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Had a front brake hose blow on my boss’ Camry while I was moving it at work. Scary feeling—but I am now quite good about preemptively replacing them 😉
Popped an upper radiator hose at 2am on the lonely road home from our weekly live music night. Having used up the last of my hose repair tape helping someone a few days before, and lacking even an empty coolant jug, I tied a couple Kroger bags around the break & backed those with a torn t-shirt while my gf helped our buddy finish his 40 so we would have a container with which to fetch water.
It took 4 or 5 stops and several hours to get home. Several of the stops were quite sketchy what with dogs barking and having to go through barbed wire fences to get to rivulets all the while waiting for a shotgun-toting farmer to confront us. We were dressed to dance to a Grateful Dead cover band and knew we weren’t exactly welcome out in the hinterlands at 3 or 4 am
Best: I had the power steering hose blow out when parallel parking in front of my house after coming back from a road trip. There was so much smoke from power steering fluid on hot exhaust, I thought my XJ was going die by fire right then and there. Thankfully it didn’t. And being right in front of my house meant I could take our new Jetta to the auto parts store for a new hose and have access to all my tools in the garage.
Worst: lost all lights on my 86 FJ600 around 10pm on the freeway with no safe places to exit or pull over.
Worst I broke down on a 1 way bridge in in an XKE, on a holiday weekend the tow truck that they sent was one of the old sling type ones and there was no way I was gonna let them try and pull the car with that. Ended up having to get a flatbed to back down the bridge and load the car backwards
Worst: Right in the middle of the intersection on a 2 lane highway to a popular lake. On Memorial day. In a semi truck, which ment I blocked the whole intersection and couldn’t just push it out of the way.
Best: in the shop, getting something minor fixed, and it started throwing DPF codes when I started it to pull out of the shop.
Once drove with my wife to drop off her E46 wagon at the BMW indie shop. After we had dropped off the keys, we got into my E39 (540i/6) which then decided it wasn’t going to run properly and turned on all kinds of lights. We would have left it for the shop to fix and just driven the wagon home, but we couldn’t get the key back out of the drop box. Luckily I was able to call my parents and have them come pick us up and loan us a car while both cars got some service.
The one time I ever had an issue while towing my RV was down in Homestead, FL. My F-350 tow vehicle picked up a big metal stake in the sidewall. I actually heard the air escaping before the tire pressure monitor told me I was losing a tire. I was able to immediately pull over onto a long, wide, flat, curbless and clean concrete area right along side the road so I could unhitch and get the tire changed. We were able to get into the RV to use the bathroom, and then even bought some fresh produce from the stand that was setup in the same area.
When we lived in Phoenix (Ahwatukee actually) we headed off to the hinterlands searching for ghost towns to photograph. Bear in mind that this was in an ’80 VW Vanagon (air cooled) Westfalia in the summer. Bombing along on some dirt road far from anything a muffler strap broke. Lacking anything to hold it up, a park ranger pulled over to assist. Lacking anything else, the ranger took the clothing off the freshly laundered dry cleaning hanger and I used that to tie up the muffler. Further along the journey, a rock was thrown up and broke the open wing-window on the driver side. Continuing along until we found a ranger station. I asked and they let me into their shop where I found a piece of masonite and enough tools to fabricate a replacement.
Best: in front of the house (more than once).
Worst: alternator/battery death on a busy highway with my daughter in a car seat in back.
Worst: I-81S at 8pm, 20 minutes from anywhere, the wheel bearing on my cattle trailer gave up and sent the whole hub careening off the road. After an emergency parts store run, I returned to the trailer only to find that the bearings I bought weren’t the right size. I put it all back together anyways and crawled the rest of the way down to NC. Replacement bearings failed .2 miles (at 2am) from the destination farm so the cow and I slept alongside the road.
Best: my ‘68 Dart blew a trans cooler line about a mile from my house.
Worst: On the ramp from I-94 to I-394 in Minneapolis. At morning rush hour. In the snow. In a Volare. I made the traffic report.
Best: Miraculously, the fuel pump in my wife’s old Ford Explorer called it quits in our garage.
I got a flat in my garage. Plugged it right then and there since I was late to work. Only slightly late after baptism by fire.
Got a flat right in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.
Oh no that’s a nightmare.
Back when I was in college, two of my pals and I drove a Dodge pickup (outfitted with a jury-rigged canvas “camper shell” and a 100 gallon auxiliary gas tank) from Phoenix to Cordova, Alaska. We were on the dirt road that was the Alaska highway back then, somewhere in the Canadian wilderness, almost exactly 50 miles from the nearest town behind us and 50 miles from the one ahead, when the truck just stopped running. We pulled over and scratched our heads for a bit, trying to figure out the problem. A car stopped that was packed with a bunch of guys with few teeth and who didn’t seem to speak English who were offering help (I’m pretty sure), but they scared the hell out of us and we just kind of smiled and did the “oh no, nothing going on here” routine until they rolled their eyes and left. A little while later, some other guy stopped who took a quick look at the truck, pulled a fuel line, and diagnosed a failed fuel pump. Apparently, whoever put the 100 gallon tank in hadn’t cleaned it out all that well. One of my pals hopped in his car and they took off for the town that was 50 miles ahead. He found a parts store that was technically closed but which opened after he spent the requisite time pounding on the door. He picked up a fuel pump and then found another ride back to the truck. We replaced the pump and were good to go the rest of the way. In a way, it was a great place to break down as, back then at least (and maybe still, for all I know), any vehicle that was stopped along that highway received immediate attention from anyone who thought they could help.
A month ago I bought a cheap project car. The previous owner had just installed a new battery, but unbeknownst to me, had also driven the vehicle 30-40 miles on the new battery. Now, that wouldn’t have been a problem, except the alternator had unknowingly died, which was why it needed a new battery, so my first drive in the car left me stranded on the side of the busiest road in town…during a period of road construction. I was able to coast half way to the turn lane, and then push the car the rest of the way into the turn lane. The number of times someone nearly ran into the car, despite the hazard lights being on and the hood being up, was absurd. I ended up getting a tow truck rather than risk my life wrenching on the side of that road.
I have five incredibly entertaining and true stories of my parents’ cars breaking down in inopportune situations or places.
First up, my parent’s 1990s Chevy Lumina minivan broke down on the Ambassador Bridge in Detroit–right at the point where the highway switches from concrete to the steel grid (as in, over the Detroit River). Oh, and we were pulling a Dutchman pop-up camper. Needless to say we didn’t make it to Canada. Had to get a tow and it was a whole ordeal.
Many years later the minivan was totaled when a driver going the other way on a Telegraph road in Monroe, MI (45-55 MPH) lost his front tire and it smashed into the front of the Lumina. Apparently, he had just done the brakes and forgot to tighten down the lugs. Ironically, if it wasn’t shaped like a dust buster, the tire likely would have probably have killed my father. Instead it bounced off the wedge shaped hood out of the way. The impact of the tire had so much force it broke the front axles.
Next, my dad was parked in a lot at school (he was a teacher) and the food service semi delivering the school lunches was backing into the lot and hit a power line. It was a hot day and the line was sagging from the heat. The driver didn’t notice and the line pulled down a pole and transformer, right onto my dad’s Ford Tempo. You can imagine the commotion this caused. They ended up sending all the kids home (it was a middle school and all the kids couldn’t focus after all the excitement).
After that, my dad bought a Nova to replace the Tempo. We’re talking the ’85-’88 FWD POS Novas . . . nothing cool. Anyway, my dad by this point was working as an administrator in the school district and was visiting one of the schools for the ‘problemed’ kids. During lunch, one of the kids who had drug & mental issues stole my dad’s Nova, and led the Monroe County Sheriff on a chase on I-75. It ended with my dad’s Nova in a creek via an overpass.
And finally, my parents a leased 1999 Durango to pull a camper that was around 20 feet long or so. My parents were taking our family of 5 to Disney (driving from Michigan) and the plan was to stay overnight in Tennessee or Kentucky at a KOA (whenever my dad got sick of driving). Somewhere in the Smokey Mountains, we started to smell a strong burning sulfur odor. My dad eventually pulled over, only to find the rear end of the Durango was visibly hot (smoking). We’re in the middle of no where, and when my dad attempted to pull into a better location to park and call AAA, the rear wheels were locked up and we went no where. Apparently the rear diff. gears gave out completely. We got towed (camper and all) to a Dodge dealer, who said the rear end was toast and a new one was a week out. We ended up renting a red Jeep Liberty and drove the rest of the way to Florida and stayed in hotels/motels.
But the kicker . . . we picked up the Durango and it made the trip back to MI without issue–until we got back to our house. While parked in the street and still hooked up to the camper, the entire front of the Durango went up in flames. Apparently the mechanic didn’t tighten the fuel lines properly, and when we stopped it blew off and sprayed gas onto the hot exhaust manifolds. It burned to the ground, but the camper was spared. I still recall my dad and neighbors sprinting to try to get a hose to put it out and the hose not reaching the street.
I’ll dig up the photos and see if I can upload them later tonight . . . We had quite the luck with cars and campers over the years.
Hope your parents were able to get some insurance settlements for those cars!
Oh, this is timely. Just went through this yesterday!
Long story short, the alternator died and the car was running on battery. It ran out of juice right as I was coming up on an exit I knew well. Got the car off the expressway just in time for it to die completely in front of a very nice house on a quiet street. The neighbors were chill after I explained the predicament. My SO came out and we charged the battery using jumper cables. I then made it almost home. Only the last half mile needed to be pushed after coasting for a mile. Yay manuals! Swapped the alternator in 45 minutes once the car finally got into the garage.
Wow. So out of curiosity, how long does a battery last under a dead alternator condition like that?
About 70 minutes with everything non-essential turned off. A little longer once the car turns on “battery saver” that disables literally everything except the propulsion systems. Modern cars are power-hungry.
I feel this is exactly the kind of information that’ll come in real handy one day, and I will absolutely remember where I got it. “We have less than an hour left. AND UNPLUG YOUR PHONE DAMNIT!”
Thank you (and glad to hear she’s fixed now)!!
Ditto! And, not that horrible of a breakdown in the grand scheme.
It depends. If you have your headlights and radio going, not long at all. If you turn everything off, I’ve been able to drive about 20-30 miles in my EFI cars(92 Accord and 89 Comanche were both in that range).
A carbureted car will use less power since it uses power only for the ignition and not fuel system, and a mechanical diesel uses almost no power. If you have a mechanical diesel, you can drive for a very long time with no alternator.
Similar story happened to me last year. I got a check light for charging and knew my alternator was out. But I was already 10 minutes into the 30 minute drive home, so I took a chance I could get home on just the battery. I watched the voltage slowly decrease from 12.4 to 9.something but was able to drive it home!
My GT6 developed an engine knock (shocking, I know). The location of this breakdown was pretty good. About 1/4 mile form my house. The timing, however, could not have been worse. Right after I got furloughed during the pandemic.
I made the best of it, though. No money, but all the time in the world. The deepest I had ever gone into an engine was replacing a head gasket on an MR2. And that didn’t go so well. So I spent the summer tearing the engine down, learning, learning, and more learning, and putting together a bill of material for the rebuild. By fall I was back to work and by spring I had a fully rebuilt engine that I can be proud of. It’s still running like a top today.
I once ran out of gas right in front of a gas station. All they carried was Turbo Blue.
This was 1990 or so, and I had no idea what it was except that it was racing gas. I was warned not to put it in my car, so I put in just enough to get to the regular gas station a few miles down the road and filled up there.
Years ago I ran out of gas 3 miles gently uphill from a gas station. Coasted down there and stopped within hose distance of the pump. Manual transmission saves the day!
Win!
I-96 during a fantastically strong snow storm. My car didn’t actually break down, which is saying something for a 30 year old Mercedes 190 that was in the process of having all its rubber seals disintegrate. But the windshield wiper blade had gotten such a work out that it snapped off while I driving. And the snow was so bad it was accumulating on the windshield faster than it would blow off. So, I got off at the first exit I could while I could still see, and the only thing I could see in my rabidly disappearing range of vision was a Cracker Barrell. I spent 4 hours sipping cocoa in front of the fireplace, reading and playing checkers with the super bored waitstaff. A lovely time.
The snow eventually let up somewhat, and I discovered I was less than a mile from a Meijers. (this was before smart phones) Alas I was a poor college student who had spent all my money at the Cracker Barrell, so instead I wrapped a bunch of my socks around the wiper, they did the job until I got home.
Your punchline is priceless. Holy shit ROFL.
I blew a motor in my old truck about 55 miles into an 85 mile commute to work out of town for a few days. The small town of Charlotte, MI didn’t really have much in the way of Uber at the time so it took over 3 hours to get picked up, and over $50.00. Luckily, my Dad had a trailer so my parents got to drive an hour and a half from their house and drop off a spare vehicle and haul my broken truck back. Good Times by all…
Not car related, but I will never forget getting a flat tire in the middle of the naked bike ride many years ago. I went from being one of 10,000 participants riding in a large group to just a naked guy on the side of the road with a broken bicycle. Got a lot of looks as I quickly tried to patch and inflate the tire!
shut it down, this is the only comment.
The image of a naked dude operating a manual air pump will haunt my nightmares from now until the end of time.
You just had to go there…
I’m not gonna sit here and suffer alone.
Suffer? I found the mental image hilarious and, due to my predilections, quite titillating.
Yeah, this wins the internet today.
Tell me you live in Portland without telling me you live in Portland.
“I’m not a pervert officer, I swear! There were thousands of us here 10 minutes ago!”
Best place? That’s always at home. Worse place? 2 am 2 miles from home in a blizzard with 2 feet of snow. Sitting on top of a 6 foot snowbank, having to walk home to get shovels.
My wife drives a wheelchair van, which has a “kneel” function that lowers the rear suspension so that the ramp angle is less steep. In case it ever malfunctions, there’s a pair of switches below the rear seat that allows the kneel system to be operated manually or to be locked out in case of a malfunction. So far, so good, right? Well, one day in a Home Depot parking lot, the lockout switch simply fell apart. While the ramp was down and the rear suspension was lowered.
Somehow, in their infinite wisdom, the engineers decided to route all power control through the lockout switch. So now, with the switch physically broken, no power went through it and the van couldn’t be driven with the rear suspension lowered and locked by the kneel mechanism.
Of course, this was a Home Depot parking lot — where I can buy wiring and terminals and wire cutters. So a quick search on the internet with my phone tuned up the wiring diagram. Then it was inside to get some supplies, and a short while later the switch was bypassed and a set of jumpers were created and neatly plugged into the control motherboard. The van was once again happy and drove home.
I never did bother to replace the switch, which had a harder-to-find terminal configuration and was expensive. Instead, the jumpers live on and there are tidy labels directing anyone to access the control board if the bypass is needed, and inside the compartment, the configurations are neatly labeled. The specialty shops that service the van’s special systems don’t even blink; they figure another shop did it because of the scarce switch.
I remember early on in Scouts the leaders telling me that previous parents would drop their kids off then go get hammered at the bar up the street, and they frowned upon this behavior. I have since always waited until after pickup before said beer(s).
tldr; tisk tisk
Worst place: Rt 78 connector going into Westerly Rhode Island on my way to work? But, I just ripped the muffler completely off then went on my merry way.
My dad broke down in the Holland Tunnel in the 80’s. He said that was a fun experience. /s
Ugh, Matt, my 530i had the same oil pressure song and dance going on. It happened for the first time during my test drive; the car was cheap enough that I went ahead and bought it anyway. No oil consumption issues. I replaced the sensor, replaced the oil with 0W40, even redid the VANOS seals. Finally overcame my fear of simple diagnostic work, hooked up an oil pressure gauge, and the pressure was absolutely fine. So, probably the wiring to the sensor is a little crunchy, or maybe the contacts on the plug are dirty. In any case, the sensor isn’t plugged in anymore, and I have no more warning lights. But thanks for the PTSD with the header image, and hope your problem is similarly simple!
Inside a tunnel. A former housemate of mine decided on a whim to buy a Corvair. The things was a real piece of shit and even though I warned him about its condition he bought it anyway. Turns out the alternator wasn’t working. And so the owner had charged up the battery. The car was 30 miles away. Well, I decided to follow him home driving his 90’s era Mercury Sable wagon. We ALMOST made it back. And then we go to the tunnel that leads into the town we lived in. The battery gave up the ghost and the car died. There was nowhere to pull over. So… I pushed him through the tunnel with the wagon, which totally fucked up the plastic cover of said bumper. People were pretty angry and honking their horns and yelling at us which added to the nerve-racking experience.
My engine died on the Horace Wilkinson Bridge on I-10, crossing the Mississippi River in Baton Rouge on my way to New Orleans. During Friday evening rush hour traffic. Fortunately, it was just a blown vacuum hose, so the engine restarted easily, and I was able to start-drive a few car lengths-stop (engine dies)-start-drive a few car lengths-stop (engine dies)-repeat until I can get over the river, off the highway, and on onto a side street. Got it fixed in an hour at a gas station garage next to the LSU campus, so we still managed to get to Burbon Street by sunset.
In June of 2001 I bought a 1979 Pontiac Trans Am from a friend of mine. This wouldn’t make for a good story except that he lived in Bremerton, WA and I lived in Saratoga Springs, NY.
Being the adventurous type that I fancied myself to be, I didn’t see this as a problem. I would just fly out, visit with my mother, who lived nearby, and drive home with a slight detour to visit some family in Henagar, AL. It was just a 3660 mile trip. What could possibly go wrong?
Did I mention that the TA hadn’t been driven in about 10 months?
Amazingly enough, the first two days were uneventful. Midnight on the third night; however, found me in a gas station in East St. Louis with a 22 year old car that refused to start. Wouldn’t even try.
No problem; I was prepared for any eventuality. I had my trusty $12 Wal-Mart toolkit. After about 4 hours on my back in this gas station parking lot (all five hotels within walking distance were full!), I had discovered that the starter would work sometimes(!) after taking it off and spinning it by hand. I put it back together, crossed my fingers, said a little prayer, and it started right up