The good ol days: travel & tribulation

[Dispatcher]

Back in 1974, when I was 20 years old, I lived in delaware and had a girlfriend who lived in a small town in Florida. We had met when she was still living in Delaware, and when she moved with her mother, it presented a logistics nightmare for me. I had no college degree and jobs were scarce, so getting married was not an option, but I went to see her when I could.
On one trip down there, I took a friend with me. We were driving my 1967 VW fastback. After spending a week with my girlfriend, it was time to go back to Delaware. Just a mile out of town however, the engine went up in the VW. Crap, I thought, what are we going to do now?
My friend and I had just enough money for gas to get back, so buying another car wasn't possible. In hindsight, we could of taken the bus, but instead, we both got a temp job with the public works department.
After about 2 weeks, my girlfriend's mom said she would sell us her car for $100. That was all we needed to hear. So we quit our jobs, paid her the 100 bucks and took possession of the 1962 Pontiac Catalina.
It had a few problems though. For starters...no brakes, bald tires, no low beams, no tail lights, no brake lights, no dash lights, and a busted leaf spring.
No problem, my friend said. The brakes just need to be bled. So we bled the brakes, packed our clothes, and hit the road. 50 miles to the west, in Tallahassee, I came to a red light, applied the brakes, and the pedal went to the floor. Turned out we had a bad master cylinder. Not to be deterred, we pressed on, thinking this was the only way we were ever going to make it back home. I still had the parking brake, which would lock up one wheel.
As we were driving down I-85, it was easy to forget that we didn't have any brakes. At one point, I pulled off an exit to get gas, only remembering at the last moment that I had no brakes. My buddy Mike was asleep in the back seat. I stomped the parking brake with all my might, and as the car was sliding somewhat sideways towards the gas station, I yelled to Mike, "Mike!, Mike!, do you want me to hit the gas pump or the corvette next to the gas pump!?" Mike was a heavy sleeper, but he was awake in less than a second.
"Hit the car!" he yelled. "No...Don't hit the car!" he screamed.
When the car came to a stop, followed by rolling smoke from the only braking tire, I was 6 inches from the corvette.
We thought that things couldn't get any worse. We were wrong.
Driving through Macon, Georgia, we got stopped by a state trooper.
He looked just like he had walked off the set of "Smokey and the Bandit".
He said, "I stopped you boys cuz ya got no tail lights." He then proceeded to walk around the car, shining his flashlight inside and waking Mike up.
"Boys", he said, "This is the worst piece of shit car I have ever seen in my life. I should have it condemned and towed on the spot."
He asked us where we had come from and where we were going.
"Delaware?!", he yelled, "Delaware?...you have got to be kidding! You boys are gonna try to make it to Delaware in THIS piece of shit?"
"Yes sir" was my weak reply. He walked all the way around the car once more, shaking his head as he went.
"You boys either got balls of steel or not a lick of sense between ya, but Christ, if you've made it this far, I'm not gonna stop ya.", and he got in his patrol car and took off.
Mike and I made it back to delaware. The next day, we replaced the master brake cylinder, put some decent tires on the car, and gave it a paint job....with spray paint, brushes, and a roller, and prepared the car for our next road trip....Pittsburg, Pa.

[Ardentfrost]

ha, nice story