Sometimes Things Just Blow Up

I hope my friend Bill doesn't have a heart attack when he sees I am actually posting to my blog 2 days in a row. Usually he sends me an e-mail reminding me I need to post. 

So we were headed down I-40 toward Oklahoma City and once in a while singing "Oklahoma". Maybe some people would not call it singing but we try.

Somewhere about 10 miles west of El Reno, OK the car started making a noise and the "oil" light came on. We stopped at the next exit and pulled up to an island of gas pumps. The pumps had "out of order" signs on them but Sis 2 decided she would just get gas on down the road, but would add oil here. 

She added (oh the horror!) 5 quarts of oil then got in the car announcing "Hey, we are really good now! It's ABOVE full!!". I kind of intimated that was really not a good thing but Sis 2 is a bit set in her ways and I decided to keep my mouth shut. 

Back on the road the noise sort of quieted then got louder. We passed a sign telling us it was now 8 miles to El Reno and I suggested to Sis 2 she might want to slow to maybe 50 or even better 40 mph to increase our chances of getting to El Reno. 

Her response was to accelerate to 80. Then she grinned and said "See? It smooths out fine about 80!" About that time I heard things hitting the pavement behind us and smoke started coming out from under the car. 

"What's that?" 

"You blew up your car" I said as the engine died.

"What do I DO now?"

"Get over on the shoulder as far as you can!" 

She managed to get on the shoulder and got it a bit on the far right outer edge as the momentum of the car ended and the smoke became more intense.

"Get out FAST!" I yelled, "It might go up in flames!" I grabbed my purse and the chihuahua (Yes, we were traveling with Sissy's Chihuahua, Honey Ruth) and exited the car. We stood there as the smoke turned black, I was backing away and pulling Sis with me then the smoke slowed. Oil could be seen dripping from under the car and we were thanking God we had not filled the tank with gas. 

After determining we were not going to catch on fire we went back to the car and sat down. 

"I've never blown up a car before, have you?" 

I realize that even if I am the youngest sister some of my uh, "life experiences" were probably off the radar of my older sisters so I admitted that I had, indeed, blown up cars. Plural. 4 to be exact. 
The first 3 had been while I was married to my first husband, Ed. He and his family were mechanics and sometimes they bought junk cars that still had a few miles left in them and they would restore them. Along the way, I would drive them in the meantime. When I pulled into the yard with the latest victim there was never any criticism, it was just another day at the garage. My 4th victim was a 1987 Mercury Cougar. It was white with a burgundy top and burgundy interior. I loved it. My 3rd (also a mechanic) bought it from his boss. There was a slight knock in the engine but the boss insisted it had been there since the car was new and 88,000 miles is, really, nothing. 

Until the morning several months later when we were on our way to work and the slight knock became a big knock and that was the end of my Cougar. 

So once Sis 2 knew she was not alone in the "I Blew Up A Car" club it seemed to calm her a bit. 

She called AAA and they were, as always, so very helpful. The nice lady quickly dispatched a tow truck and they let us know when the truck headed our way so we were going to be rescued soon. 

Fortunately the weather was nice and we were comfortable waiting in the car. I was keeping an eye out for the tow truck and he arrived in about 20 minutes and as most of us know, that is great time. 

The driver was great. he was prompt, he was very polite, and once he understood we were just rolling with the punches and pretty much laughing at the situation he was joking with us. 

He got the car hoisted and got in the truck and I was attempting to follow. 

Attempting. I have been too long off the farm. Or trucks grew. Or it might be the fact that I am (very openly)  a Fat Lady. 

I reached up and grabbed the hand hold, put my right foot in the door and attempted to gracefully swing into the truck seat. Attempted... I could not lift my butt high enough to slide into the seat. 

Attempt 2 - I grabbed the hand hold, put in my left foot, pushed off the ground with my right foot and again made a mighty swing for the truck seat. I still could not manage to lift my butt that high.

Okay, Maybe there was a lack of "pull" in the proper direction. I grabbed the hand hold with my right hand, reached across the seat and the driver grabbed it, I put my right foot in the truck and made a mighty swing and still no luck. By now I was laughing so hard I couldn't do anything. I finally gave up and crawled into the truck on my knees and managed to get myself on the seat - still laughing. 

Sis 2, however, grabbed the handhold, swung into the truck in one smooth motion like a gymnast. 

El Reno - here we come!