Weird Car Stories

[shmeep]

A couple of us were talking about car trouble off the board and it occurred to us that a lot of people probably have weird car stories.

Here's one of mine. I have a seemingly endless number, so I'll start with my second car, Friedrick.

Friedrick was a 1895 Audi Coupe GT. Very cool little car. This is exactly what he looked like:



Anyway, he had all sorts of problems. The coolant leaked out once and I drove him anyway and fried my engine. Another time--and this is probably my favorite break-down story!--I was backing out of a parking space at Cedars Sinai Cancer Center after visiting a friend in the chemo ward and suddenly the car wouldn't move. I got out and found that both front tires were pointing out--in opposite directions. They were doing the splits. And I had just blocked in an ambulance that was about to transport an elderly cancer patient to another hospital. That was terrible on so many levels! I called AAA and told them I was blocking in an ambulance and they were there in fifteen minutes (if felt like it took hours). Then they towed me all the way back to The Valley. $100.00--and he was being generous! It wasn't a bad little car, even if you did need to go into the engine and tape something down every time you wanted the AC to work and then undo it whenever you needed heat. But he looked just like that picture no matter how he drove (thanks to the new paint job I received after crashing him once), so people always complimented me on how cute he was.

Another time, I heard a loud noise so I pulled over and found that most of the muffler was dragging beneath the car. I was meeting someone for a movie so I drove like that--on the freeway!--from Sherman Oaks to the Fallbrook Mall (Mouse knows how far that is--10-15 miles?) and then I called my brother (this is pre cell phone, of course) so he could let me know where a muffler shop in the area was. After the movie, he had the name of the shop ready so I drove over there with my friend following me. When I got there, everyone at the shop stopped what they were doing to stare at me because of the horrible noise of the muffler dragging on the concrete. I pulled up, rolled down my window, and said to the guy in charge in my dumbest blond voice, "I think I might need a new muffler!" They all laughed heartily at that.

[bjobsessed]

admin said:

.

Friedrick was a 1895 Audi Coupe GT. Very cool little car. This is exactly what he looked like:

Don't you mean 1985? ;D

[shmeep]

bjobsessed said:

Don't you mean 1985? ;D

NO! It was one of those nineteenth century Audi Coupes! A true classic!

Okay...1985 does make a bit more sense.

[inuvik]

I'm still on my first car. It's 15 years old now, so I'm hoping and praying I won't be able to contribute any repair/breakdown stories to this thread!!

[mlm828]

When I first moved to California, I had to learn how to drive a manual transmission. A friend taught me on his 1960s-era VW van. One evening, I drove him to a friend's house. Since he was only going to be inside for a few minutes, I stayed in the van, which was parked facing uphill. He asked me to drive to the top of the street, turn around, and come back to pick him up. Unfortunately, he had not bothered to teach me the trick for starting up when stopped going uphill. By the time he came back outside, the van and I had rolled to the bottom of the hill -- backward. Then he taught me how to get going uphill from a stop.

My first car after moving to California was a 1966 VW bug. It had a 6-volt electrical system (12-volt is standard). The lights were so dim, I could barely see where I was going at night. The radio would cut off when the turn signal went on, and vice versa. I never knew when it would refuse to start, so I had to learn how to start it by rolling downhill, putting it in second, and popping the clutch. Of course, I had to be sure I was parked going downhill for this to work. One night (or early morning), when I was driving home from a party, its muffler fell off. Not quite as spectacular as shmeep's muffler story, but I suspect it woke up a few people in the neighborhood.

[shmeep]

Now THAT'S my kind of car story, mlm! I always thought going uphill with a stick shift was a bit scary, even though I never even owned an automatic until we moved to DC.

My first car was a 1971 VW Bus. I looooved it. All my friends came over one day and we painted really odd things all over the interior and felt ever so clever for doing that. It didn't have the problem with the dim lights or anything like that, but for a while it had a problem with the idle so it stalled whenever I stopped. I constantly had to pop the clutch while I was driving and I dreaded red lights and stop signs and managed to muddle through with "California Stops" whenever I could. The worst was the time someone parked way too close behind me and I had to do a 20-point turn just to get out of my parking space. And the car died. Every. Time. I. Stopped. Took me about twenty minutes.

One time someone smashed the window of that car and then didn't even steal the stereo. I was grateful, of course, but what was the point in smashing the window if my stereo wasn't worth stealing? I found that vaguely insulting. The stereo was stolen out of my Audi twice! Aw, I miss The Valley!

[shmeep]

My dad had an old 1965-ish Pontiac that probably looked just about like this when he bought it:



My mental image has it looking more like this:



See, Dad has always been one to use something far too long and the fact that my brother had to use this car for his driving test proves this was no exception. It was a constant source of embarrassment to us throughout our childhood. How bad does a car have to get before it's considered a treat to be driven around in one of these?



Well, eventually, only Dad would touch the old Pontiac. The seats were in tatters, the ceiling had rotted and rusted away so that whenever he went over a bump, everyone was sprinkled with little rusty particles, and a hole in the floor held my interest because it enabled me to see the street go by beneath the car. When I was in kindergarten, a classmate of mine got in and said to my dad, "This car sucks!" Dad just laughed. One morning my dad found a bum asleep in the back seat.

"Excuse me," Dad said politely, hating to disturb the guy's rest. "This is my car. I need to get to work."

The bum stared at him. "You're kidding me! You drive this thing? I thought it was abandoned!" He limped away and my dad went to work, feeling a little shocked that his car was so bad a bum could put it down.

He finally got rid of the thing. And that 1979 Chevy Impala Station that used to seem, by comparison, like a cool car? It eventually ended up in almost worse shape than the Pontiac and my parents gave it away to charity two years ago, still insisting it was a good car.

[anna]

My first car was a Ford Pinto. The last year I owned it, I took it for the annual emissions inspection. Based on past experience, I had taken the precaution of having it serviced right before the inspection, so, when it didn't pass, I took it back to the shop. They worked on it some more, and I returned to the inspection station. No good. Third trip to the shop; third failure.

The fourth time that I arrived at the shop, the service manager came out. He took a look at the service record and then said, "Leave it with me. I'll take care of it." In my memory, he always says this in an accent from a mobster B-movie. When I went back that afternoon, my passed-inspection report was waiting for me. I never asked any questions, but I always wondered what part was disconnected from the engine or who was bribed.

[greenbeing]

Too funny

I actually wrote my first essay for Creative Nonfiction on my cars. It's such a great topic that so many people can identify with!

My first car was Hyun (pronounced Hun). 'Twas a 1989 Hyundai Excel. Light blue, hatchback, v. cute. My sister inherited him from my grandpa when she went away to college, as he was on his last legs (the car, not my GP). She drove him back and forth to college for a few more years. He had a bad habit of squealing during wet weather, very loud. I inherited him from my sister when she decided he was a deathtrap, my senior year of high school. If the brakes had ever gone out, all I'd have had to do was turn on the air conditioner. Hyun barely moved forward when that was on, probably he would have moved backwards more quickly. But his heater was the bestest heater in the world, ah, how I miss the warmth!

Hyun also wasn't watertight, so one night, after washing him, I came out from taking pictures for yearbook, and found my windows had frosted over. The odd thing was, no one else's windows were frosted over... So I started to scrape, but nothing was coming off--he'd frosted on the inside! And scrapers are just not meant to do the inside of the window. Trust me. But, lovely heater that he had, he defrosted in no time.

Sadly, he died one year and one week after I got him. I cried and my sister laughed at me.

My second car was a 1996 Hyundai Accent, gorgeous green and v. cute. I'm a glutton for punishment, aren't I? I could never figure out his name, and just called him the Little One most of the time, or his given name was Namari, which is Japanese for "accent." That was a problem, as he was Korean, and didn't speak Japanese. I finally figured out that the naming problem was because I assumed he was a boy, like Hyun, but I'm afraid he was a girl... He ran great, but had trouble with little things, like the windows would never roll up correctly, and the door handles liked to break. One night I got trapped at work because my door had frozen open. I couldn't just leave him and go back inside because I wasn't in the best neighborhood, and couldn't just leave him to be eaten by predators. But I couldn't drive, as the door wouldn't close. My brilliant GP told me to get some rope and tie the doors together, so they'd only flap a little. Ha! It was a forty minute drive home, and I do value my life on occasion. My sister came out and rescued me.

No terrible ending to my Little One. When my dad got a new car, he sold me his old one, as he said it would last longer, and I would be graduating from college and not in a position to buy a new car anytime soon. My dad is such a rational car buyer. So my cousin bought my Little One. Was still running perfectly until three months ago, when the door handles and windows were in such bad shape that even closing the door would cause the windows to fall down, so my cous. bought a new car.

My third car is a Jeep Cherokee named Charles. He was my dad's, low mileage, they last a long time... The "practical" car. But that's when I found out my dad has no value for his own life. He wasn't keeping up with the little things, like tires (he says, you'll need to get new tires before winter) and the battery (he says, you'll need a new battery before winter). One week later, it's August, nowhere near winter! and I'm trapped because the battery was dead. One week after that, it sprinkled, didn't even rain, and I was sliding all over the road and through stop signs, because there was no traction left on the tires. Hopefully his life insurance company doesn't know about his lack of regard for his life!

Charles had been spoiled, led a priveleged life in the garage, drove only two miles a day to work and back. Suddenly he found himself parked in the driveway, and the first time it frosted, I came out to find he'd thrown up his water pump all over the driveway in protest. But we had a talk, about how, yes, he had to live outside and drive thirty miles to work and back now, but I fed him more often and gave him baths and changed his oil and did routine maintenance and doctor's checkups.

My sister and I had named Charles such because my mom's car we'd dubbed Princess Diana. She never slept outside, always in the garage. Drove from the garage at home to the garage at work, which was heated. Her car had a big nose, big ears (doors), was very spoiled, and took up most of the garage because my mom didn't know how to park. So we dubbed my dad's Jeep Charles because he had to squish into the other side of the garage and put up with sleeping outside on occasion, and because they lived together in the garage. Our Diana died about one year after the Princess of Wales. Charles was a bachelor, and soon got evicted from the garage.

I have a sink in the back of my car now... It's been there for three weeks because I can't get it out. But now that Charles has his very own garage that he doesn't have to share, he doesn't mind so very much.

Last month I drove a real car, a Honda, for the first time in about four years. That was sooo weird! I had a terrible time getting out of it, because I went to jump down, and the ground was already there. I nearly fell over! My grandma laughed at me.

--GB

[Eyphur]

The VW mentions got me thinking. My Dad and my Grandpa owned several VW bugs over the course of my child hood.



This is me in my Daddy's Orange VW bug in the Fall of 1984. Thats my blanky "Pinky" hanging there next to me.

Anyhow because Dad and Grandpa owned several of these cars (at least 4 or 5 between them that I can remember between babyhood and junior high) they had parts stored in their shed. Not just things like tires and carburetors but body parts like fenders and a hood. Now if you didn't know this then let me inform you: the hood of a VW bug makes an excellent sled. When I was kid and it snowed grandpa would take me sled riding in the hood. One time a neighbor joined us and just a few months ago she told me how much fun she had sledding in that hood.

For many years my Grandpa drove me to school each morning (he was a Township Trustee and had to go to the township building every morning, which was located just past my school) one morning in 7th grade we were halfway to school when I realized that I had forgotten my lunch at home. Grandpa said not to worry that he would get my lunch and drop it off in the school office later that morning. Well on his way back home to get my lunch, the engine of his Bug caught on fire. A school bus driver who was passing by, stopped and put the fire out with the extinguisher from the bus. So Grandpa had his Bug towed home and eventually repaired the engine and was back to driving me to school in it, although I was always a little freaked out by the car after that. Oh and my mom brought my lunch down to me, she had noticed it still sitting on the counter.

I actually got my current car (a blue Ford Focus) because the shape of it sort of reminds me of a Bug. My car's name is Sapphire Harmony and I won't bore you with my big breakdown in Illinois story (because a. you've probably already heard it and b. it would go better in a vacation disasters thread and c. this post is long enough).

[Forensic Paws]

Oooooooo some great car stories!

I've only got 1 car story i can think of right now, mum has a bluey-green 1992 Ford Falcon called 'Serenity'.
One frosty morning, at around 3am, I was woken by a HORRIBLE sound. It sounded like a cross between a siren, a car horn and someone strangling a cat. It didn't stop, so after about 5 minutes, I got up and spoke to mum (who was also awake, and wondering what the fudge was going on!). We wandered outside and it seemed to be Serenity making all that noise. However, the windows were completely frosted over so we couldn't see inside the car. Realising it was the car horn, our minds (mine in particular!) wandered and I had visions of some person slumped over the steering wheel (and people say I watch too much tv ). My dog was also growling at the car, and he ionly growls if something's wrong, so mum and I decided to call the police. JUST IN CASE.
Police were ther in about 15 minutes, opened the car door, nothing wrong with the inside, nothing pressing on the horn. So he lifted up the hood and after fiddling around he disconnected the horn.

So it was somewhat embarrssing for us, but thankfully the officer was a nice guy who was having a slow night anyway Lol.

It turned out there was something wrong with the connection to the horn and in frost, or if it got wet (heavy rain) it would go off, and it was the most HORRIBLE sound. It's all fixed now, hopefully.

[greenbeing]

One night (I work evenings, so I'm up much later than the average bear), I heard this very odd, horrible scraping noise from outside. I ran to the window, as I'm sort of like our own neighborhood watch person, and I found the neighbor's car had fallen out of their driveway! It had rolled back and was blocking half of the street.

These were the new neighbors, who had never seen me before, only my parents, so there I was, at two in the morning, standing on their front porch, ringing the doorbell and knocking. And they refused to come to the door! Finally the youngest daughter came, but she would't open the door, just made me yell through, and finally she said she'd tell her dad, then left. Well, hmph! I'm not that scary, I don't think.

Shortly thereafter the neighbor girl got a new car. Wonder why, eh?

The funniest part of the story is that the neighbors who had just moved out, I'd been terrified of the husband since I was seventeen. My sis had just given me Hyun, and I had to park in the street because she'd transferred back to the local college and taken my spot in the driveway, and because Hyun leaked oil like no other. But I'd just started parking there when one day the next door man came out and called me over and said, "You shouldn't park there right behind our driveway." Being the closest spot to my house, and right under the street light for safety, I thought he was completely batty, especially when he told me his reason: Just in case one of their cars were to fall out of the driveway!

Then I found out his fear was not unfounded, as cars really do that. Too bad he was moved out, so I couldn't tell him, and also apologize for hiding from him for five years...

--GB

[bjobsessed]

These stories aren't really weird, but they show how much bad luck I have with cars. I have had my car stolen twice. (Not the same one). We live on a back street so it always struck me as odd, but maybe that's why--not many people around. I always thought no one would touch my car because of the hand controls. Most people don't realize that anyone can drive the car as normal and just ignore them. The first time the car was found around the corner but not before the contents had been emptied. The car was full of sand indicating that it had probably been taken to the beach. The thieves were never found.

The second time they broke the door and wrecked the ignition. The contents were untouched and it was found about a mile away. I now have an alarm system on my car that is installed/uninstalled whenever I get a new car.

The third incident happened when my nephew was about four years old. He was at a daycare fifteen minutes away. He had a temperature of 104 and my sister couldn't be reached so they called me. As I was driving out there, I noticed the car seemed to take on a mind of it's own whenever I turned left. It didn't want to go left at all which made me nervous but I didn't think much of it because I was worried about my nephew. When I arrived at the daycare, he was in a dark room and out of it. I drove quickly back to my town with him in the front seat hoping that he wouldn't go into convulsions as I raced down the highway. The car continued to do the same thing and now I was more concerned because of having a child in the car. I made it back to my sister's house in record time. My mom had managed to find her by then. Just as I pulled into her driveway, I heard a very loud bang and the back wheel fell off! I was stuck in her driveway and we had to call a tow truck. The car was history as there were many things wrong with it and it wasn't worth the money it would cost to fix it. Needless to say, I was relieved that it hadn't happend when I was speeding down the highway with a sick child in the front seat.

My last story involves my crutch and a car. While still in college, I stopped to get gas. After filling the tank, I decided to clean the winshield as it was very dirty. I leaned one crutch up against the side of the car so I had a free hand to do this. I got in the car after and drove home. (about 45 minutes). I went to get out of the car and realized I only had one crutch. I found out that I had left the other crutch up against my car and drove away. Forty-five minutes later, I pick up my crutch at the gas station. It had obviously been run over by a car as the armrest was flat as a pancake and cracked but not broken. I still have the same set of crutches although they are now in rough shape. (I just got new ones today.) My dad drove me back to the gas station in a car which I later bought. Nice test drive!

[carl1951]

My first car was a very, very used 1952 Plymouth.

Ran great, but everytime I'd turn a corner too tight, the right door would fall off. I usually just left it in the back seat till I parked and left it till I needed to drive again.

I was planning to have it half refurbished. That never happened.

The Boy Scout Troop I was a leader of pushed it into the lake we were camping next to.

The door floated back to shore.

Later, Carl

[shmeep]

Carl, for a funny story well told in very few words (I can never seem to do that ), and for this sentence:

carl1951 said:

The door floated back to shore.

I gave you karma!