Sorry for writing another personal entry instead of continuing my language learning series and reviews, but it was another crappy day that would make an interesting story.
When my dad passed away, I wound up with his 2001 Ford Ranger, seeing as how I had no vehicle of my own at the time. Having little money but decent mechanical skills, he babied that thing like no one else could. As he often said, “I have no money for another truck, so this one has to last me the rest of my life!”
Of course, no one had any idea that a heart attack would take him at the age of 56. Still, for all those years he put more work into keeping that truck running than most people ever would. It’s filled with parts scavenged from the dump and had the best insurance he could afford, ironically.
Unfortunately, the truck was obviously standing on its last legs – erm, wheels – by the time it came to me. The engine light came on and never went off, the bottom was so rusted out, the shock absorbers busted through the truck bed on one side, although both sides were broken; the paint on the driver’s side door flaked off more and more with each passing Minnesota winter, the brakes failed at one point due to the exhaust pipe coming loose from the clothes hanger that was holding it in place and melted through the brake line – the entire thing was one problem after another.
My father and I shared certain mechanical abilities, but I didn’t have the time and money to keep fixing everything that went wrong. It was only a matter of time before a problem arose that I couldn’t fix and couldn’t afford to have fixed for me. I thought it was going to be the axles degrading too badly from rust or the other shock absorber breaking through the failing truck bed, but it came from the most unlikely of places.
For anyone who missed my earlier article, we suffered a house fire at my house a few weeks ago. The restoration company had a dumpster and storage container brought in, but my mom, unused to it being parked in the driveway, backed up into it. Luckily, she has good insurance (way better than the liability I put in my late father’s truck) and they agreed to take care of it.
My brother decided to take it in this morning for her and I would follow in the truck to give him a ride back. We picked up our mom’s Honda and started on the long stretch of highway that took us to the next town, about 20 minutes away.
The Honda is in much better shape (maybe because it’s also much newer), and one of the many problems faced by the truck is the inability to gain speed quickly, so my brother was far ahead of me within moments.
Stuck several cars behind him, I made it to the speed limit and turned the cruise control on, riding smoothly as the radio prattled on about a murder case in one of the Dakotas.
My thoughts turned toward finding a gas station on our way back when suddenly the truck stopped maintaining its speed, the needle falling from 60mph to 50 and then 40. Hitting the gas did nothing – the peddle was loose like there was no pressure behind it. Just as I thought maybe I’d completely run out of the gas, despite the gas light not coming on, it started back up, regaining speed.
Cautiously, hoping it was a fluke despite my gut warning, I pressed “resume” on the cruise control and continued on. In about another minute, it cut out again. A few moments dead, then rearing back with life. It rattled, as it often did when accelerating, but the acceleration wouldn’t last.
I pulled off to the side and tried shutting the truck off and restarting. It gave me no trouble, but my success was short-lived. Before long, the accelerator quit entirely. The gas light came on, the oil gauge went nuts, and the batter light also lit up.
I tried everything to try and eek the truck along into town. It wasn’t far, about a mile only, but I knew I was stranded.
Stranded without a phone, at that.
After becoming stuffed with corrosive ash as I had tried to force my way up the stairwell, it finally gave out a week ago. A new phone was due to arrive, but for now, I was on the side of the road with no way to call for help. It felt like being in a horror film from my youth, trapped on the side of the road in the morning fog. My brother hadn’t even seen it and was happily speeding along to the body shop.
Despite being due for hip surgery (labral tear, possibly due to deformity), I started down the road. I walked for nearly thirty minutes before I found a business. Actually, I’d found one a few minutes from where my truck sat, unmoving, but it wasn’t open so early. This business was the first open one I’d found.
They were kind of enough to let me borrow a phone, so I called my mom and told her what happened. She had no words, but one of the employees offered me a ride to the body shop, so at least my brother and I would be in the same spot if we could get ahold of someone for a ride.
Not only did she give me a ride, but she also gave me a number I could call for a tow. The body shop owner's wife kindly gave my brother and me a ride back to boot.
In the end, my truck made it back to my driveway at least! It had to sit there for a few hours, but it made it home in the end. Hopefully, the bad luck that has trailed me since the fire is done wafting my way and has dissipated. They say it comes in threes, right? Maybe that was three!
I believe the problem lies with the fuel pump, but I suppose it could be a number of things. It’s probably time to look for another beater, but if anyone has any other ideas, please sound off in the comments!
Keep safe!