Cadillac Flambé Redux
My Life Is An Endless Cycle Of Suckularity
Last night I got stranded for the second time due to pyrotechnics emanating from the engine room of the Caddy. The little fiddly bits of the A/C compressor that had been merrily freewheeling along as I baked in the no longer air-conditioned interior decided they didn't want to play nice anyore. So, they commenced to get themselves out of kilter, flagellating themselves against each other and any other engine part they could reach, all the while making sounds like peacocks wearing chainmail being massaged by a stumpgrinder.
No flames this time, just gigantimous sparks arcing all over the place. Looked kinda like the time I got bored playing with a Zippo lighter and ran the striker wheel down the leg of my jeans, making a huge trail of sparks. I was close to the Chevron gas station at Beltway 8 & Memorial Drive, so I was able to get in off the road before calling AAA for a tow back to the casa, which was only about 2 miles away.
The mechanic's taking a look at it now. He seems to think he can torch or grind the offending bits off of the compressor, so they won't be gyrating. He also wants to replace the uni-belt. Still no A/C in the near future.
The wrecker driver was a piece of work. Oh, he was friendly enough. Offloaded his girlfriend and his dog to wait at the gas station while he ran me home. He was extremely polite and efficient, and was not only there by the promised time, but got me home and the car offloaded in near-record time.
He was also tweaked to the gills. Probably enough methamphetamine in his system to power Cleveland for a week. He chattered on a mile a minute (particularly about how he'd been working for 18 hours straight), had them crazy ol' speed eyes and the nervous twitches. Ditto for the girlfriend. The dog, however, seemed OK. More of a Valium type, I'm guessing.
He wanted me to call AAA and let them know if I was pleased by the service. While I wouldn't rat the guy out, neither do I feel the need to endorse his behavior. So, I tipped him ten bucks, and he can be content with that.
Sigh. I'm getting tired of owning cars that go all freaky and then explode. The Dodge pickup had the rear end go out... the VW GTi shredded itself annually, the old Chevy BelAir aka "Aunt Pearl" had an aneurysm, my sister wrecked my Ranchero and then she burned up the AMC Concorde. OK, I didn't really own the Concorde, but had to throw it in so people know that cars burning for no apparent reason are a family tradition. I'd list the 5 other cars from my past, but I'm already depressed.
Maybe I ought to start blegging to get a down payment on another car. Nah, that's even more depressing...
Last night I got stranded for the second time due to pyrotechnics emanating from the engine room of the Caddy. The little fiddly bits of the A/C compressor that had been merrily freewheeling along as I baked in the no longer air-conditioned interior decided they didn't want to play nice anyore. So, they commenced to get themselves out of kilter, flagellating themselves against each other and any other engine part they could reach, all the while making sounds like peacocks wearing chainmail being massaged by a stumpgrinder.
No flames this time, just gigantimous sparks arcing all over the place. Looked kinda like the time I got bored playing with a Zippo lighter and ran the striker wheel down the leg of my jeans, making a huge trail of sparks. I was close to the Chevron gas station at Beltway 8 & Memorial Drive, so I was able to get in off the road before calling AAA for a tow back to the casa, which was only about 2 miles away.
The mechanic's taking a look at it now. He seems to think he can torch or grind the offending bits off of the compressor, so they won't be gyrating. He also wants to replace the uni-belt. Still no A/C in the near future.
The wrecker driver was a piece of work. Oh, he was friendly enough. Offloaded his girlfriend and his dog to wait at the gas station while he ran me home. He was extremely polite and efficient, and was not only there by the promised time, but got me home and the car offloaded in near-record time.
He was also tweaked to the gills. Probably enough methamphetamine in his system to power Cleveland for a week. He chattered on a mile a minute (particularly about how he'd been working for 18 hours straight), had them crazy ol' speed eyes and the nervous twitches. Ditto for the girlfriend. The dog, however, seemed OK. More of a Valium type, I'm guessing.
He wanted me to call AAA and let them know if I was pleased by the service. While I wouldn't rat the guy out, neither do I feel the need to endorse his behavior. So, I tipped him ten bucks, and he can be content with that.
Sigh. I'm getting tired of owning cars that go all freaky and then explode. The Dodge pickup had the rear end go out... the VW GTi shredded itself annually, the old Chevy BelAir aka "Aunt Pearl" had an aneurysm, my sister wrecked my Ranchero and then she burned up the AMC Concorde. OK, I didn't really own the Concorde, but had to throw it in so people know that cars burning for no apparent reason are a family tradition. I'd list the 5 other cars from my past, but I'm already depressed.
Maybe I ought to start blegging to get a down payment on another car. Nah, that's even more depressing...
posted by El Capitan | 1:38 PM
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