Gigabomber
500+ Head-Fier
- Joined
- Jan 28, 2005
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About a week ago, I took my car to the local, Junction City Wax shop Blue Rose (real nice work for cheap) then took my car next door to get my tires rotated.
As I pulled out of the driveway earlier that day, my mother noticed that a sizeable trail of oil followed me. I inquired about it at the tire shop and the guy said that it didnt look too critical - just keep oil in it - then he charged me two bucks for the quart we put in it.
So I get up this morning, take a shower and nibble down two pieces of toast; taking my time, yet still in a bit of a rush as i decided to take my mp3 player and had to un-pack my books from my backpack for later convenience.
I placed it and my trademark beyer container - containing around a thousand bucks worth of goodies - behind the drivers seat, as the stumpy Seeberg would be sitting behind the twiggy James__Bean.
I drove down to Eugene via Highway 99, found the Seven-eleven we were supposed to meet at, parked, used the facilities at the kitty-cornered Starbucks and waited.
We met up and found I-5 north just fine, but I noticed that the engine felt a little odd and that there was a bit of an odd smell wafting into our windows.
"That smell is just the remnants of the oil burning off from earlier: there was a lot of oil left from when my car sat for a while." I said to James as I glance into my rearview mirror and notice tiny white puffs of smoke coming out of my tailpipe; damn that grease-monkeys advice.
As my mouth opens to tell James "i'm going to pull over", I don't get through the "I", for the oil, temp and engine lights come on and I lose my steering. I get the car to the side of the road with no problems and say to James, "It's not on fire, at least," as I grab for my miniature fire extinguisher.
I pop open the hood and steam semi-billows out. I say while peering into the billows, "just like in the movies."
I call my mom (who wouldn't?) and i get her machine at work - great.
I can barely hear anything over the trucks rushing by, yet I try to call her cell (who wouldn't?) and the same - double great.
Time to wait and see if i can figure out what the problem is. Radiator cap is not too hot, the water level is fine, and the oil is still full, yet the cap where the water blew from is mysteriously missing.
I take the last of my drinking water and pour it in, something I later relected on as being a waste of time, called Triple A and wait.
Mom calls back and says she will be there soon, I call Triple A again and they say the truck will be there in ten minutes max (lies), and we discuss wether or not we will make the meet, and how soon Seeberg will go crazy (speaking of that, I had better drop him a message right now as this post is getting rather long)
So my mom shows, peeks under the hood, and spies a coiled belt, with its four internal cables snapped.
"At least it wasn't the oil," I say.
I decide to let James off the hook and let him do his homework instead of drive as his Language class is tomorrow at eight a.m. and doing work 'til three would just suck, and ask mom to take him home.
Looks like all it needs is a dollar twenty in a release valve and two belts,
and my hands are still sticky from the anti-freeze, boy that stuff tastes nasty,
~Gigs
As I pulled out of the driveway earlier that day, my mother noticed that a sizeable trail of oil followed me. I inquired about it at the tire shop and the guy said that it didnt look too critical - just keep oil in it - then he charged me two bucks for the quart we put in it.
So I get up this morning, take a shower and nibble down two pieces of toast; taking my time, yet still in a bit of a rush as i decided to take my mp3 player and had to un-pack my books from my backpack for later convenience.
I placed it and my trademark beyer container - containing around a thousand bucks worth of goodies - behind the drivers seat, as the stumpy Seeberg would be sitting behind the twiggy James__Bean.
I drove down to Eugene via Highway 99, found the Seven-eleven we were supposed to meet at, parked, used the facilities at the kitty-cornered Starbucks and waited.
We met up and found I-5 north just fine, but I noticed that the engine felt a little odd and that there was a bit of an odd smell wafting into our windows.
"That smell is just the remnants of the oil burning off from earlier: there was a lot of oil left from when my car sat for a while." I said to James as I glance into my rearview mirror and notice tiny white puffs of smoke coming out of my tailpipe; damn that grease-monkeys advice.
As my mouth opens to tell James "i'm going to pull over", I don't get through the "I", for the oil, temp and engine lights come on and I lose my steering. I get the car to the side of the road with no problems and say to James, "It's not on fire, at least," as I grab for my miniature fire extinguisher.
I pop open the hood and steam semi-billows out. I say while peering into the billows, "just like in the movies."
I call my mom (who wouldn't?) and i get her machine at work - great.
I can barely hear anything over the trucks rushing by, yet I try to call her cell (who wouldn't?) and the same - double great.
Time to wait and see if i can figure out what the problem is. Radiator cap is not too hot, the water level is fine, and the oil is still full, yet the cap where the water blew from is mysteriously missing.
I take the last of my drinking water and pour it in, something I later relected on as being a waste of time, called Triple A and wait.
Mom calls back and says she will be there soon, I call Triple A again and they say the truck will be there in ten minutes max (lies), and we discuss wether or not we will make the meet, and how soon Seeberg will go crazy (speaking of that, I had better drop him a message right now as this post is getting rather long)
So my mom shows, peeks under the hood, and spies a coiled belt, with its four internal cables snapped.
"At least it wasn't the oil," I say.
I decide to let James off the hook and let him do his homework instead of drive as his Language class is tomorrow at eight a.m. and doing work 'til three would just suck, and ask mom to take him home.
Looks like all it needs is a dollar twenty in a release valve and two belts,
and my hands are still sticky from the anti-freeze, boy that stuff tastes nasty,
~Gigs