Mission: Implausible

My brother and I went to the mall last weekend to have lunch, pick up a birthday present for my aunt, and generally browse around. On our way home, we stopped to get gas for his car, which we've dubbed "The Beige Beauty". It's falling apart on all sides, most of the interior electronics are fried, and you can hear it coming from blocks away.

Recently, it started making a "new" noise. One would describe it either as rocks tumbling or a drummer persistently playing the high hat. The new noise started up after we filled up, but then abrupted stopped. I didn't think anything other than it was nice to stop drawing attention to ourselves from pedestrians and motorists who had this look on their faces like we were here to destroy them. But then my brother looked down and said, "Um...the engine temperature is quite high." We both looked and saw the needle climbing slowly and steadily higher. Then, as if on cue, the "Check Gauges" light started to flash. We started to get fairly alarmed. Next thing we knew, the "Check Engine" light started to flash urgently. As a stop-gap measure, we cranked up the heat to try and draw some of it from the engine. All we got was really cold air.

So, what do we do here? We were pretty close to home. Stopping on the side of the road for a few minutes wouldn't really do much to cool the engine down. If we tried to speed up to get home faster, it might only serve to overheat the engine faster and we could blow up in the middle of the road. If we slowed down, we might not heat up as quickly, but then we could still blow up in the middle of the road before we got home. We decided to plow onwards, with me on the edge of my seat saying "Please don't blow up" over and over.

We made it home and my brother turned the car off quickly. We popped the hood and looked around. Strangely, nothing was smoking, and the radiator was ice cold.

In the end, it turned out that the fan belt had fallen off somewhere on the road. Most likely at the point when the rocks stopped tumbling. Oh yes, and the water pump had crapped out. Amazingly, my father got both of them replaced at a shop where they didn't try to get him to fix every other thing that was wrong with the car. And so we've breathed new life back into the Beige Beauty. One thing to be said for the cars in my family: all of them end their lives at the dump.

"Stop and stare, I think I'm moving but I go nowhere"