I was driving through Nebraska along Interstate 84. I was writing some poetry. Red Rocket starts to chug and lose power. I push down on the accelerator. Unfortunately I didn't have any Chief Engineer name Scotty to tell me 'I just can't do it Captain, I don't have the power'. Feeling silly driving so slow on an interstate highway I decided to pull over. That and the steam coming from my hood. I open up the hood and am met with a geyser of steam angry and hot coming somewhere from my engine.
Fuck. Fuck. And Fuck.
That steam was a spanner in the works of my well laid plans. I let it cool down and drive to the rest area only 1 mile away. For those in Australia - not very far. After parking I patch together my meagre knowledge of engines to form a shabby tapestry from which I use to guide myself to the cause of the said geyser. I'm mostly clueless. Friendly and curious strangers pass - mostly elderly, mechanically minded gentlemen. They give me hints as to the cause. Shabby tapestry starts to feel as if the stitching could handle being pulled by virile grandma's.
A trucker stops by to discuss Burning Man with me. We discuss and I, selfishly, guide the conversation to my mechanica dilemma. We discuss, examine, discuss, examine some more, let the car run, discuss, and examine. No certain outcome. I can hear the tapestry slowly tearing from the strength of the grannies. Oh sigh. Steam starts to obnoxiously exit from whatever hole is hidden to us. Using the radio antenna from Red Rocket I start to ask where The Trucker is pointing to with his finger; the area from which he thinks the steam is exiting. Accidentally I touch a hose. The steam stops slightly.
THE STEAM STOPS SLIGHTLY!! HORAAH!
Happy dancing is in order. I turn the car off and examine the hose I was pointing to. There is a massive eruption coming from the start of the hose, the rim like that of a geyser. How to patch? Black tape? Glue? Bicycle tire repair kit? We choose the repair kit and poxy glue. As we let it cool down the trucker tells me he is hauling cracker biscuts across two states for 250 a day at 11hrs each day. He use to operate a charter fishing business near Black Rock desert with his Native American Indian girlfriend. He wanted to be a taxi driver in Reno because it sounded very interesting to him. But the wait for such was three months. He had been driving trucks for 20 years and is bored of it. The car calls. We get back to work.
Before we start the patch a local elderly man who is mechanically minded offers his assistance. He gives me some Schneider tape. Known by those in the know as "100 mph tape" because it is used to tape anything and everything. It's reputation for durable has even slipped into The Trucker's community. He gives it high praise. Awesome I think. Let's try this. Quicker. We all work together to wrap the tape on. The local guy gives me the address for an auto parts store that closes at 9pm. It is 7:30pm. I can make it there.
I give The Trucker some wine I won't drink and head off to the auto parts shop, carefully watching the temperature gauge. 1/4 way up. 1/2 way up. This is normal. Everything is good. I will make it. Yay! Just over 1/2 up. 3/4 way up. This is not normal. I will not make it. I had driven only less than 5 mins. Nearly all the way up. I pull over and open the hood. Steam and I met again. Not a happy meeting. It is steam being obnoxious and I still want to be rid of it. Once the steam dissipates I see it the whole through which it bust through. There is a hole in the tape strikingly similar to the hole in the reputation of the "100 mph tape". Disappointment and frustration washing over me.
But wait. I harken back to one of my childhood hero's and ask myself: "What would McGuyver do??". I rummage through Red Rocket and find the strap for my water bottle holder. For reinforcement I wrap it around the tape and hose. Hesitant, I continue the drive forward. On the roadside I leave behind the hope for a repair tonight. The auto parts place is closed. Driving is still stop/start, but the McGuyver fix seems to work. After small confusion as to the direction of the closest gas station I make it there. Disappointed, slightly annoyed, and frustrated. I have to wait till next morning to purchase the hose.
The next morning I make it to the auto parts store. After still more stopping/starting. Removing the hose is difficult, time consuming, and tedious. Clouds part and the light shines down upon me as I feel the joy of removing the old hose. The attendant gives me a new hose for free. My first attempt to apply the hose is ridiculous. I ask for a second hose, giving him the first one to him cut up and mangled. The second is successful. YAY! I fill with coolant and drive around. It starts to overheat again.
NO. FUCK. SHIT. NO.
I stop into a mechanic. He can't see it till tomorrow. F that, I want outta this town today. Now preferrably. He suggests a coolant flush. The colour of the coolant - rust colour - is 'probably half the problem right there'. I head back to the autoparts shop and ask for a coolant flush product. The asthmatic sounding, obese, but jolly and helpful attendant directs me to "Lincoln Lube". I smile to myself. I can't help but think about something deviously sexual being done to Abraham Lincoln. I arrive at "L Lube" and Red Rocket is inspected. Some confusion, however, the helpful and friendly attendants think I just needed to put the coolant directly into the radiator. Not the reserve tank. They fill the radiator and suggest I test that solution.
I; feeling downtrodden, disapppointed, and 'out-of-options', do such. Like an eagle I watch the temperature gauge: less than a 1/4. Drive more. Less than a 1/4. Drive more. Less than a 1/4. It stays on that for more than 20 mins. YAY! YAY! Happy dance in order if I wasn't in the car. I'm confident all is well and Red Rocket blast towards the interstate to continue the journey.
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