I got to add another notch to my belt today. I have been keeping a running tally in my head of all the redneck type activities that I have participated in since marrying my country boy. Today topped the "Chevy Water Pump in the Kitchen Sink" incident by far.
We had a pickup truck that apparently had the transmission go out this weekend. Of course it happened in a town about 30 miles away. The truck sat at a business over the weekend and so we had to go take care of it today.
We drove over there, hoping that the feared diagnosis wasn't true and that we would be able to just drive it home. Stephen hopped in and started it, and, much to the delight of the crew with me, it took off down the road. We stopped about 50 yards later and pulled off. He couldn't get it far enough off the road, so I had to push him with my vehicle. Fun.
After much consideration and adding several bottles of cure-all that were suggested by some of his favorite car experts, we realized that there was only one thing to do. Since the truck would only go in reverse, that would be how we had to get it home. We figured out the best, most remote back roads to take. I started singing: "Country roads, take me home."
Stephen is an expert at driving in reverse. He gets that from his many hours spent pushing snow in parking lots-- back and forth, back and forth. However, I could tell his neck was getting tired after the first several miles.
It took us about an hour and a half to make a trip that usually takes us about 25 minutes. We drove many roads that I had never been on before. We got a grand tour of all the farm land between Keokuk and Kahoka. I'm sure we will be the fodder of many an interesting conversation over the neighboring fence as one farmer asks another, "Hey, did you see what drove past yesterday?" Of course, our vehicles proudly advertise "S & D Seamless Gutters" on the side. 'Wonder how many calls we'll get from that area as a result?
Our kids kept worrying that a policeman might see us. I wondered what they might be able to stop us for. Maybe improper lane usage? Maybe just driving too slowly? I'm glad we didn't have to find out.
We stopped just before reaching our town and added a tow rope and I pulled him the rest of the way. We've seen many other vehicles pulled through town like that to know that it was all right.
Now the dilemma faces us, fixing the transmission. I am starting to imagine more nights cooped up in the damp basement, Dr. D bent over a greasy pile of cogs and gears. I, his trusty assistant, handing him his tools and holding the light trained on the interior of the beast. Sounds like another episode of "Night of the Killer Transmission" is on its way. But, you'll get that in a small town.