I saw this yesterday. Talking with the driver, he had just let a customer out of the car in front of the door; backing up to the curb is when this happened. He was very thankful he had been alone and traveling at a low speed.
To make matters worse for him, this was directly in front of Union Station in Kansas City – not exactly a low volume area with the trains, mail distribution center, museums, and related pedestrian traffic.
As my mind wandered, it formulated a question: What was your most embarrassing breakdown? For me, it was when the gas tank fell off my ’63 Ford Galaxie near the house of this girl I was rather sweet on at the time, although I did chronicle another one earlier today.
What was your most embarrassing breakdown?
Mine was also with a Crown Victoria.
I bought a 900 dollar 2001 Crown Victoria P71, black on black, barely any exhaust left, nearly 300k miles, and with the rust & patina, it was a very menacing looking car ( and fast.)
It was reliable as the sun, until me & few friends decided to load it up & head to concert out in Tennessee (from NJ). Got about as far as PA until the engine decided it had enough & blew in spectacular proportion.
It was DOA. Sold it to a kid a few days later as a demo derby car.
Our police chiefs Crown Vic ended up the same way as the taxi did in his driveway at home. Im guessing this might be a common problem.
92 Honda Prelude – the infamous Honda fuel injection relay/module that is under the dash. Got flaky when it gets hot. After a while the car would run but wouldn’t idle so would have to shift into neutral and feather the gas at lights and such. Thought it was idle motor/throttle body got used ones from junkyard no help, junkyard computer, even considered replacing the fuel pump. Sometimes if you didn’t want to wait you could start it with ether. Eventually one day it died in the middle of the road, called tow truck. After about 20 minutes or so he got there explained the problem tried the key for the hell of it and it started up. Quite embarrassing that the car run fine after that. Lived with that grief for almost 6 months until we tried the relay and it fixed the problem. Whomever invented that setup needs to walk off a plank.
He must have walked the plank, Honda went for reliability after that debacle just a pity they didnt discover galvanising like other Japanese manufacturers.
This is funny, because the same exact thing happened to me in a cab. It was in San Diego, in 1976, and I was driving the oldest car in the Yellow Cab fleet, a 1970 Biscayne six with Powerglide. It probably had close to a million miles on it, or at least felt like it. I drove this thing like a maniac, but one morning, just minutes after leaving the cab corral, someone stopped a bit quickly in front of me, and I tapped the (unassisted drum) brakes a bit harder than average, and the left front wheel snapped at one of the ball joints, in the middle of an intersection downtown. I was very glad it hadn’t happened at the 90 mph I had driven it the day before on I-5.
Wow, so gusty! 90MPH in a hoopty on I-5 nonetheless; wow! How did you not get busted by the fuzz!?
The same way everyone in CA back then did, if they wanted to avoid getting caught: keep an eye out for the CHP. There was no radar allowed on CA freeways until the nineties, so they had to physically tail you to see how fast you were going. One got very good at spotting them at great distances, and keeping an eye out for them at freeway intersections, where they would come swooping down the on-ramp, trying to pick off a speeder. A very different reality then today.
Ran out of gas just west of Albuquerque, and home, in a rental Sebring convertible. It was mid-July 1998, and the car was packed with all my worldly possessions I could load in it (while still being able to lower the top) after realizing in hindsight that moving to central California… with a woman of questionable character whom I’d known for six months… to sell Fords to farmers in the San Joaquin Valley grappling with bad crop yields… maybe wasn’t the smartest choice I could have made.
The walk back to the gas station I’d just passed a few miles back seemed daunting, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable leaving the car along I-40 with all of my stuff in it. Fortunately, a kindly gentleman (in a Crown Victoria!) stopped within minutes, and gave me a lift to the station to buy a gas can, and then took me back to the car. He wouldn’t take the money I offered.
It was an embarrassing experience, but also one that reaffirmed some of my faith in humanity at a time when I didn’t have much of that.
It seems that more of this story is waiting to be told…
Mine was courtesy of a ’91 Cadillac Deville Touring Sedan. While rounding a corner to enter a freeway on-ramp one day in a remote part of the state, the k-frame finally gave way and broke loose where it bolted to the unibody under the foot-wells on both sides. The motor & tranny dropped about 6 inches, suddenly separating the steering column. No noise or anything, the wheel just spun freely in my hands…. but the car straightened out and off the side of the road we went. Luckily there was no guardrail in that spot. Also, the brake lines pinched off when this happened, so i had to stand with both feet on the pedal to get ‘er to stop. That was the end of that car… she was immediately hauled off to the junkyard. Both mounting posts on the frame rails were completely rotted away. Just glad it didn’t happen at highway speed.
Not really a “breakdown” but a “stuck” situation…
1982 Chevy Celebrity, first car POS with over 100,000 on it when I got it. I was a new driver (1993) and the Celebrities biggest redeeming feature was lots of weight over the front wheels. Decided to go out after a high school basketball game and go “drift busting”.
Barreling down a township road breaking through fresh snowdrifts in a spectacular fashion. Snow flying over the hood, etc…
Suddenly the car pulls to the left and I get hung up on the side of the road in plowed snow. Had to walk to the nearest house with lights on and knock and sheepishly ask to call home. My father came out to rescue me with his (later mine) 1987 Cutlass. Despite posi trac and 307V8 he was unsuccessful in budging me by pushing on the 5mph bumpers of the Chevy.
After 30 min of digging and cussing another neighbor happened along and pulled me out with his nearly new Chevy 4×4. The Celebrity was given garage space to thaw and have lots of snow and ice from around the engine block fall onto the garage floor for the next few days.
I was treated to a whoopin’ to remind me that I wasn’t too big to discipline and not to be so dang stupid in the family car.
Yep, right in front of a frat house at Georgia Tech (with numerous witnesses). I attempted to do a burnout in my V6 Vega by revving up in neutral and dropping it in drive. The pinion gears in the rear axle instantly shattered, leaving me no option but to switch off and push it to the curb before walking away (tail between my legs) in search of a pay phone to call for my Uncle to bring a tow strap.
At least this didn’t happen to you!:
When my big hoopty Lincoln that I drove in law school, proudly in defiance of all acceptable standards of trendiness or professionalism, died on the highway offramp to school. I couldn’t get it to restart, and all the other students in their new BMW’s and Honda’s had to slowly drive on the shoulder around my heap stuck dead in the middle of the road, waiting for a tow truck.
Water pump on my 1969 Grand Prix on the second date with the girl. She somehow understood. Her dad helped me install it after taking me to a late night parts store. (Yes, Crazy Joe’s was open till 9 in 1977.)
I was thinking about selling my FIAT 124 Sport Spider. A classmate claimed he was thinking about buying it. It wasn’t registered at this point, so I kept if off major roads. My comfort zone for its use involved turning right onto a major road and then making a second right after only about 150 feet back into the relative safety of my neighborhood. With three people on board and the potential buyer driving, we made the first right followed by him ignoring my directions to make the next right, leading us directly into the center of town. The likelihood of this incompetent’s mistake being very expensive for me was great. Then he started complaining about the steering, saying it was pulling to the left and heavy. I didn’t even feel like taking the time to tell him it was due to the toe-out I was running for sharp turn-in and constant oversteer, but I may have. He pulled the car into a parking lot regularly patrolled by Albemarle Couty’s revenuers, and out we climbed.
The left front lower control arm had separated from the front cross member, looking very much like the cab above. I don’t recall how Can’t Take Directions and his friend got back to their car, but I left them in the lot and drove the car home with three wheels. The left front was folded under the driver’s floor and producing impressive amounts of acrid smoke through the footwell, but I managed to run with 55 mph traffic on a major highway and then drive it through the winding, hilly road back to my house. I think something else let go, as I would up driving backwards the last two blocks. My FIAT adventure had ended.
Turned right up a gravel lane next to an open lot and watched a wheel bouncing across said lot necminit Triumph Herald is nearly on its side Feck thats my wheel slide to stop, investigate, broken left stub axle, howls of laughter from the footpath, great day had by all except me
My horribly unreliable Sunbeam Rapier kept cutting out when hot and misfiring and refusing to rev.New points,coil,condenser,fuel pump cleaned the fuel lines new air filters and still no joy.It was the breather in the filler cap blocked by a bit of polish!That cured it however the sudden increase in power fried it’s auto box a few months later.
Not particularly embarrassing incidents, but certainly white knuckle moments, both courtesy of a ’78 Cadillac Coupe de Ville that I drove, to my everlasting chagrin, for a brief period in the very early 80’s. Driving along the freeway to work one morning, out of the blue, a huge bang in the engine compartment, instant loss of power steering. Nearing my regular exit, heart in my throat, I managed to haul this barge off the freeway to a local gas station that I traded with. Have you ever driven a car of this size and weight with no power steering? Driveable, but like trying to guide an out of control cement mixer. Turned out the air conditioning belt had snapped, and the wild flailing pieces cut through the power steering line from the pump, instantly spewing the entire reservoir of fluid all over the engine compartment. Every engine component was dripping in power steering fluid. A mess to clean up, and the smell of burning fluid permeated that car for weeks afterwards.
Same time period, driving along a curvy road, fortunately in a low traffic residential area, go to raise the driver’s window, only to have the entire piece of glass travel up out of the door and continue right out of its frame and fall inwards on my left shoulder. Frantically trying to steer the car with my right hand, and fighting off this unbelievably heavy and awkward piece of picture window-sized glass with my left arm, I managed to pull over and eventually get the window to retract partly down into the door, at least far enough so I could drive home and into the dealer the next day.
These were two of the worst incidents with that car, and there were many. So much for the Standard of the World. It was my own personal GM deadly sin (owning the thing, that is), and I never returned to a GM product after that.
Wheel fell off on Washington’s 11th Street Bridge. Mercury Cougar with 240,000+ miles. I found out the hard way that the horrible noise and vibration in my front end was caused by loose lug nuts on the front passenger-side wheel.
It was one of the few times I was glad to be stuck in gridlocked rush-hour traffic. I was going less than 10 mph when it happened, so the biggest injury was to my ego.
To my surprise I learned that the Metropolitan Police Department tows cars for free in circumstances like that. The MPD tow-truck driver, and older fellow who had been a patrolman in his younger years and had clearly seen it all, alighted from his truck, looked at me and said, “Why did you do that?” That made me laugh, which made me feel a little better about the whole situation.
It still didn’t want to give an honest explanation of why I was late for work.
My moment was in 1983. I was driving my nice 66 Cadillac convertible with the roof down, when it stalled out on a busy four lane near some construction with lane closures. As I coasted to a stop, I managed to get the car on to a closed lane. As I sat there with the roof down, some people were staring and laughing at me, some yelling at me. I’m sure the rudeness was in the minority of motorists, but it was embarrassing.
I put the roof up, and immediately felt more comfortable. After several minutes, the car started with no problems, and I continued on my way. My 66 had a tendency to stall out and then leak gas from the carb.
Although I own a Lebaron convertible, I can’t say I’m comfortable driving an open car. I like to lower the windows and drive hardtop style, though.
One more thing: There’s more to admire curbside than just the cars. From that photo, the Kansas City train station looks like a stunning building. The big palaces that the railroad companies built as terminals at their peak a century ago are classics in their own right.
You are quite correct on that; Union Station in KC is spectacular and looks like something out of a ’40’s movie on the inside. I’ve seen others that were equally or more impressive.
I was in KCY – Kansas City for those not in the know – Monday and it was impressive. I travel the rails a lot and the beautiful scenery both the buildings and the trip make the journey. It is such a great way to add value to your travels. It is usually a reasonable cost, our round trip tickets from Cleveland to Kansas City were about $250pp cheaper by about $75 than the airplane. Furthermore, the hotel was just a sky bridge walk across Pershing St (did not even have to go outside) and there was a Hertz car rental in the hotel making the who experience seamless.
Among other delights, there was a rather impressive model train display in one wing of Union Station seen below. Of course the granddaddy is Washington DC or New York Grand Central but this was fine. I hear Los Angeles is nice.
4th to 1st money shift.
Goodbye Quad4.
If there was a like button I would have hit it just now.
’68 Plymouth Fury. It was a $500 car (or $500 worth of spare parts with the car thrown in free, as the guy who sold it to me said) and had a couple of mechanical issues: it leaked transmission fluid rather prolifically, and as I discovered this time it had a small under-hood leak in the fuel line.
I was having some trouble with it running, and rolled into the parking lot for a job interview with about 2 minutes to spare. Parked right up front of the office in the visitors spot. I got out, straightened my tie, and headed for the front door. I glanced back at my car as I opened the door and saw a bit of smoke coming out from under the hood. I was running late and had already been spotted by the receptionist, so I decided it was probably just a bit of tranny fluid on the exhaust manifold. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
So I was greeted by my future boss, who took me to a conference room for the interview. There were 3 people in there already, so they sat me down across from them at the table and we started talking. And right behind them was a window. And right outside the window was my car.
So I sat there and answered questions for about an hour, while progressively more and more smoke started billowing out from under the hood of my car. And I occasionally saw what looked like flames behind the grille on the right side. I wasn’t positive about that, but it sure did look that way.
I *needed* this job. There was no way I was going to do anything that would keep me from getting it, and that included getting up and running out to put out the fire under the hood of my car. So I sat there and kept their attention, answering questions, talking about my experience and what a great employee I would be. And all the time smoke kept coming out from under the hood.
At long last, the interview ended and they told me I could start the following Monday. I was both relieved and scared to death. I had to get out of there and get my burning car out of the parking lot before they changed their minds. So I shook hands and said nice things and headed for the door as fast as I politely could.
Under the hood, I found that the fuel line had a small leak and was dripping on the exhaust manifold. it was a pretty steady drip, coming out downhill of a canister filter I had put in to solve some bad fuel issues. I grabbed some electrical tape from the glove box, and gave the line a few wraps to stop the flow. That stopped the fire, mostly.
Of course, the car wouldn’t start then. I probably flooded it in my panic to get out of there, but it simply did not want to start. So I put it in neutral and pushed it all the way out of the parking lot and to the street so I could work on it in a little less embarrassing place. After about 30 minutes of poking, I got it started and limped it home.
When i showed up for work the following Monday (wife dropped me off), the first thing they did was hand me a bag of cat litter, a broom, and a shovel and told me to go clean up the mess I made. The car had also managed to lose about half a quart of transmission fluid while it sat there burning.
The car went to a new home shortly after my first paycheck came in. Along with the $500 in parts.
77 Coming home from a Steve Miller concert at Capitol theater in Passaic in my 67 Firebird. . 2 guys, 3 girls none of us, including me has a clue how to change a flat tire… So I joined Them, When They all walked away, from the car broken down in a no parking zone. My dad took me back the next day and miraculously the car was still there.
Thats how our 79 Caprice Landau ended up as this Crown Vic … Me backing out of our driveway garage into the street. I was Using that car, because My own Was a goner.
So we went off to the Auction and bought a Celebrity for 1500.
I had an old ’88 Toyota Celica ST in college that was by far the most unreliable piece of garbage that I ever owned. On my way down to visit my parents one cold, rainy afternoon in February, I pulled off the interstate to make sure I’d put the oil cap back on after dumping a quart in at my last refueling stop (I did). This should have been a quick 30 second check, but then my car wouldn’t start……in the rain with 18 wheelers whizzing by at 70mph. The starter was shot. I found the only long, solid object I could find–my umbrella–and proceeded to bang on the starter just mere inches from certain death-by-tire. After becoming drenched, covered in grease, and nearly catching pneumonia on the side of the road, I got the thing started. On the way home, the throttle linkage became stuck and the car would continuously accelerate by itself (luckily it was a 5-speed). I passed people for the rest of the trip with my foot applied to the brake. At this point, I didn’t care if the engine grenaded or not. When I finally pulled into my parent’s driveway that night with the needle hovering just south of 6000 RPM, wet, dirty, and defeated, my brake rotors were literally glowing orange from the friction. I never thought I’d be happy getting the keys to my dad’s old ’91 Tempo to drive back up to school, but being invisible to college girls in my car was a lot better than being humiliated and/or dead.
Having trunk lid of my clapped out BMW e28 hit me on the head in front of my girlfriend’s house in the tony little suburb of Los Gatos, CA as I try to unjam the trunk hinge and torsion springs.
–Ed
OP! How the hell does a gasoline tank fall off a car? I’m scratching my head as this is the very first time I have ever heard of this!!!
Well, I can top your story. I had my very first used car, a $700.00 dollar 1984 Plymouth Reliant I bought with my savings in 1991, what an oxymoron that car was! Reliant! Bullcrap! As it was my first car ever the danged Mikuni carburetor died, then the transmission and then the Mitsubishi 2.6 liter engine died before I was stupid enough to fix all that, It was a literal money pit! Well, After fixing all those little issues and getting new tires the main electric harness had a short in Downtown LA during rush-hour traffic. The engine compartment burned to a crisp.
That was damned embarrassing. And more embarrassing that I had to sell this piece of crap to a junk yard for $50.00 after having wasted over $5,000 on it! hell one new tire was the price I got back for selling the damned car!
I have sworn off Chrysler cars forever after this! I got a bad taste for them.
Here’s one way. Only one of my straps broke and I gingerly drove it the six miles back home.
http://www.foxnews.com/leisure/2011/08/02/gas-tank-defect-forces-ford-to-recall-11-million-pickup-trucks/
Both straps broke on mine. I was going slow and heard a bang. I got out and there it was on the ground. Ironically, the car was still running as the tank was sitting there.
Someone stole my bike. New rear wheel when I got it back. One with no cotter key and castle nut for the rear axle. At speed on a dirt road it slipped out and the wheel lodged against the fender and frame. I thought I was lucky to be alive because it was wound out badly when it happened. Oh Well… next time I will insist on exact replacement parts.
Btw. Daughter with a town car had the same thing as the opening picture. Happened at an intersection and she sold it to the tow truck driver. I would have been happy to buy it because there were lots of miles left in it. Lack of maintenance killed that car.
1981-3-ish… My father’s Crown Vic company car was in for service, and he had as a loaner from the company pool fleet a new Reliant K-car with the then new Mitsubishi 2.6 or 2.7 V-6.
My older sister was dating an engineer from Chrysler at the time.
Chrysler had an open house at their Chelsea, Mi, proving grounds … To gain entry, you had to have an employee put your name on the list and show up in a Chrysler vehicle … once in, one could drive anywhere, even fast on the high-speed oval!
My parents were out of town for the weekend, and the other couple drove… My dad agreed to let me have the car and to take it to the proving ground with the promise that I would be responsible with it.
To my 19 year-old self, I thought jackpot! All stars aligned!
I picked up a buddy who was studying at UofMich on the way out from suburban Detroit to Chelsea…
We drove all over the place, made max-speed runs on the straights and the big oval… When that wore off, and we had our fill, we went on to the handling roads … There were many with names like North or South Tortuous Road… We drove up the big hill where brakes and parking brakes were tested … Going down was like being in a roller coaster … Finally we were going to head back to take the garage tour and see the crash and environmental test facilities ….
I was driving, and on a road that was either smooth concrete or black-top … With banked curves … I was cruising at maybe 70 mph, then crested a hill and the road surface changed to a series of potholed undulations!
Wham, no better put WHAM,!!!, crest the next, and WHAM, HIT THE BRAKES, crest another WHAM! WHAM! Finally the car slows, I cautiously proceed, rather than stop (lest another idiot follows behind doing the same stupid thing…)
We drive back to the technical garages … Park, and look underneath to assess any potential damage …
There were probably scrapes on the lower front fascia but what immediately stood out was the stream of oil dribbling out around the oil pan drain bolt. I hit that bugger on the ground, not ripped it out, but somehow enlarged the hole so that it no longer sealed.
All, plans for the rest of the day changed to how to get back to Farmington from Chelsea via Ann Arbor with a leaking oil pan. Back at Ann Arbor, I tried calling the local Chrysler dealers to see if they had replacement oil pans … Major fail, as the engine was so new, the parts system didn’t show any in stock. Tried the boyfriend of my sister to see if he could help, he was useless, as he couldn’t be bothered because he had a tee time.
As I recall it, it took two qts to reach Ann Arbor, and another three to reach Farmington. I parked the car in the street in front of my folks house, over a little gravel strip between the asphalt of the street and the lawn.
Later that evening, my folks returned home, and I had to tell y dad what had happened. He was much calmer about the incident than I would have predicted.
Next morning the car was returned to Dearborn on a flatbed and my dad had to explain to the company fleet director how HE had hit a pothole and done the damage (thanks dad!)! I don’t recall receiving any specific punishment, as I think my father realized I was about as full of contrition as was psychosomaticly possible.
So I was embarrassed in front of my friend, his roommate (also a high school acquaintance), my social circle, my parents, sisters, and worst of all, I put my dad in the position of having to lie for me. My dad was a very honest man, to my knowledge, this was the only lie I was aware of him ever having told. (Over the years, and since his passing, my embarrassment befor him has turned to gratitude and appreciation of his handling my failure as he did.)
One foot note, this reliant was an upper trim model with stamped steel wheels with chrome center caps and aluminum trim rings. Thinking I would be responsible, I pulled the trim rings and securely stored them in the trunk. I forgot to reinstall them and my dad didn’t notice their absence. But the fleet director did, and called my dad who had no idea. My dad called me, and I told him they were in the trunk and why, my dad relayed this to the fleet director (who probably no longer believed my dads cover story. But since dad was one of the senior executives, they just laughed about it, and the story was closed.)
Had a 1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Near the end of our ownership (probably around 275 000 kms, sold it with around 340 IIRC) it developed an odd intermittent wobble in the steering at highway speed. You’d hit a bump and the wheel would oscillate back and forth quite strongly, but it would keep tracking straight. Took it to a run of the mill shop, they found nothing wrong, so we kept driving it. One day I was on the highway and it happened again, this time quite violent. I slowed and pulled onto the shoulder, and a car followed me and stopped behind me. I got out and he yelled at me “dude, do you know what just happened? Your front wheel was flopping back and forth at a 45 degree angle! I thought it was going to fly off!”
And that’s when we took it to a different shop, where they immediately found the broken tie rod.
From 97-98 I had an 8v 1986 VW GTI. I got it with 200k on the odo and proceeded to put another 30k on it driving to and from commuter college, and across the country up, down and across…That thing was amazingly great; it had been maintained by a neurotic Polish mechanic I went to high school with, but it had this odd quirk that we could never figure out…on hot days, in traffic, it would just…quit. It was exactly the same kind of experience as vapor lock, but of course, it wasn’t, being fuel injected. It happened a few times, but the most extravagant was on Wacker Drive in downtown Chicago at exactly noon on a hot August day. Oh, we tried, but she wouldn’t start. Horns blaring, traffic built up, and there was nothing we could do but sit back, crank up the Allmans and wait for her to cool down.
I later wound up totaling that car completely sober on my way home from work. I got distracted and literally drove straight into a tree…a half-block down the street from my house. So there you go…two stories in one.
’75 Sedan DeVille that I had just bought, which popped an upper radiator hose in Roanoke, VA while I was driving it home. Why is that seemingly innocuous event the most embarrassing breakdown I have had? Because it happened in my mother-in-law’s driveway! The hose curiously decided to blow about 30 seconds after I had parked and shut the engine down — so, coolant started spraying everywhere just about when she came out the door of her house.
16 years old driving a 72 Ford Country Squire flower delivery car. Tie rod broke as I was going about 40 MPH. Couldn’t steer very well and managed to slow down enough to pull off the road. Slowed down even more when I hit a WWII ships bell that a church had out in front as a memorial. The bell was fine, not so much the 72 Ford. Had a hard time convincing my boss this is what really happened to his car.
Okay, one more. I had an ’82 Cavalier Type 10 which I had lowered, among other things in prep for getting into autocrossing. One of these involved removing the insulation and stiffening sheet metal from the underside of the hood (to reduce weight). This meant the secondary safety catch for the hood was no longer in place…
As you can guess, I didn’t get the hood fully latched one day, and as I was entering I-85 from the on-ramp, the hood blew, smashing the windshield and reducing my visibility to a three inch slit as I sheepishly pulled over to the emergency lane for repairs (and a change of undershorts).
I don’t have any embarrassing breakdowns but I do have embarrassing car accidents.
I have a fair bit of these kind of experiences, one was a 1992 ford f150 351w lil 2wd. Pushin 320thou km drivin it up a lil hill when i started losin power, limped it the 20 km to my work, pulled the rocker panels and found 5 bent pushrods, replaced those, motor sounded bit better, but could still hear a ticking sound, truck was parked and is still parked
My ’71 Beetle I drove in high school. I’d just installed a set of dual Weber 34 carbs and was going to take a buddy of mine for a ride to show him the difference it made. Pulled out onto the street and just as I hit 3rd gear the right rear wheel came loose, ripping the fender half way off in the process.
Lesson learned, never trust the guys at the Sears Auto Center. I’d had tires put on the car not long before.
To this day, I take the wheels off of my vintage cars and just take the rims to the tire shop in the back of my truck to have them mounted.
My ’89 Regal. I had to buy it because it was cheap, the owner offered to let me pay for it in two installments and I was flat broke. This POS had a leaky window, horrendous brakes (had to immediately sink 600 bucks into it, surprise) and bald tires. Still, it was Tennessee in 1997 so they only inspected exhaust. It passed.
There was a slight knocking in the engine that the previous owner wrote off as tapping valves – “all Buicks have them”.
I drove the car around for about a year and a half, never long trips, just to work and around town. I was working overnights as a videotape editor, so I’d leave work, eat lunch and head to a matinee at least once a week.
I was happy as a clam driving back from the theater when I approached a busy residential intersection. The car went tap tap tap tap TAP TAP BANG.
Goodbye connecting rod. I had to be pushed out of the intersection. It was towed to a nearby Exxon station where I was told the car “done blowed up”. I walked five miles home, so mad, nearly in tears.
Today if I complain about being broke, it’s nothing compared to those first few years out of school and in the news business. And if I complain about driving a POS, it’s never as bad as that old pile of it.
This very same thing happened to me on my Fox bodied Mustang. I recall it was a Monday morning as I backed out of my driveway heading to work. so I could not have been going more than 5 mph.
However, the previous afternoon I had been on the (in)famous New Jersey Parkway heading back from a shore weekend — I seem to recall hitting 90 mph on that sunday afternoon drive.
lucky boy, indeed.
For me, it was around 1990 or so. My parents were returning my aunt to Tampa International Airport. Mom’s 78 Nova decided it wanted to run on 2 cylinders instead of the normal 6 along the way. The Nova’s power was so dramatically reduced, it couldn’t make it up the incline to the short-term parking garage once we made it to the airport.
Suffice to say, after years of my parents buying nothing but GM products, that Nova was replaced by a 90 Corolla. We haven’t owned a GM vehicle since.
I had advertised my 1964 Corvair convertible on the university cork boards. I think it was for $300. I had upgraded a bunch of stuff on the car except for the RR wheel bearing which continued to make bad noises.
I mentioned this to my prospective buyer and his question was when he thought he should change it out. My response was “as soon as possible”. I then made a slow right hand turn and the rh tire/wheel assembly decided to part company with the vehicle. Only cost $50 to fix it, but the Englisher decided to pass. Sold the bitch anyway.
$50 to fix a Corvair rear wheel bearing? Must have been a LONG time ago.
1971 Plymouth Cricket. I was 17 and it was my first new car, a gift from family. Car is about 6 weeks old and driving on I-95 at 60 MPH in top (fourth) gear a loud rattling from the engine, the windshield gets covered in oil and looking out the side window I see my alternator go rolling past me, got it to the shoulder without getting killed and there was a large hole in the engine block where the alternator used to mount. Took Chrysler six weeks for a new engine. FYI I was careful to not abuse my first new engine and even followed break in rules including changing oil at 600 miles.
A classic POS,sold as the Hillman/Chrysler and finally Talbot Avenger in the UK.It was still a better car than the British Leyland abominations though
It was late on a snowy winter’s night and it was last call at Charley O’s, World Famous. I lived about 3 miles north, and another fellow, who had a developmental disability which hindered his ability to talk or to walk, lived in the next town north from me, another 8 or 9 miles.
He asked me for a ride.
So we piled into my ancient Volvo 140 and headed out on the treacherous roads. The streets were entirely empty.
My passenger lived on a dirt road with high snow drifts on each side, and, unfamiliar with the road, the Volvo lost its way and got hopelessly stuck about a mile short of our presumed destination.
With my developmentally disabled passenger securely locked inside, I lit out on foot, knocking on doors along the way. I didn’t know just where he lived and he wasn’t able to tell me–the plan was he was going to signal when we got there. It was about 2:30 AM so not too many people were really anxious to see me. But eventually some kind soul knew of this person and offered to take him the last half mile.
It was about 4:AM when I got back to the marooned Volvo. Without any viable transportation of my own, my only option at that point was to head out for home on foot. Which, if you have been paying attention, was about 8 or 9 miles south.
The dawn was breaking as I entered my dooryard.
After some hot coffee and fried eggs I found my snow shovel and was able to hitch a ride back up to the stranded Volvo and eventually get it freed from its frozen prison.
Well, . . . you know what they say: . . . .No good deed goes unpunished.
Ya know…I can’t think of an embarrassing breakdown.
Maddening…yes. Threatening the health of my bank account…sure.
Leaving me living at Mom & Dad’s with not even working wheels…been there, done that.
But, embarrassing? Can’t say. Does having a flat on the Eastex Freeway in rush hour, having to drive two miles on that flat to an exit because there was no breakdown lane, and then missing a job interview, count? I didn’t get the job or even another scheduled interview…but I can’t say I was embarrassed. As I might have said in the session: “Feces occur.”
…Thought of one! See below…part of my VW farfromgruven experience.
In the last 17 years I have only had two minor breakdowns. One a dead battery miles from home and two a shift cable retaining clip fell off while driving resulting in losing first and second gear. I don’t even count flat tires as long as the spare is filled with air.
The owner of the cab should be embarrassed. They were probably told for the last year of service that the ball joints were junk. Anybody who has ever worked in a shop knows what I’m talking about.
The first response I can think of is when I apparently ran a red light and clipped the edge of another vehicle which resulted in my Voyager’s radiator filler neck being pushed into the battery and breaking. That same Voyager had a bad EGR Valve a few years back so it would occasionally stall and one time I dashed across a four way then wondered where my easy steering and braking went; I slowly crashed into a snow bank before I could stop in time. At least when the Distributor gave up the ghost I was at my apartment. I could also mention the time the brake line sprung a leak at the dentist’s office, but I have told enough stories.
About 10 years ago the family’s 1987 Saab 900 ran out of gas when trying to accelerate from a green light, but that was because the person behind the wheel was stressed out and and the gas gauge stopped working years earlier.
Around 2006 or 2007 our 93 Legacy lost 3rd gear so it was either drive through town slower than everyone in 2nd or five or so over and almost lugging, but going about the same speed as everyone else. Anyway, when leaving Wegmans and trying to get into gear from a stop sign the driver could not find a gear for a few minutes. I got out of the car about 30 seconds in and told the person behind us to either help push us out of the way or stop blowing the damn horn. Once a gear was found we made it home, but the tranny was spitting hot fluid and bits on the driveway which was when I was put on fire extinguisher duty just in case.
About 1987 or so, I was a young lawyer who had joined a service club that met weekly for lunch. For some reason, I elected that morning to leave my perfectly good daily driver at home and drive my 61 TBird to work. I always described it as not really so much of a 61 TBird, but a 61 TBird kit. It was very early in my planned restoration, and was really nothing more than just a thoroughly worn out Ford.
I got to lunch just fine, everyone there knew I had a thing for old cars, and many remarked on it when they came in. As I went to leave, it refused to start. Then the weak battery gave up. One by one, friends left, many offering rides. I had to call AAA to tow the miserable thing back to the house. I never drove it to a meeting again.
Embarrassing, and nearly disastrous – in the vein of the Crown Vic pic above.
First off, let me preface the story thusly: I was young, broke, and ignorant. I knew my way around a car, but I didn’t have even a fourth of the mechanical knowledge I possess today.
That being said… it was an early ’90s Chevy pickup that I had just bought. Half-ton, 2WD, 4.3, 700R4, regular cab, long box. The stereotypical “work truck”. It was still pretty shiny and clean, but had 250K and in all reality was loose as a goose. I knew it had an iffy left wheel bearing, but I’d blown all my cash buying the truck and didn’t own a tow rig at the time. I figured I’d baby it on the trip home, then park it and give it all the parts it was begging for once payday rolled around.
The truck, however, had other ideas. 100 miles later, rolling down the last couple miles of freeway before my exit, the truck suddenly started pulling left. Uh-oh. I started easing it towards the exit immediately before mine, ever-so-gently tried to apply the brakes… and got nothing. $@)*#$^#@!!!
I rolled down the exit – which, fortunately, had no stop sign or light at the bottom – and, with the help of neutral and careful application of the parking brake, brought the wreck to a halt on the side of the street. As you could probably guess, my left front wheel’s camber was… ahem, a bit off.
Since I had no money for a tow, and knew nobody else would be at home to assist, I did the unthinkable and drove it two more miles home on the surface streets. To keep it going in a straight line, I had to cock the wheel half a turn to the right. 15mph all the way, hazard lights on, rolled a few stop signs, but I made it.
Unfortunately, the decision to drive it those last two miles also cost me a spindle, and the general destruction made the job much, much more difficult. But if any good came of this mess, it was that I proceeded to replace *all* the front-end wear items on the truck. And at over 350K (many years, one motor, and two trannies later), it’s still rolling today!
I’ve had a few …. but one that sticks in my mind was getting our ’93 Corolla stuck (high centered) in deep snow at the bottom of a long (about 1/2 mile) hill. A passing 4Runner offered to tow me to the top – I had a tow strap with hooks on each end – so I reached under the front and hooked it to the factory tiedown loop. The 4Runner pulled me just fine, with some help from the Corolla, and as the hill levelled off near the top I was able to get enough traction to put a little slack in the tow rope. Suddenly, the tow rope was flapping around on the ground and vapor (steam? smoke?) started coming from the front of the Corolla. By now I could get traction OK, so I stopped and checked out the damage. I had hooked the tow strap around an AC line, just next to the tow eye. But that 1/4″ tubing was strong enough to pull the fully loaded (4 people and luggage) Corolla through deep snow for almost 1/2 a mile! The vapor was the escaped refrigerant condensing in the cold air. After repairing the AC, and getting stuck a few more times (with chains, mind you), we bought a Land Cruiser which would go through any snow you could throw at it. One time when we had both cars up there I had to yank the Corolla out of a snow bank, and I was very careful to hook up the strap correctly.
1970 Beetle, spun out during a snowstorm in Arlington Ma.
Hit the curb so hard, right rear wheel ended up at 45 degree angle.
Drove home, couldn’t straighten it by hand. No money, so called friend in NH who said he’d fix it.
Drove it 60 miles to his shop, somehow.
Very unpleasant drive. very unpleasant looks from everyone passing me.
Gawd, I’d FORGOTTEN that!
I had a Beetle Experience myself…Southwestern New York ski country. I had a job there, working for a small resort town’s DPW. Heavy snow there, is not like heavy snow in Indianapolis…there was three feet on the ground, and the roadside banks were like giganormous berms.
The VW, a Super Beetle…the heater worked but not well. Old-time Beetle owners know the heat duct is right under the door sill…I’d come in the car with snow on my shoes; the alleged-heater would melt the snow…where it would again freeze on the hinge at the bottom of the accelerator pedal.
The pedal would stick. I got to being pretty good pulling it up on the move…with my right hand.
Except this time. I reached down…grabbed the pedal…and felt I was taking a steep elevator UP! Sitting up, all I see is flying snow.
When it stopped, I was sitting five feet in the air…on the snowbank, I’d slid off the side of the road; the flat floor of the Beetle acted like a toboggan, momentum launching the thing onto the peak of the snowbank.
I sat there, trying to figure out how to get down before the cops came. That was gonna be hard, because the County Jail and Sheriff’s Department was eight blocks away. I KNEW I’d get a ticket for that; and I already had two speeding tickets. Suspension time!
Fortunately, someone in a Bronco (an old-style one) came by with a tow rope…and cheerfully yanked me off my hill. Came right off; no damage to the VW…but a testimony to my foolhardiness borne of inexperience.
Engine oil cooler rubber hose burst on our 2008 Sienna 2 weeks ago dumping 4 L of engine oil in about 5 minutes. The first indication of a problem was the engine knocking.
That’s the embarrassing part.
Toyota says that the failed part (part of the engine’s oiling system mind you) is not covered by the powertrain warranty so we have to pay for the repair plus any engine damage. A TSB was issued in 2011 along with an updated all metal part but they will not address the problem on vehicles with the 3.5 L V6 and equipped with an engine oil cooler (Sienna, Highlander & Vensa) that were build between 2007 and sometime in 2011.
That is the maddening part.
Have them fix the hose, take the car somewhere else to another dealer have them fix the motor. Either that or get a hold of Toyota customer service quick.
My ex g/f had a Highlander and she blew the engine up in it and we installed a “Change Engine Light” to it.
Already contacted Toyota about it, waste of time.
Two stories. One my own, the second one I witnessed. In my first car, a remarkably cherry (for $500) red 1966 Beetle I was driving through the University of Missouri, St. Louis Campus on a Friday afternoon, with little to no traffic. Take off from a stop sign, out of first, into second when the car drops on the driver’s side and I hear a rubbing sounds and the car comes to a halt. The ball joint had broken (first year for these on VWs BTW) and the tire was pushed up into the fenderwell.
During the summer after graduation before college some of my friends and I got on a poker kick and played about three times a week. Coming home from one of these games in the wee small hours we are driving downhill on Bermuda Drive to a three-way intersection with Paul Avenue in my hometown of Ferguson, the roads are practically empty. We get to the stop sign, and stranded in the middle of the intersection is an early sixties Corvair. The driver had been proceeding through a right turn, only to have the engine drop to the pavement which brought the car to a stop when the rear bodywork hit the now stationary motor.
I can’t decide between 40 years ago testing the limits of Mom’s Torino at low speeds on ice (and putting it on it’s side), or last Wednesday night when I put my truck’s one drive wheel in a culvert.
Early 90’s in my pumpkin-orange ’78 Thunderbird; me, two of my brothers, and my brother’s future wife decided to road trip to Kentucky (we lived in Ohio). The steering was never right on that car, but I was young and stupid, but then that’s not relevant to my story. On our way back, shortly after we had crossed a bridge, I start smelling smoke-so I pull over at the first driveway I see, which is a very nice house, and pop the hood. Don’t remember what had caught fire but we had a nice one going. Quick thinking brought about the recollection of two 2-liters of Pepsi purchased in KY, which were used to douse the flames, and onward home we continued. Along the way, it started slipping gears badly, so again, I pull over and inspect, to find the car low on tranny fluid. So we ended up stopping at several garages on this road asking people if they had tranny fluid we could buy off of them-we eventually found someone with some, and off we were again.
Another, not exactly embarrassing moment was similar to this Vicky, when I was driving my ’00 Dodge Neon on a side street. As I tried to accelerate from a stop sign, the car offered resistance. Not dead tranny lack of movement, but something was stopping the car from proceeding with a left turn.I get out of the car and check out the driver’s side, looks fine. I go over to the passenger’s side and I spot my problem, my right front tire has decided to blaze it’s own path-the tie-rod had separated. So I popped the “ball” back into the “cup”, take off my shoes, take out the shoelace on one, and wrapped that pitch up. Drove it for a little while like that, anyway, until I got paid and could fix it right.
Driving my ’64 Humber Sceptre Mk I through west London on my way to work one sunny morning, I noticed that I was getting lots of funny hand signals from passing motorist and my car seems to be having problems going in a straight line.
Not wanting to risk a breakdown so far from my toolbox, I turned the car around and was proceeding home at a steady pace when the bloody front passenger side wheel took off down the road; bouncing along the pavement that luckily was pretty much deserted.
My car, naturally, ground to a halt on only three wheels and I jumped out the drivers seat and legged it after my freedom loving forth wheel. It came to a halt at the feet of a surprised small boy whom helpfully observed…”hey mister, you’ve lost your front wheel”.
I’d only just serviced the car that morning and had forgotten to check that all the wheel nuts had been fully tighten.
Never again!