Great story,
Here's mine. In September 1982, I drove my Spitfire from Springfield,
Illinois to Seattle and back. What a trip! I actually drove to Paradise.
Paradise at the top of Mt. Rainier. Next down 101 to the Oregon coast and
Cannon Beach and then thru Portland where I bought an aluminum valve cover at
FASPEC's. The Columbia River Gorge and Multunomah Falls left this Midwestern
lad almost breathless and I was inclined to disregard an increasingly loud
rumble from the proximity of the bonnet.
About 5:30 PM the noise and fumes from my exhaust became too much to take.
Arlington, Oregon--next exit. An examination showed the exhaust downpipe
flange was cracked about 95% away from the pipe. A pretty simple weld. The
service station off the interstate said there were a couple welders in town,
but they closed at 5 PM. I decided to take a chance and went looking. All
closed. I couldn't really drive much further with the exhaust gases that
close to the carb. I decided my best bet was to look for a rancher or
farmer, maybe somebody with one of the mailbox posts welded from old parts.
BINGO. Sure enough the first place I stopped a diminutive gentleman of 80+
years came to the door to see what the racket was outside. He hadn't fired
up his torch in several years, but said if I could get the pipe away from the
gas lines, he'd have a crack (no pun intended) at it. We let it cool over a
glass of lemonade as the sun set and went to work. Experience counts. He
did a great job and I was on my way. Several miles down the interstate I
thought the sunset had ended when the Aurora Borealas-Northern Lights erupted
in unheralded glory in an unrestricted viewing panorama. At first I thought
maybe the welding flames or latent CO inhalation was causing sight problems
until I realized that delay let me witness one of nature's most magnificent
sights. I've never seen it since, and may never again, but breakdowns do
have their moments.
Bill Brockschmidt
7 Spits, 1 Jag, 2 Buicks, and a Voyager
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