Sergio's Camaro story reminds me of one of my own horror stories (aren't
we all famous and/or idiots for a day?) Here is the scene. I am 15
years old, know lots about cars, having learned to drive our 1950
Hillman Minx. My mother is driving to pick up dad, and I am the
passenger. Just as we get into the parking lot of dad's office, the
throttle cable breaks. Normally this would not be a large problem; the
throttle would close, and the car would idle. Not on this one. The
throttle flips wide open, and stays there. Mom has the foresight to
put it in neutral, so we don't become another road kill statistic, and
yells at me to "do something". Well I certainly know what and where the
carburetor is, and jump out of the passenger side to open the bonnet and
pull the linkage closed. Oops! even Hillmans have bonnet latches. I go
over to mom's side of the car, and yell "pull the bonnet latch". Ma has
trouble hearing me ( the muffler was more than a little tired, and the
engine was turning over at light speed), so I ran around to the
passenger side, and tried to scramble in and pull the latch. Oops
again! That doorhandle broke off before we even laid down our 50 bucks
to drive the car home. About this time, a kindly person who apparently
behaved calmer under pressure than us, reached in through the drivers
window, and turned off the key.
The cable broke at least twice more that I remember (I was was old
enough to drive solo by then). I became quite adept driving at full
throttle. There was a sequence, take arm from around girl, switch off
key, depress clutch, shift gear, release clutch, turn key back on, use
lurching motion initiated by car to flop arm back around girl, repeat
for each gear.
The electrical problems this car had will be another story someday.
Terry McKitrick
Series I
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