A friend of mine is driving from Atlanta to somewhere around Houston to visit friends.  She says she will try to drive straight through – a trip that should take about 12 hours or so.  It got me thinking about road trips in my past . . .

My first memorable trip was when I was in college.  My sister and I, and our dog Emmy were driving from Detroit to Philadelphia due to my father’s transfer.  It wasn’t that long a trip, there were two of us to drive, and Emmy had some happy pills from the vet.  We figured we were all set.

Around noon, somewhere around Somerset Pennsylvania, we started hearing a thumping noise coming from the engine compartment.  After going through the usual denial, fear, then acceptance stages of grief, we decided we’d better stop to have it checked out.  I don’t know what Somerset is like now, but when we pulled off the Turnpike, we found a one-main-street town.  It wasn’t difficult to find the service station.  There was only one.

The owner, a laid back but fairly efficient gentleman, diagnosed the problem – our water pump was shot and had to be replaced or we were in danger of ruining the engine.  If we’d been in a movie, the next news would have been that a new water pump would have to be ordered from the big city, and it would take a week.  But, we weren’t in a movie, so the garage had the part in stock.  From that point on, however, my sister and I spent most of our time trying to find the hidden camera.

The owner turned the repair over to an elderly man named Sarge.  Sarge was about 5’4″ tall, balding, slightly built and more than slightly cross-eyed.  Our car was a boat-like Ford LTD, as I recall, and the water pump was buried deep in the engine from what we could tell.  Not to worry.  Sarge had an answer.  He simply crawled into the engine compartment and started to disassemble our car.

We had wondered why there were chairs positioned along the outside walls of the garage.  That question was answered when the male retirees from the town started filling up the chairs one by one.  There was friendly banter among the friends gathered, and Sarge had a lot of help from the peanut gallery, as it were.  At some points, there was a crowd around Sarge as he sat in the engine compartment, with each person throwing in their suggestions.

Hmmm.  In the meantime, the weather had turned bad with a heavy rain storm.  If you’ve ever tried to get a doped up dog to relieve herself in the parking lot of a garage in the rain, you can feel our pain.  To pass the time, my sister and I took turns staying with Emmy and the car while the other went to the diner across the street to stock up on soda and snacks.

Finally, the crowd of old men drifted off, Sarge finished replacing the water pump and went home.  The owner of the garage put water wherever it is that the water goes in the engine, turned on the car, and we all watched as the water gushed out onto the garage floor.

By this time, it was well into evening.  The owner suggested that we might need to find somewhere to stay, and we decided to give it a try.  We called the one hotel at the Somerset exit.  They were full because a lot of travellers had decided to stop due to the weather.

The garage owner told my sister that his cousin had a motel nearby and he would be glad to drop us off there.  Right.  I am two years younger than my sister, but sometimes I swear it’s the other way around.  When she told me of the new plan, I told her it would be a cold day in hell before I ended up with no transportation at anyone’s cousin’s motel.  We talked the owner into fixing the car so we could travel on.

And so it was that the owner took the water pump apart (now, remember, Sarge had taken 5-6 hours to accomplish that feat – even with help!) and discovered (he said) that Sarge had put the end cap to the water pump on backward, allowing the water to run out.

Another thing that made me go Hmmm.  Even cross-eyed, if there’s a cap that must fit tightly, I found it hard to believe that Sarge could have made such a mistake.  But, the good news is that it did get fixed, finally.  My sister and I had made a reservation at another well-known motel a short ways down the Turnpike.  We didn’t exactly tell them we had a dopey dog with us, and as far as I know, they never found out.

That trip was the first of many over the years that are truly memorable.  If you’re heading out on a long drive, I hope your luck is better.  And, you can take with you this word of advice:  If you’re afraid you’re going to get drowsy on a long drive, take a $20 bill, hold it in your left hand and extend your arm out the window.