newstalk

Easter Sunday began at 9:30am with Steve, my ride, banging on my door. My alarm, once set for 8:30am, made not a peep. After a minute of confusion, I suddenly realized the time and remembered that church starts at 9:45am. Oops.

5 minutes later, I was clothed, though unwashed and unshaved. Too bad. We made it to church on time, though we had to sit in the balcony. The good news: with the extra hour of sleep after the previous late night, I had no trouble staying awake in the service.

After the service, I helped the crew tear the stage down, as I was hitching a ride to Easter dinner at J.J.’s with Andy and Danilo. The truck had broken down, so Danilo went with Lou the Lawyer to get Lou’s SUV. We loaded up the trailer and then carpooled over to the parking spot. At that point, Danilo treated us to his mad trailer-backing skills– no hesitations, no pulling forward to straighten out, everything precise and right the first time. We stood in awe.

Then, we all piled into Andy’s little sedan and headed off to Elgin, IL, out on the western edge of Chicagoland. There, J.J.’s mom magically fed about 25 of us, managing to stuff us all into an enchanted stupor, sprawled out about the house. When we could move again, about half of us went on a walking tour of Elgin’s “historical” neighborhoods. Cool houses, all 80+ years old. Back at the house, there was carrot-cake and tea waiting for us. Stuffed again. Oof.

Finally, James decided to leave, and several of us decided we should go with him, in case J.J.’s mom suddenly appeared with more food. We were about halfway between Elgin and Wheaton, on the highway, when I heard a

WHACKSHUFFLETHUD FLAPFLAPFLAP

“Did you guys hear that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said James. “And why is my Alternator light on?”

It all made perfect sense. “It’s because your fan belt just snapped. Turn off your lights and the radio– we’re running on the battery now. The car’s probably going to over-heat. Don’t speed.” (DISCLAIMER: I probably didn’t actually sound that suave, but I didn’t memorize the conversation or anything, so I’m dramatizing for effect.)

James: “I think we can make it back.”

Me: “Are you sure we shouldn’t stop?”

James: “I think we can make it back.”

Me: “Okay.”

Five minutes later, liquid started spewing out the front of the hood onto my side of the windshield. “James?” I asked.

He flicked on the windshield wipers. His side was still dry. The passenger-side wiper flopped around uselessly, with half the rubber squeegee flapping in the wind.

“I don’t think that’s going to work,” I said. He turned them off. I peered more closely at the fluid. It had a greenish tinge. “Oh. That’s antifreeze.”

“Well, that’s not good,” James said.

“You sure we shouldn’t stop?”

“I think we can make it.”

We drove in silence for awhile. Eventually, conversation resumed, and we all decided to drop off the car at a mechanic in downtown Wheaton. Becky piped up, suggesting that we pick up her car over at COD, then she could follow us over and give us rides home. We agreed that it was a sound plan.

By the time we reached COD, the car was making very odd sounds. When we stopped, we left the motor running. James popped the hood. We got out to inspect the engine. Coolant was pouring out onto the ground. “Uh,” I said. “Let’s go,” said James.

We jumped back into the car, forgetting to re-latch the hood. We left COD with Becky following, and got back to Roosevelt Rd. The engine was sounding very unpleasant now. James’ driving turned more desperate. The hood was bouncing up and down. In a new development, wisps of white vapor wafted from the front of the car when we stopped. Steam? Or smoke? “Stay in the right lane, and don’t speed,” I recommended.

“I think we can make it,” said James. He leaned on the horn to warn an SUV from cutting in front of us. At the next light, he turned right, into the neighborhoods.

“Neighborhoods are good,” I said. Breaking down in the neighborhoods would be better than breaking down on Roosevelt, I thought. Meanwhile, I glanced back. Becky was nowhere in sight. “Does she know where we’re going?”

“Probably not,” said James.

“Okay.” The hood bounced up and down more. “Is that going to stay?”

“Yeah. It’s got a good latch.”

“Okay.”

Finally, we were in downtown Wheaton. Sunday traffic was light. We California-stopped at all the intersections. Suddenly, James stopped and threw the car into a heavy-turning power-steering-unassisted U-ie. “I missed the turn.”

Heading in the opposite direction now, we ran a red light and pulled into the shop driveway. James parked by the fence and turned off the car. Awful noises continued to sound from the engine compartment. “That’s strange.” We all got out.

Steam poured from the hood now. We stood at a good distance, eyeing it suspiciously. “I don’t think we should open it,” said James.

“Well, I dunno.” I felt the hood. It wasn’t hot, though coolant was still spitting furiously from underneath. “I think the coolant’s just boiling.” I cautiously snaked my hand in and unlatched the hood.

It raised up.

Nothing happened. The coolant overflow tank burbled and shook.

“Well,” I said.

“Yeah,” said James.

At that point, Becky pulled into the driveway behind us. She rolled down her window.

“We thought we lost you,” I said.

“I circled around until I found you,” she said.

“Great,” said James. “Thanks.”

“I think I’m going to walk home,” said Danny, who had kept quiet for most of the ordeal.

James and I left with Becky. The fate of his car remains to be seen.

Possibly related:

• Riches and Glory.
• Adventures in Chicagoland.
• Home again, home again, jiggety jig.
• Civilization at Tenmile Point.
• Happy Mmmhmmm Day

On April 21st, 2003, this was the truth (Tags: Andy, California, Danilo, Danny, Easter, Easter Sunday, Elgin, food, Illinois, rubber squeegee flapping, stupor) | | Subscribe to comments | Both comments and pings are currently closed