Excerpts
from the July 1998 Hudson Spoken Here
From
The President
By
Dave
Last month I mentioned that I was too
2BZBZBZ, conflicts with work are preventing me from attending the regional and national
meets. What I didn’t tell you was that I
told Glen that I was running out of things to write about.
This statement is definitely not true for this month. The ICE-T car tour had promise; perhaps Greg will
give us a write-up on this trip. My effort to
join the tour for the weekend went from a simple vacation to a rescue mission of epic
proportions.
My story begins on the afternoon of
Friday, 26 June 1998. I rushed home, after a
half-day of overtime, in order to pack my things and hit the road. My son and nephew were passengers; they were going
as far as Idaho Falls so that they could spend the week with their Aunt. My car, the ’51 Pacemaker, had a new exhaust
system, refurbished cooling system, new spark plugs, new cables and a lot of TLC. Even with all of this I still packed a small set of
tools for some unexpected emergency. Driving
to Idaho Falls I learned that, contrary to what I stated last month, my Pacemaker still
likes to run at the 3/4 mark on the temperature gauge while traveling long distances. My worries of Malad Pass were quickly put to ease
as the car climbed the pass at 60 mph. While
driving over the pass my temperature gauge did go above the 3/4 mark but it quickly
dropped to the 3/4 mark at the summit. Upon
arriving at Idaho Falls I learned that my water level in the radiator was low once
again…
[The next morning] with Freeman as
my Guiding Eyes [see footnote], or should I say navigator, we started off on our leg of
the trip. Things couldn’t have been
better as we started out that morning cruising across the countryside. I was proud of the little 232 engine as we cruised
up [the hill] to Grand Targee Pass at speeds varying from 50 to 60 mph. As we reached the summit the engine started running
faster and faster and… My first thought
was the increased engine RPM was natural, after all we were going down hill. That’s when I noticed that the car was going
slower and slower and slower. This was
definitely not the place to adjust the clutch. After
a lot of useless thinking it was time to jack the car up and see what I could do. The bumper jack was not designed to lift the car
very high, but it was high enough that I could check the linkage. Naturally I couldn’t find any adjustments so I
lowered car, put everything away, and tried to drive once again. The car convinced me that it was not going to fix
itself. So here I was at 7600 feet, in the
middle of nowhere. This is when my angel of
mercy, my loving wife came into the picture. Marj
had insisted that I take her cellular phone, to which I learned that if I held it at the
right angle I could get a connection. The
connection was not the best; it took me three phone calls home to get Ken’s phone
number (one of the closest HET members).
Ken was able to give me some basic
information and I once again jacked the car up to look for the clutch adjustment. After locating the adjustment, I turned it all the
way in one direction and reconnected the linkage. Then,
like the overly confident person that I am, I lowered the car, put everything away and
once again tried to continue on my journey. I
was facing down hill, the brake was off, the engine was running and the car would not
move.
So once again, I unpacked the tools,
jacked the car up, and tried to adjust the linkage in the other direction. This is when I learned that the prior adjustment
was the correct adjustment for tightening the clutch.
And once again I packed everything up but this time I left the linkage
disconnected.
George Amen is one of the best
people you could ever hope for when you call for a towing service… George operates
his towing service from his home in Ashton, ID. He
was very supportive and offered me the use of his tools if I wanted to change the clutch
in his yard. Having replaced two Hudson
clutches in the past (i.e. I knew what I was getting into) and not having the parts made
this an adventure I was not ready to pursue.
It is time for the heroine to re-enter the
picture. I kept wishing Ryan was a couple of
years older so that I could call him Cary Jr. Cary is someone who seems to always be
there to bail his dad out of trouble. However
Ryan is not yet at the age where he can rescue his father.
Marj left home at approximately 2:00 p.m. to come to the rescue. While waiting for Marj I called Glen and made
arrangements to borrow his trailer. Marj,
Freeman and I arrived home at about 11:30 p.m. on Saturday.
On Sunday morning I packed the Jeep
so that Freeman and I could start off on another’s day adventure. This time Sabrina decided that she wanted some
quality time with her father and joined me for my return trip to Idaho. While picking up the trailer Glen graciously
offered the services of Cary. An offer I
seriously considered but I declined since I was already packed and ready to go.
Sabrina, Freeman and I left Brigham
City and continued on our journey. The lemon
(my Jeep – “It’s a Jeep Thing”) rattled and banged like usual. After getting gas in Pocatello the Jeep tried
stalling while going up the Freeway on-ramp. At
the time I blamed it on the float level in the carburetor.
The rattling continued, and at one point, about 10 miles outside of Ashton,
ID there was a banging sound and a jarring after effect.
Then everything returned to normal so I was wondering if it could possibly
be the mechanical brake arrangement on the trailer. The
journey continued, we picked up the Hudson and started on our return trip home.
I stopped for lunch in Idaho Falls
where I was offered $100 for the Hudson. I
turned the offer down. As I continued on my
journey I was becoming concerned that my lemon had let me down more times than I cared to
count. 119 miles to the border, 118 miles to
the border, etc. as I watched the mileage markers. My
main concern was getting over Malad pass.
We never made it to Malad Pass. Shortly before the Blackfoot exit the transmission
banged and I lost all power to the wheels. And
then a miracle happened, or so the Jeep wanted me to believe. The Jeep once again had power to the wheels but as
I drove up and down the streets of Blackfoot I was convinced that I was not getting back
on the freeway. At this point I called the
hero Cary and the heroine Marj. Cary quickly
left Brigham City while my wife not so anxiously awaited another late night phone call to
come pick me up in Brigham City. Marj and I
decided that my Jeep had seen its last days so there it sits in a grocery store parking
lot waiting to be picked up to become spare parts for other unfortunate Jeep owners.
Cary arrived at approximately 9:00
p.m. and we were quickly on our way. Cary felt
bad about leaving the Jeep and offered to tow it home also.
I declined the offer. I told him
that I had already paid for one engine overhaul and two transmission overhauls on the Jeep
and if I took it home I would probably pay for a third transmission overhaul. 11:30 p.m. found us pulling into Malad Idaho
looking for some desperately needed gasoline. As
luck would have it the service stations were closed. Cary
and I began looking for a means to drain the gas from the Hudson while seriously beginning
to believe that we would end up spending the night in the pickup. Meanwhile Sabrina walked up to the dimly lit gas
pumps and noticed that they were still on for credit card purchases.
We arrived at Brigham City at
approximately 12:30 a.m. where the heroine once again picked up her family and took them
on the remaining one hour drive to home.
Footnote: Freeman was the Guide Dog for
the Blind puppy that we were raising and training.
