|
I guess a blown engine counts as damage. This is from an old post of an even older story.
In December of '85 the ex-wife and I headed back to Missouri from Norfolk in my '77 Monza. The car was on the brink of death, but we were planning on trading it in on a new car when we got back. Driving through the Appalachians in Virginia and West Virginia, the car was going about 40 mph up the mountains and 80 mph down the mountains. Finally we got to Charleston, which is exactly half-way, filled up with gas, got back out on the interstate, and as soon as the car got above 30 mph it started lurching and sputtering. We pulled over at a gas station, but it was the middle of the night and there wouldn't be a mechanic there until the next morning. We had almost no money - we slept in the car that night. The next morning, the mechanic delivered the bad news - blown engine. I remember his exact words - "There's no nice way to put this, you're ****ed." We ended up selling the car (luckily I had the title with me) to a guy that worked there for $100 and a ride to the bus station.
This is where the story gets weird.
While we're waiting (the bus didn't leave until 3:00 p.m.), one my wife's teachers from college just happened to stop at that gas station. They too were on their way back to Missouri from Virginia. The teacher was driving their family car, and her husband was driving a rental truck. They agreed to give us a ride home. So, we get past Lexington KY and the goddamn rental truck broke down. Luckily we had the $100 we'd sold the car for to pay for a hotel room that night. Finally the truck company fixed the truck the next day, and we got back on track. Finally arrived at Kirksville exactly 60 hours after we'd left Norfolk - made the return drive in a new car in 14.
|