My 3 Day Trek From East to West.

I know this is a little known fact, but my car is a shit-can. It is ugly. It breaks down every few months for extended periods of time. And for a large fraction of the years that I have owned it, the "green-goblin" has emmited driving sounds ranging from "Fast and the Furious race car" to "large freight train engine" to "oh my god, someone is incinerating that house filled with cats."

Like I said... shit-can.

So obviously, when I stated that I would packing up and heading out west to explore the wilds of Seattle and the surrounding area (and yes, probably do some work on my Masters), you can imagine the looks and exclamations of my stupidity I received from friends and family (you, the readers). Nonetheless, I remained steadfast in my decision to subject my car to yet another cross country trip, boldly placing wagers as high as five WHOLE dollars that my '92 feat-of-German-Engineering Jetta would most certainly make it past MEMPHIS (Lay-who...suh-her) and roll into, under its own power, the north-western most reaches of the lower 48 with out so much as one single breakdown.

Errrrrrrrr. WRONG.

This is the story detailing my three day trek from Roanoke, VA to Seattle, WA. I hope you enjoy it more than I did...

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"The trip out to the east coast was pretty money for about 1.5 days, and then things kinda went to shit. First off, I have no cruise control, so my gas-pedal leg really started to hurt. Next, I have no radio, so my ears started getting sore from the iPod headphones. Combine this with the fact that I was driving about 15 hours a day, alone, and yeah... kinda shitty.

Oh, the car trouble: Around 150 miles shy of the South Dakota/Wyoming border my car started popping out of 5th gear. Now, those upper states have a marvelous speed limit of 75 miles an hour, so of course, I am cruising along at a steady 85 (yeah, I didn't know my car could go that fast either!). Anyway, when you are pedaling it at 85 and all of a sudden your shifter is thrown out of 5th gear and your rpm's shoot through the roof, it gets your attention. When it happens multiple times in a row, and you have to begin driving down the road HOLDING (and by holding I mean, pressing with high force) the shifter in gear to get anywhere, you get pissed.

I stopped at a gas station, look under the car... COMPLETELY covered in oil and muck. I look at the transmission, and there, plain as day, is the inside exposed. Turns out, the rock I thought I had hit earlier was actually my transmission cap falling off the car and getting wrapped under the tire, into the tire well, and leaving my life forever. Over the next couple hundred miles all my transmission fluid leaked out.

The trannie was DRY.

So I call my dad, uncle, etc... Uncle knows someone in South Dakota who can help. Thank god. I meet the guy, nice old man, takes me into his garage, and we start fashioning a part to cover the gaping hole. We finish, put it in place, all is great, I'm stoked to get back on the road, so we get some fluid and go to pour it in. Well, turns out my dad did not know the correct hole to put the fluid into, so I pour it into my bell housing, IN WITH THE CLUTCH. Needless to say, I was about to throw a fit. A few drops of oil ruined my last clutch, and here I just poured a quart of oil into this brand new one I had just installed a few months ago.

We do our best to clean it out dumping cans of not so enviro-friendly degreaser in there, and about 12 that night (6 hours after I got there), I start her up and drive. It isn't slipping, things seem to be alright, so hit the road, thanking Don, eager to cross the border into Wyoming.

Ten miles later I am sleeping at a rest stop, freezing my ass off, covered only by a thin sheet and 2 bath towels. Four hours after that, I wake up at 5 in the morning to a pretty money sunrise.

So I'm awake, I am pissed that I am now completely behind schedule, and I start driving like a mad man. I drive hard through Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and make it into Washington about 15 hours later (yeah, Montana is a big BIG state). I am just outside Spokane when my car starts throwing itself out of gear again. Lovely. Only this time, it doesn't want to stay in ANY gear, and it doesn't want to go INTO any gear. I pull off, calling my dad telling him what is going on, and try to get some fluid for the transmission (I think of the course of the day it leaked out of the jerry rigged part we made the night before).

THERE ISN'T FLUID ANYWHERE. I use motor oil instead... anything is better than nothing. I fill the trannie up with oil.

I try to put the speedometer cable back in. I can't get it to seat, I cannot bolt it in.

I try to pull it and replace it a different way, but I cannot remove it.

I start to get furious.

I start to yank on it.

I pull my cable off the user interface inside the car and through the god-damn firewall.

I am about to drop a match in my gas tank.

I pull harder. SNAP. The cable comes out, but the plastic piece on the end that meshes with the transmission gears is gone.

It is stuck in the trannie.

I drive anyway. Fuck it.

I end up pulling into Seattle around 11:30 that night, car limping, and excited to be there. I averaged about 16 hours of driving a day for three days, so finally arriving was stellar." __________________________________________________________


Needless to say, it was quite the eventful trip, and mom, you were right, I can now look back and laugh at it.

I've adjusted to Seattle well. I fell in love with it that night, just driving through the I-5 tunnels that shoot beneath the downtown area.

My car is still sitting in the back yard... parked for now. I've used her a few times since arriving here, but those are stories in themselves that I will get to within the week.