Or...
Ah! Maybelline, why'd ya go back to doin' the things you used to do?
Hey Gang,
So, anyway, the city of San Angelo, Texas has Norwest Bank billboards
everywhere but none of the billboards say just precisely where the actual
banks are located. Yesterday afternoon Janet wanted to find a Norwest because
we are down to about $15 in actual money between us. Janet sees this as a
potential problem area. I, however, have faith in the last PBS show I saw
which said that cash money is no longer required in our society at all.
So, yesterday we drove around San Angelo for a while looking for a Norwest
(actually, Janet was looking for the Norwest, I was just looking) but when we
didn't find it I headed back to the room. I pointed out to Janet that just
about every business takes credit cards nowadays, so all we have to do is
avoid fast food eateries which we both hate anyway. She looks at me like I
just fell off a banana boat, but smiles and says, "OK, back to the room."
Back in the room I spend a few hours with fingers flying then leave a 5 AM
wake-up call. Before turning in, at just about 10 PM, I walk outside and note
that off to the northwest there are almost continuous flashes of lightning but
I am immensely pleased to find the air temp around 80 and the humidity almost
non-existent. Ahhh! Weather like God intended it to be!
I sleep if not like a log, then at least like a large branch and the phone
wakes me at 5 AM on the button. It is about 5:30 when I step outside and get
a face full of rain. But at least the humidity is zero... or maybe a hundred,
depending on how you look at it.
The rain eases off to a light mist and Janet loads the car in the darkness
while I dump in half-a-gallon of water and check the other fluids. Because of
the rain we are a little behind schedule when I push the 'Beamish Boy up into
first and head up the road.
The city streets are clear at this hour and we actually manage to catch a few
of the traffic signals green, something that is almost unheard of on this trip
when I spend so much time with at least one eye on the temp gage. As we head
off to the northwest there is a tremendous amount of lightning ahead and we
know we are in for something. At the city's edge the Alpine's temp is 75
degrees C, a 10 degree improvement over previous readings, doubtless
attributable to the decent ambient air temp.
US 87 north to Big Spring is a four lane road and in pretty decent condition.
The posted limit is 70 and most of the traffic around me is running at around
75. I am firm in my resolve to run at 60 mph but the light rain holds me down
to about 55, running in the right lane. The rain becomes heavier and I slow
down some more as we enter a stretch of deteriorated road several hundred
yards long.
The 'Beam's windshield wipers do a surprisingly good job, largely, I suspect,
because the PO had just installed new blades.
At about 50 mph we suddenly feel 'Beamish lose all contact with the roadway, a
feeling we have already grown to know intimately. Trying to hold my speed
steady I gently move the steering wheel to the left but the roadway bumps me
back to the right bringing the rear end out maybe 10 degrees. I manage to
correct, then get off the gas entirely, just hanging on until we manage to
float on through the worn and rutted section of roadway.
Apparently, that section of road was rutted enough to hold half-an-inch of
water on it and the ruts were bad enough to try to steer the car. I swear
that the next time I say I am going to buy new tires, I am going to buy new
tires! The only reason I delayed the purchase was I wanted to get these old
skins home because they still have a lot of tread left.
Understand, other than the problem with small amounts of standing water, the
car drives and handles very well. No slop in the steering, nothing like that,
and it goes where you point it.
When we manage to get our hearts restarted, we motor on up the highway,
driving the left lane when reasonable, being very wary of damaged sections of
road. After a few miles the road surface improves dramatically and the rain
increases somewhat.
We are zipping along in the rain at about 55 mph on excellent road surface
when the temp gage moves up from 75 C to 85 C, the "normal" operating temp.
Then it moves on up to about 90 C, but, hey, it's raining...
That rainwater rolling all up under my hood, I knew that was doin' my motor
good!
Suddenly the rain abated and the 'Pine's temp jumped up to 120 C, all the way
hot, hotter than it had been for the entire trip. I moved to the left lane,
aiming at a convenience store just ahead, conveniently located dead in the
middle of nowhere. As we coast into the parking lot I cut the engine and roll
to a stop. Thankfully, as the engine stops there are no hissing, clanking, or
knocking sounds.
We have a couple of cups of coffee while the 'Pine cools a bit, then it starts
very readily and I dump in half-a-gallon of water. It is light enough for me
to be able to see that the water is circulating and nothing is spitting back
out of the filler neck, so no blown head gasket and no dead water pump. There
is, of course, rainwater everywhere...
With the temp back down at 75 C we head up the road carrying 2 half-gallons of
water. I make it about 20 miles when the temp jumps up 10 degrees and I
immediately pull over and add half-a-gallon of water despite the now driving
rain. The car's temp, of course, immediately starts coming down...
If you have no concept of "wet hell," let me suggest that standing at the side
of the four-lane dumping water into an Alpine's radiator whilst attempting to
hold the bonnet down far enough to keep the running engine at least a little
bit dryish will do quite nicely. Be sure that your vision includes a semi
hauling by at about 85 mph every 30 seconds.
20 miles farther up the road, the scene repeats except with more rain and I am
no longer amused.
20 miles farther up the road the scene repeats just as the rain stops and we
reach the biggish town of Big Spring, Texas.
I pull into the first convenience store and quickly add water to bring the
temp down. It is, of course, full light by now though still gray and
overcast, getting ready to rain some more. I shut the cooled engine off and
spend a few moments reviewing options.
We are now within about 80 miles of New Mexico and the trip can be considered
moderately successful even if I have to go to Las Cruces and get a trailer to
finish up. But how ignominious... Talk about a soldier being hauled home on
his shield. But clearly, I can't rely on continuing to be able to catch it
just before it overheats to the point of disaster.
While I am thinking I notice a single drop of liquid below the goose-neck
housing the thermostat. Although I have checked this several times in the
last week I look it over again and there is no question that it is leaking
like a sieve. The whole area appears to have been worked on, but I wonder how
tight the sucker may have been torqued? Is it just the gasket or is the
goose-neck itself shot? If it is OK, can I get it off and on again without
damaging it? To be honest, I am somewhat famous for breaking the ears off the
suckers...
Very reluctantly, I finally break down and add some Bars Leak. I don't like
to use the stuff but don't really see an alternative. I let the car run a few
minutes and the leak is either sealed or diminished to the point of almost
nothing.
"Boots and saddles," I call as I head for the driver's seat. Janet climbs in
and off we go in search of a parts house. No, I am not crazy enough to think
they are going to have anything for this car but I do want to pick up some
gasket material in case I wind up wrenching on this sucker at the side of the
road.
The ambient air temp and humidity are now such that I am reasonably confident
that I could survive such an experience, so what the hell?
We find an Auto Zone (no H.E.B. in sight) where I am able to purchase $7 worth
of gasket material (it only comes in an assortment pack) in just about half-
an-hour (they were having computer problems and I was paying by credit card).
Well, at least the car is nice and cool when we head out again.
Oh, yeah, I buy a 1/2" wrench, too. Sure, the 'Pine's tool roll has one of
those King Dick's wrenches but I am afraid that if I have to use that little
dude I will learn all too rapidly why it is called a "Dick" wrench.
Now carrying 2 gallons of water, we hit Texas 176 heading west. The two-lane
road starts out bad but quickly becomes very good. The weather clears
substantially, the pavement dries out, and the car zooms along at 75 degrees
C. Forty miles up the road, 'Beamish is still running below 85 C when we
reach the small town of Andrews and I realize I am starving to death.
Would you believe that the only restaurant we can find is a Burger King?
True, we didn't look too hard, but the main drag in that town is severely
eatery challenged. We pull in, shut down, and go inside to order. As we are
examining the listing of luscious viands posted on the big menu board it
suddenly occurs to us (Janet, actually) that we don't have any money...
Remember those cups of coffee? That extra gallon of water?
We pool resources and scrounge up enough bucks to buy a tasteless lunch which
we wolf down before hopping back into the 'Beam to head on up the road as
Janet sits over there, surrounded by water bottles, and thinks "I told you
so." She does not say it, but she thinks it. We have been married over 33
years and I know what she thinks...
As we leave Andrews -- one of the few places Janet has looked over and decided
she would not live there, no way -- the road is smooth and good and I reach up
to the dashboard, pull the ignition key out and hang it on the choke knob.
Janet laughs to beat the band. "What," she finally asks, "is that all about?"
I explain the thinking behind the move and she laughs a while longer. "Well,"
she says, "I think that is really... cool. It must count for something, must
make the car run faster or cooler or something. I like it." She continues to
think it is funny until I point out that as co-pilot and navigator one of her
jobs is to stick the key back in the ignition switch and shut the engine down
if we have a wreck. That is why I have hung it on the choke... the choke is
close to her, easy to reach. She wants to know why, if we have a wreck, I
can't put it back in myself and I point out that I will be far too busy trying
to find the fire extinguisher which she has buried behind my seat.
Lord knows where this discussion would have gone had we not entered an area of
really, really stinky oil wells and tank farms. As we roll along bitching
about the stink Janet spots a sign on the gate to a tank farm that reads,
"CAUTION! POISONOUS GAS!" Now, that is reassuring. Just how poisonous do
you reckon it is?
About 20 miles later we are loafing along at 65 mph, car temp at 80 degrees C,
when we cross into New Mexico and two things happen: First, the gray skies
clear and the sunshine comes streaming down. Second, the road goes to hell in
a hand basket.
Who'd a thunk it? You leave Texas and the road gets worse? Yup, I am here to
testify. But, shhhh! Don't let the Texans find out!
A few rough miles later we enter the small town of Eunice, NM and Janet points
to a neat little gray building on the left side of the road. Without comment
I pull into the parking lot of the tiny little Norwest bank. Janet smiles a
little and seems about to say something when I point out that I needed a
bathroom anyway... If she wants to cash a check whilst I am in the john, why,
that would be perfectly fine, too.
We are clutching a fistful of dead presidents when we get back to the car
where I release the Granny Joad special-deluxe hood latch and pop the bonnet
to add a couple of pints of water. Sigh...
An older gent, also clutching green, comes out of the bank and asks what's up.
I tell him I am having a little trouble keep the car cool and he wants details
which I sort of mumble as I close the bonnet. He asks what kind of car it is
but I know he already knows as I heard him carrying on about it inside the
bank when I came out the restroom. I heard him asking the girl at the
counter, "Who belongs to that great little Sunbeam Alpine?" Then Janet talked
to him for a few minutes before following me outside.
So, as I move around the car I tell him, "Itsa Sunbeam Alpine."
He says, "Well, I know that's what it's called, I wanna know what kinda car it
IS."
I have to admit that I am no longer following the conversation and,
exasperated, the old boy says, "You know, like I drive an old green Cadillac."
"Well," I say as I get the door open and start folding myself in, "Sunbeams
were made in England..."
"Say no more, say no more," the old boy says as he holds his hand up, palm
toward me. "I've heard all I need to hear."
OK.
As we leave Eunice the road improves dramatically and I find I am unable to
keep my speed down to 60 mph, my desired cruising speed. The car's temp stays
below 80 degrees C, the sun shines, the pavement is smooth and dry, and I
decide to modify my desired cruising speed to match what is actually going on
in the real world.
So, we beat it toward Carlsbad, NM at about 75 mph and the world is good.
By the time we pass through Carlsbad and reach White's City, gateway to the
Carlsbad Caverns, we have covered 317 miles in about 8 hours. At that point I
realized that we had completely missed the motel where we held confirmed
reservations... But hey, there was another motel in White's City, which is
where I now sit and slave over a hot keyboard.
Total 'Beamish miles now stand at 1,899.
Tomorrow we run south through the Franklin Mountains, back into Texas, then
back into New Mexico. Tomorrow, God willing, we will be home...
--Colin Cobb, Getting Ready To Drive The 'Beam Up To The Caverns Where The
Bats May Be Getting Ready To Fly...
|