Can Make Someone As Happy As A New Lambo Can
- How I Saved My Buddys’ SUV After It Died At The Most Embarrassing Possible Time
- How Rescuing A 22-Year-Old Jeep Almost Killed Me Multiple Times
SWG always delivers. Well in this case the two Haitian guys did lol. Awesome article.
How does SWG always pull off a win? This story sure started out as; I fell out of the bad decisions tree, and hit every branch on the way down.
Glad you’re back and just the type of article I was hoping to read (especially with a “to be continued” ending). I know no one asked me but I think those Titans are decent trucks in the “well” used market. They seem to be priced below comparable units from the “Big 3” and probably at least as reliable. Looking forward to the next installment.
I know that pub. We have been coming down to the Wilmington area a couple times a year for the last 3 years or so. Love the place.
Gossin! Gossin! Welcome back!
Forget engine swaps restorations or things like that, what “I” would love to see is to have a forensic analyst go over the vehicle and see how many unique and exciting things they find swabbing the cab down. With that many miles on the odometer it probably has of a lot of “history” in between the seats and in the carpets!