So, Guido and I drove out to Jackson, MS, to spend our 5-day weekend with my parents. We took his car, which is a standard. I can KIND OF drive a standard, and I thought this long break would be the perfect opportunity to get lots of practice, especially since my parents live in a rural area and I could drive around without having to worry about people being behind me when I killed the engine at a stop sign.
We got off to a late start and wound up in Arcadia, LA, around 9:30 Tuesday evening. We've been driving for roughly three hours, and Guido is getting tired. I've had a nap, but I am REALLY not thrilled about driving a car with a standard transmission in the dark on I-20. I buck up, though, and we exit in Arcadia to switch drivers. Before we go too far, I make sure there is nothing special I am going to need to know in the event of an emergency, like, what if I have to stop suddenly.
I start the car and get back on the highway with little trouble, no stalling or anything (hurray!). Not five minutes after we're back on the highway however, I start to hear a rattling sound.
Now, Guido's car is brand new. Well, it's an '05, but he's had it for like 2 weeks. It's new. It shouldn't be making rattly noises. I ask Guido what the sound is, and he doesn't hear it, so I turn off the radio. Now the sound is getting louder, and I am starting to get worried.
Guido says, "It sounds like a motorcycle is coming up on us." Then, noticing there is no one around, "PULL OVER!"
At this point I am convinced a plane is trying to land on the highway and is right above us, so I have forgotten how to drive. I start shouting that I cannot find the clutch (which is unnecessary to stop, if you don't know), and slide over to the shoulder. I manage to stop, and Guido says, "I think we have a flat tire."
Jesus Christ.
We have managed to, somehow, shred the front left tire. Shredded. We are pulled over near an exit, and think it would be best if we took this exit to get away from the highway traffic (there's not much, but the cars and semis that are on the road are traveling at 70-80 mph), but decide that we would probably damage the actual wheel if we drove very far on it.
Rather than risk our lives trying to change the tire while cars whizz past (because NO ONE is bothering to get the **** into the far lane to go around us), we decide to call the local police and request that a car be sent out to, at the very least, flash his lights and look all important so people will move over and not hit us. This turns out to be a good idea, as we discover after the officer arrives that Guido's jack set is missing the crank and the lug wrench. The officer lets us borrow his and we (Guido and the cop) put the spare tire on in place of the destroyed one.
At this point, we are about 150 miles from our destination and it is 10:30. We know we can't make the drive on a donut because a) that's stupid and b) we'd get to Jackson sometime the next morning. So, I call my dad to let him know we are fixed and he tells us to just rent a room for the night and get up first thing Wednesday morning to have the tire replaced.
At Wal-Mart the next morning, the tire is replaced fairly quickly. When it's done, the guy who worked on the car drives it back into the parking lot while Guido goes inside to pay. As the guy gets out of the car, he notices the back left tire is low and checks the pressure. He offers to fill up the tire, but can't get any air in it.
That's when he discovers the gigantic nail in it.
=) How exciting for us.
We got off to a late start and wound up in Arcadia, LA, around 9:30 Tuesday evening. We've been driving for roughly three hours, and Guido is getting tired. I've had a nap, but I am REALLY not thrilled about driving a car with a standard transmission in the dark on I-20. I buck up, though, and we exit in Arcadia to switch drivers. Before we go too far, I make sure there is nothing special I am going to need to know in the event of an emergency, like, what if I have to stop suddenly.
I start the car and get back on the highway with little trouble, no stalling or anything (hurray!). Not five minutes after we're back on the highway however, I start to hear a rattling sound.
Now, Guido's car is brand new. Well, it's an '05, but he's had it for like 2 weeks. It's new. It shouldn't be making rattly noises. I ask Guido what the sound is, and he doesn't hear it, so I turn off the radio. Now the sound is getting louder, and I am starting to get worried.
Guido says, "It sounds like a motorcycle is coming up on us." Then, noticing there is no one around, "PULL OVER!"
At this point I am convinced a plane is trying to land on the highway and is right above us, so I have forgotten how to drive. I start shouting that I cannot find the clutch (which is unnecessary to stop, if you don't know), and slide over to the shoulder. I manage to stop, and Guido says, "I think we have a flat tire."
Jesus Christ.
We have managed to, somehow, shred the front left tire. Shredded. We are pulled over near an exit, and think it would be best if we took this exit to get away from the highway traffic (there's not much, but the cars and semis that are on the road are traveling at 70-80 mph), but decide that we would probably damage the actual wheel if we drove very far on it.
Rather than risk our lives trying to change the tire while cars whizz past (because NO ONE is bothering to get the **** into the far lane to go around us), we decide to call the local police and request that a car be sent out to, at the very least, flash his lights and look all important so people will move over and not hit us. This turns out to be a good idea, as we discover after the officer arrives that Guido's jack set is missing the crank and the lug wrench. The officer lets us borrow his and we (Guido and the cop) put the spare tire on in place of the destroyed one.
At this point, we are about 150 miles from our destination and it is 10:30. We know we can't make the drive on a donut because a) that's stupid and b) we'd get to Jackson sometime the next morning. So, I call my dad to let him know we are fixed and he tells us to just rent a room for the night and get up first thing Wednesday morning to have the tire replaced.
At Wal-Mart the next morning, the tire is replaced fairly quickly. When it's done, the guy who worked on the car drives it back into the parking lot while Guido goes inside to pay. As the guy gets out of the car, he notices the back left tire is low and checks the pressure. He offers to fill up the tire, but can't get any air in it.
That's when he discovers the gigantic nail in it.
=) How exciting for us.
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