Tow, tow, tow yer car, all over the place…

This weekend has NOT been a banner one in motorsport for yours truly, let me tell you.

It all started Saturday, which began with a lurch. The guy I hired to install the third phone jack in the guest bedroom was close to 2 hours late. In his defense, he did have a pretty big family issue go down that morning, but it sure did start my day off with a fizzle. Plus, I hate getting up way too early on a Saturday morning only to find out I could’ve had at least another hour of sack time.

After I got dial tone, I buzzed off to Kent for a visit with Mark – it was really more of a drive by, but I hadn’t seen him since before I moved. The plan for the rest of the day was to grab a bite and head home via a DIY frame shop, where I’d finally take care of my Tolkien print.

D’Artagnan had other plans.

I was northbound on I-5 just across from Boeing Field when a white cloud of foof began to pour from under my hood. I pulled over and popped the hood to find, after a glorious billow of steam, coolant and water everywhere. Not good. Luckily, I have both a cell phone and a membership in AAA.

I phoned for a tow, but had no idea where I wanted it taken to, plus most shops close at 4 on a Saturday. Not only that, my own personal auto angel is on holiday -- t’Auld Man’s in Jamaica with The Mom and my aunt and uncle. I chose a shop that sounded close and hoped for the best.

After about 20 minutes of waiting, my wee Civic rocking with the gusts from passing traffic, I decided to drive off the freeway to the closest gas station and see if a little water won’t put me right. I cancelled the tow and buzzed to the next exit, D’Artagnan’s temperature gauge creeping dangerously towards red-lining. I found an Arco a few blocks away and limped in.

Do you know they charge for water now? And I thought coin-op air nozzles were a bit silly. After I got change, I filled the reservoir and began pouring both antifreeze and water into the radiator. (At the time, I didn’t notice it was running straight through it.) There endeth my knowledge of radiator/cooling systems maintenance. About a block away, another red-line situation. I knew I was in trouble. I called AAA back and said I’d need that tow after all. It was now after 4pm, and not knowing how I’d get home from the shop, I decided to have D’Artagnan towed home.

Does anyone other than me find tow trucks innately… sad? They’re like hospice workers for cars. “I’m so sorry, is there – anything I can do?”

On the positive side, parental vacationing means I could borrow the MomMobile, so I got a ride out to the homestead with Liz and Willi and snagged the keys.

Our vehicular adventure picks up again Tuesday, when I elected to have my trusty steed towed (yet again) to a shop a friend recommended.

30 agonizing minutes later, the mechanic emerged from the ER with a grim expression. Prognosis? “You’re gonna need a ride.” He needs a new radiator and water pump, possibly a head gasket, and new belts. To the tune of close to $1K?!?!! I left him there to go home and seek advice from those visiting the land of the Natty Dreads.

After reassuring him that I was OK, but the car wasn’t, I explained what had happened, where D’Artagnan was, and how much they were asking – at which time I heard t’Auld Man choke on his booze-free Piña Colada.

“I an’ I tink you’d best have ‘im towed to t’homestead, mon. Drive t’MomMobile ‘til we back an’ can make tings irie.”

“… OK Pop. Thanks. My love to Mom.”

“No problem, mon.”

Heh. So, D’Artagnan is comfortably situated at the Homestead, patiently awaiting repair. And it has to be said, the MomMobile is a sweet ride. For now, all’s well.

Brother, can you spare a radiator?