Three Hundred miles. There was the time I made it this far, limping the last seventy-five miles as the car stalled out three times, before spending the night in a hotel and parking outside the service bay of a Chevy dealer before the sun came up.
Damaged throttle body. I remember when they called them carburetors and you could fix them yourself. Not this one. A cracked oil filler cap let the moisture of a cold February night condense its way through the system to the point where not only the did the engine have to be flushed to get the water out of the oil, but the electronics of the throttle body were fried. I got out of there by noon, with no way to be in time for a two o’clock memorial service another six hundred miles away, so I headed back home.
I’ve made this trip a good dozen times, or more, with few as eventful as that one. I enjoy the nine hundred miles drive to visit with family, especially when I make it past this point with no problems.
passing the hotel
on an uneventful trip
Terre Haute mile marker
The prompt from Sarah (sarahsouthwest) for Journeys – Tuesday Poetics at dVerse is to write about the thoughts or feelings of a particular journey.
Image source: aaroads.com