Thar She Blows

Okay, so I didn't see any whales. But my car did blow a gasket. At least, that's what the mechanic figured. He couldn't be sure, unless I forked out twenty-five hundred dollars, so he could take the engine apart to see what ailed it.

I was on my way home, when all of a sudden the car died. It coasted to the side of the road. When I restarted it, a rattle could be heard under the hood when I drove off. It died again and hobbled to the side of the road. This time I got out, popped up the hood and looked inside. Some steam, but no other clues.

The wise physician engaged his mental faculties. I'd just wait for my car to get over it's hissy fit, then restart the car and slowly drive it to the nearest service station. Even a wimpy engine could make it if I was easy on it. This strategy worked for about one minute before the car died a third time. Now the dial on the dash indicated it was running a fever; Damn! I pushed it too hard. Now my car was really sick, and I was the reason. An hour later I was sitting in the cab of a tow truck next to the driver. My old car dragged along till she found a place to rest at a car hospital nearby. The mechanic said her condition was terminal, and I had to let her go. It was difficult, but I managed.

Until later.