justalonewolf007
Member
- Apr 30, 2007
- 657
- 0
Bear with me, as this the details of this one are a little sketchy in my head!
Having recovered slightly from the Thief River Falls adventure, the little CR and I found ourselves heading back up to Greenbush MN for the sixth adventure on our list.
The escort was really ailing now, and I had to make the entire 1.5 hour trip with my heater on full blast to keep the poor thing from overheating. It wasn’t terribly hot out, but the heater in that little car worked so fantastically that I had to pull over and turn the car off a couple times just so I could breathe and dispel the dizzy feeling.
I was extremely relieved when I pulled into the gates, and was greeted by the armband group. Smiles and greeting words were exchanged, and I began writing out the check for my gate fee. I glanced up just in time to see the heat gauge rising into the red, and quickly turn the heater on full blast again to try get the temperature back to an acceptable level.
This is when my poor little car blew its heater core for the second time. As I handed the check to the guy standing there, my windshield fogged completely up, and the telltale scent of antifreeze gusted into the cabin.
“Nooooooooo!!!! Little Car!?! What were you thinking!?!? This is NOT the time to be doing that!!!”
I quickly pulled into the first decent parking spot I found, and shut the ‘Scort off completely. With a frustrated growl, I decided that it would be better to leave the car alone and make the rounds to cool my jets a little. I wasn’t terribly angry, just rather stressed that my car had decided to pee itself so far from home.
I made it all of 20 feet away before the guy that had helped me at the previous race showed up and boisterously gave me a good morning and a slap on the back.
“How yah doin’ kiddo!!?”
“Ah…okay I guess? My car kinda peed itself. I don’t know how bad it really is, but I..”
By the time I was about to explain what had happened, his attention had already shifted to another set of racers, so I went to fill out the forms for the day. I was warmly greeted in the registration trailer, and even got some unexpected pity when I explained my little Escort’s dilemma.
After that, I made a quick round of the track. It was a little slippery walking, but with the sun quickly gaining power as it rose, and warming my back, I began to wonder if it wasn’t going to be a little on the dry side of things. Almost everything else looked about the same as it had the previous two races. The last two portions of the big triple somehow looked softer, as if someone had deflated them slightly. As I looked more closely, I saw that someone HAD filled in the gaps slightly, making it a better landing for those who came up short!
Seeing that lifted my spirits slightly, and I continued my walk until I had made it back to the track exit nearest my sickly car. It looked even greener than usual, which finally convinced me to pick up my cell phone and call the first person on my “oh crap!” list.
“Uh…Hey dad? My car peed itself. Yep – the heater core again. It was overheating on my way here too. Yes, I think someone here can help me bypass it…Okay…Thanks…”
I unleashed the little CR, and put it next to my trailer, unpacking my race gear and setting it nearby. The parking was really starting to fill up quickly now, with the low growl of souped up pickups idling by.
(As I’m writing this, I paused for a second, and looked at what I was typing – I had written “and the chairs are walking!!” Maybe I need to get more sleep!).
Due to the fact that it was the Fourth, almost all of the younger riders had either taped a flag to their helmet, chest protector, or both. It was a cool idea, but there were no extra flags to be found.
“Nuts. That would’ve been cool.” “HEY! *THUMP!!* What would’ve been cool?!”
The fast 250 rider from the first Greenbush race had come up behind me and given me the soundest thumping on the back that I’d ever received. After regaining normal breathing patterns, I explained the flags a little, and she agreed. We ended up talking for a little while; ends up she had quite a bit of history with dirtbikes, and had even ridden a CR 80 that was only a year newer than mine. Time passed quickly and we almost got caught being late for practice.
If it hadn’t been for the “Pin it!” quad rider, we would’ve missed it completely.
Four other girls were lined up at the gate by the time I got there. The fast 250 rider, and the Canadian 250 rider that had shown up at the Casino race just the other day. Also present was the KTM 125 rider, and a new addition was riding a small thumper (125?) Suzuki. The latter of which was wearing bright pink gear.
Practice was pretty uneventful, but I could tell that my riding was progressing a little. The little CR ate up the first doubles with glee as I gave them each a triumphant “AIEYAH!” Coming around the corner, however, I backed off quite a bit and rolled through the triple with a less than triumphant “YIKE!” as I teetered over the launch.
I shook it off, and scolded myself through the next corner and straight section, navigating the next corner just smoothly enough to avoid completely casing the double that came after it. “C’mon little CR we’ve gotta pick it up or we’re gonna get squished or lapped or something!”
I heard the Suzuki steadily behind me, which served to push me just a little harder. The whoops went okay, but I didn’t get a good line up for the big tabletop, and got shy. The nose of the little CR went down much more quickly than I expected. My heroic Aieyah turned into a squeak of fear. “AIEYeeek!”
It served to put my attention more firmly back on my riding.
The next lap went the same, but I heard and saw the bigger bikes approaching quickly. For a moment, I considered easing up a little and letting them pass before the finishline, but decided that I could use all the practice I could get. Somehow, the little CR and I managed to stay ahead long enough to get in our last lap.
I pulled off the track, and was greeted by the quad rider and his wife. We threw track opinions back and forth while I caught my breath. We both agreed that the track was going to get dry, and get dry quickly. I tapped the CR’s front fender to get its attention and commented, “Y’hear that? It’s going to get kinda slippery. Be careful!”
I got a few laughs out of my companions and a few odd looks from the people standing close by. Then they brought up the triple. “You gonna take that thing PinIt?” I shook my head in a quick and definite no reply. “Ah…it’s still big. How about you?” He gave it an eye over, then replied, “I didn’t try it during practice, but I think I can make it now ‘long as I don’t freeze up. The other guys weren’t hitting it all that fast.”
I parked the little CR, telling it “stay” as I walked to make the rounds again. After greeting the newcomer and giving what little advice I could offer, I went to talk to a few of the other racers. Sanford, the helpful guy from the Casino race, gave me quite a bit to think about, but too much of it was above my level of riding. I found the fast 250 rider, 589, standing by my trailer talking to the quad rider and his wife when I went back for a drink.
“Hey! Trophies are sponsored today! If you beat two of us, you’ll get one!”
The chances of my beating one of the bigger bikes were pretty slim, so I laughed and shrugged. “Yea probably not going to happen this time around, but thanks for letting me know!” We sat and traded more stories for a while as the motos literally flew past. Strangely enough, the bleachers were really starting to fill up as the day passed. It made me a little nervous, but I brushed it off as our first moto approached.
The quad rider went out and came back. The grin on his face was bigger than the engine in his quad, and I knew that he’d doubled the triple, and hadn’t crashed. “It’s NICE and EASY PinIt!” I gave him a salute and a bow. “Sweet!”
589 turned to me just as she was leaving to prep her bike and said “I can do it easy in 2nd gear, so for you just have it in 3rd or even revved high in 2nd and you’ll clear it easy!”
Soon we were lined up behind the gates, and I had to laugh, thinking of how I had thought we were supposed to somehow ride over them at the first race. “Remember that little CR? Ha! We’re real racers now, even if we do still ride like goons!” This must have distracted me a little, because I got a fairly poor start. Determination kicked however, and I went into attack mode even before my rear tire had cleared the metal tubing of the gate.
“AIEYAH!!!”
I came into the corner just behind the big bikes, with the Suzuki just beside me on the inside. She got ahead by taking the inside of the corner, but drifted into my line as we came towards the triple. I had been completely determined to take it this time around, but had to back off the throttle or go off the track. To my surprise, the Suzuki rider tried to make the double, but fell short of the landing, and cartwheeled her bike. That was the deciding factor for me, and all thoughts of making the attempt fled my mind like a deer with wolves in pursuit.
The rest of the race was rather a lonely one. I lost sight of the bigger bikes, and the Suzuki rider crashed just as I was coming up behind her again. I stayed well enough ahead the bigger bikes that I never heard them, and on the last lap, I saw the Suzuki rider pushing her bike across from the center of the track.
It was almost relieving to see the checkered flag as I crossed the finish line.
During the break, I called my dad again, and then the other number on my “Oh crap!” list. The boyfriend came an hour later and brought parts to bypass the faulty heater core. With that, he left to go back to where he’d been staying, leaving me to prepare for my last moto. As he left, I heard the telltale sound of a panic rev, and turned just in time to see the entire group of people on the bleachers stand in unison.
The ambulance quickly followed.
“Nuts.”
I walked over to the fence in an attempt to see what was going on without getting in the way, but there was already a solid line. The moto was red-flagged, and a long delay followed. “Nuts again.”
Finally the crowd split, and out limped the Canadian rider that had won the first woman’s moto! A temporary sling had been fixed up for her, and she was escorted into the other ambulance. (If I recall correctly, we had two because of the large number of crashes during one of the previous races here.).
My jaw dropped. With the pink rider’s DNF, and the Canadian’s broken arm, I realized that third place would be mine. About four seconds after the thought had occurred, one of the race organizers came to let me know. “All you have to do is finish! You’re going to get one of the cool trophies! We made them with a special design for today!”
“But it’s kinda one of the more crummy ways to get one isn’t it?”
I felt somewhat badly about the situation, but she eased my feelings by explaining that I was going to earn it by not crashing. (Here I offer my get well soon wishes to the Canadian rider who broke her arm! Author’s note: she made a pretty good and quick recovery too!).
With that, the gates dropped, and the motos were started again. As I passed, pushing the little CR along beside me, the quad rider yelled “Hey! Just pin it! You’ll be fine!” I needed the encouragement, so I stopped long enough to give him another salute and a grin in thanks.
There were just three riders at the gate now, and the clothespin lady was already becoming excited over the possibility of my getting a trophy.
I picked the spot just outside the gateman, to get a straighter shot at coming into the first corner. The red light came on, and I fired up the little CR, letting it warm up as I shook my arms to loosen my muscles up the way I used to as a swimmer. I turned to watch the last riders approach the last few turns, and I readied myself for the yellow light, finding the point of release in the clutch, and feathering it until the green light shone.
The gates dropped, and the little CR and I shot out much faster than I had before.
I lost a little distance when the front end popped up on me, but I rolled the throttle on even harder than before when it came back down. I came over the doubles and into the corner just behind the two bigger bikes, and hardly lost any speed in the first corner.
As soon as I looked up, I committed for the triple, and pinned it.
To this day, I really have no idea why or when I decided to do it.
A movement caught the corner of my eye, and I saw Marlin (the big race organizer who’s been watching out for me from the start), running up towards the triple. Somehow that was rather reassuring for me as I flew towards the base just behind the big bikes. If I crashed, he would be there even before I landed. Heck, at the rate he was going I began to wonder if he would attempt to catch me mid air.
“AIEYAH!!!”
I was terrified, yet felt downright incredible at the same time!
The landing was smooth, and I couldn’t hold an excited fist pump as I came barreling into the next corner. I managed to overshoot my planned line, and nearly went over the berm. My mind was still reeling from the fact that I had just defeated the big triple, and even despite my mid-race celebration, I managed to stay much closer to the big bikes.
I felt so good about it, that I did it again the next time around. “AIEYAH!!” That time felt even better! Since the second time felt better, I figured that a third time couldn’t hurt too badly either.
“AIEYAH!!”
Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt at all, but the next few did. Somehow, I managed to case the doubles, and nearly go over the handlebars in the whoops. As a grand finale, my forearms froze on the face of the finishline tabletop, and the little CR reared back so far that I would have fallen off had I not been fastened on by my locked up fists.
589 was waiting by the exit for me, and gave me some sort of handshake as soon as I pried my fingers from the bars. I was so exhausted, that I took the CR straight to the trailer. After peeling off some of my gear, 589 showed up again, and helped me load up the bike.
Getting the trophy was pretty cool – it had firework designs all over, and was done in a pretty sweet red white and blue. I did feel a little guilty over it, but I had people repeating over and over that I HAD earned it. “You showed up here and raced even when your car was breaking down.” “You’ve gotten up every time you’ve crashed.” “Heck, you’d get up and push that bike across the line even if you had a broken arm.”
What a great group of people to race with! I wouldn’t them up for the world!
However, the adventure didn’t end with the end of the race. The drive home was an entirely different story. I’ll stick it on the end so you’ll understand some of the next few adventures I share.
I took off fairly soon after picking up my trophy as it was slightly later in the afternoon, and I didn’t exactly want to drive in the dark with so many deer living in the area. The Escort was overheating as I drove, and it continued to do so regardless that it had sufficient coolent. The boyfriend had taken off earlier, and met me shortly outside of town, saying that he would show me a shorter route home to spare my sickly little car.
With the heater not functioning, I couldn’t use it to help cool the engine, and we had to pull over. With the first stop, we pulled off some of the plastics that restricted air flow to the radiator in hopes that the increase in circulation would help out. That lasted about 20 miles before I had to pull over to let things cool off again. We waited 20 minutes, then pushed on again. 15 miles later, the needle hit the red again. Just as I began pulling over, there was a terrible grinding noise, and the engine quit completely. Coolent flowed everywhere. It was a sad ending.
My faithful little escort had died for good.
Having recovered slightly from the Thief River Falls adventure, the little CR and I found ourselves heading back up to Greenbush MN for the sixth adventure on our list.
The escort was really ailing now, and I had to make the entire 1.5 hour trip with my heater on full blast to keep the poor thing from overheating. It wasn’t terribly hot out, but the heater in that little car worked so fantastically that I had to pull over and turn the car off a couple times just so I could breathe and dispel the dizzy feeling.
I was extremely relieved when I pulled into the gates, and was greeted by the armband group. Smiles and greeting words were exchanged, and I began writing out the check for my gate fee. I glanced up just in time to see the heat gauge rising into the red, and quickly turn the heater on full blast again to try get the temperature back to an acceptable level.
This is when my poor little car blew its heater core for the second time. As I handed the check to the guy standing there, my windshield fogged completely up, and the telltale scent of antifreeze gusted into the cabin.
“Nooooooooo!!!! Little Car!?! What were you thinking!?!? This is NOT the time to be doing that!!!”
I quickly pulled into the first decent parking spot I found, and shut the ‘Scort off completely. With a frustrated growl, I decided that it would be better to leave the car alone and make the rounds to cool my jets a little. I wasn’t terribly angry, just rather stressed that my car had decided to pee itself so far from home.
I made it all of 20 feet away before the guy that had helped me at the previous race showed up and boisterously gave me a good morning and a slap on the back.
“How yah doin’ kiddo!!?”
“Ah…okay I guess? My car kinda peed itself. I don’t know how bad it really is, but I..”
By the time I was about to explain what had happened, his attention had already shifted to another set of racers, so I went to fill out the forms for the day. I was warmly greeted in the registration trailer, and even got some unexpected pity when I explained my little Escort’s dilemma.
After that, I made a quick round of the track. It was a little slippery walking, but with the sun quickly gaining power as it rose, and warming my back, I began to wonder if it wasn’t going to be a little on the dry side of things. Almost everything else looked about the same as it had the previous two races. The last two portions of the big triple somehow looked softer, as if someone had deflated them slightly. As I looked more closely, I saw that someone HAD filled in the gaps slightly, making it a better landing for those who came up short!
Seeing that lifted my spirits slightly, and I continued my walk until I had made it back to the track exit nearest my sickly car. It looked even greener than usual, which finally convinced me to pick up my cell phone and call the first person on my “oh crap!” list.
“Uh…Hey dad? My car peed itself. Yep – the heater core again. It was overheating on my way here too. Yes, I think someone here can help me bypass it…Okay…Thanks…”
I unleashed the little CR, and put it next to my trailer, unpacking my race gear and setting it nearby. The parking was really starting to fill up quickly now, with the low growl of souped up pickups idling by.
(As I’m writing this, I paused for a second, and looked at what I was typing – I had written “and the chairs are walking!!” Maybe I need to get more sleep!).
Due to the fact that it was the Fourth, almost all of the younger riders had either taped a flag to their helmet, chest protector, or both. It was a cool idea, but there were no extra flags to be found.
“Nuts. That would’ve been cool.” “HEY! *THUMP!!* What would’ve been cool?!”
The fast 250 rider from the first Greenbush race had come up behind me and given me the soundest thumping on the back that I’d ever received. After regaining normal breathing patterns, I explained the flags a little, and she agreed. We ended up talking for a little while; ends up she had quite a bit of history with dirtbikes, and had even ridden a CR 80 that was only a year newer than mine. Time passed quickly and we almost got caught being late for practice.
If it hadn’t been for the “Pin it!” quad rider, we would’ve missed it completely.
Four other girls were lined up at the gate by the time I got there. The fast 250 rider, and the Canadian 250 rider that had shown up at the Casino race just the other day. Also present was the KTM 125 rider, and a new addition was riding a small thumper (125?) Suzuki. The latter of which was wearing bright pink gear.
Practice was pretty uneventful, but I could tell that my riding was progressing a little. The little CR ate up the first doubles with glee as I gave them each a triumphant “AIEYAH!” Coming around the corner, however, I backed off quite a bit and rolled through the triple with a less than triumphant “YIKE!” as I teetered over the launch.
I shook it off, and scolded myself through the next corner and straight section, navigating the next corner just smoothly enough to avoid completely casing the double that came after it. “C’mon little CR we’ve gotta pick it up or we’re gonna get squished or lapped or something!”
I heard the Suzuki steadily behind me, which served to push me just a little harder. The whoops went okay, but I didn’t get a good line up for the big tabletop, and got shy. The nose of the little CR went down much more quickly than I expected. My heroic Aieyah turned into a squeak of fear. “AIEYeeek!”
It served to put my attention more firmly back on my riding.
The next lap went the same, but I heard and saw the bigger bikes approaching quickly. For a moment, I considered easing up a little and letting them pass before the finishline, but decided that I could use all the practice I could get. Somehow, the little CR and I managed to stay ahead long enough to get in our last lap.
I pulled off the track, and was greeted by the quad rider and his wife. We threw track opinions back and forth while I caught my breath. We both agreed that the track was going to get dry, and get dry quickly. I tapped the CR’s front fender to get its attention and commented, “Y’hear that? It’s going to get kinda slippery. Be careful!”
I got a few laughs out of my companions and a few odd looks from the people standing close by. Then they brought up the triple. “You gonna take that thing PinIt?” I shook my head in a quick and definite no reply. “Ah…it’s still big. How about you?” He gave it an eye over, then replied, “I didn’t try it during practice, but I think I can make it now ‘long as I don’t freeze up. The other guys weren’t hitting it all that fast.”
I parked the little CR, telling it “stay” as I walked to make the rounds again. After greeting the newcomer and giving what little advice I could offer, I went to talk to a few of the other racers. Sanford, the helpful guy from the Casino race, gave me quite a bit to think about, but too much of it was above my level of riding. I found the fast 250 rider, 589, standing by my trailer talking to the quad rider and his wife when I went back for a drink.
“Hey! Trophies are sponsored today! If you beat two of us, you’ll get one!”
The chances of my beating one of the bigger bikes were pretty slim, so I laughed and shrugged. “Yea probably not going to happen this time around, but thanks for letting me know!” We sat and traded more stories for a while as the motos literally flew past. Strangely enough, the bleachers were really starting to fill up as the day passed. It made me a little nervous, but I brushed it off as our first moto approached.
The quad rider went out and came back. The grin on his face was bigger than the engine in his quad, and I knew that he’d doubled the triple, and hadn’t crashed. “It’s NICE and EASY PinIt!” I gave him a salute and a bow. “Sweet!”
589 turned to me just as she was leaving to prep her bike and said “I can do it easy in 2nd gear, so for you just have it in 3rd or even revved high in 2nd and you’ll clear it easy!”
Soon we were lined up behind the gates, and I had to laugh, thinking of how I had thought we were supposed to somehow ride over them at the first race. “Remember that little CR? Ha! We’re real racers now, even if we do still ride like goons!” This must have distracted me a little, because I got a fairly poor start. Determination kicked however, and I went into attack mode even before my rear tire had cleared the metal tubing of the gate.
“AIEYAH!!!”
I came into the corner just behind the big bikes, with the Suzuki just beside me on the inside. She got ahead by taking the inside of the corner, but drifted into my line as we came towards the triple. I had been completely determined to take it this time around, but had to back off the throttle or go off the track. To my surprise, the Suzuki rider tried to make the double, but fell short of the landing, and cartwheeled her bike. That was the deciding factor for me, and all thoughts of making the attempt fled my mind like a deer with wolves in pursuit.
The rest of the race was rather a lonely one. I lost sight of the bigger bikes, and the Suzuki rider crashed just as I was coming up behind her again. I stayed well enough ahead the bigger bikes that I never heard them, and on the last lap, I saw the Suzuki rider pushing her bike across from the center of the track.
It was almost relieving to see the checkered flag as I crossed the finish line.
During the break, I called my dad again, and then the other number on my “Oh crap!” list. The boyfriend came an hour later and brought parts to bypass the faulty heater core. With that, he left to go back to where he’d been staying, leaving me to prepare for my last moto. As he left, I heard the telltale sound of a panic rev, and turned just in time to see the entire group of people on the bleachers stand in unison.
The ambulance quickly followed.
“Nuts.”
I walked over to the fence in an attempt to see what was going on without getting in the way, but there was already a solid line. The moto was red-flagged, and a long delay followed. “Nuts again.”
Finally the crowd split, and out limped the Canadian rider that had won the first woman’s moto! A temporary sling had been fixed up for her, and she was escorted into the other ambulance. (If I recall correctly, we had two because of the large number of crashes during one of the previous races here.).
My jaw dropped. With the pink rider’s DNF, and the Canadian’s broken arm, I realized that third place would be mine. About four seconds after the thought had occurred, one of the race organizers came to let me know. “All you have to do is finish! You’re going to get one of the cool trophies! We made them with a special design for today!”
“But it’s kinda one of the more crummy ways to get one isn’t it?”
I felt somewhat badly about the situation, but she eased my feelings by explaining that I was going to earn it by not crashing. (Here I offer my get well soon wishes to the Canadian rider who broke her arm! Author’s note: she made a pretty good and quick recovery too!).
With that, the gates dropped, and the motos were started again. As I passed, pushing the little CR along beside me, the quad rider yelled “Hey! Just pin it! You’ll be fine!” I needed the encouragement, so I stopped long enough to give him another salute and a grin in thanks.
There were just three riders at the gate now, and the clothespin lady was already becoming excited over the possibility of my getting a trophy.
I picked the spot just outside the gateman, to get a straighter shot at coming into the first corner. The red light came on, and I fired up the little CR, letting it warm up as I shook my arms to loosen my muscles up the way I used to as a swimmer. I turned to watch the last riders approach the last few turns, and I readied myself for the yellow light, finding the point of release in the clutch, and feathering it until the green light shone.
The gates dropped, and the little CR and I shot out much faster than I had before.
I lost a little distance when the front end popped up on me, but I rolled the throttle on even harder than before when it came back down. I came over the doubles and into the corner just behind the two bigger bikes, and hardly lost any speed in the first corner.
As soon as I looked up, I committed for the triple, and pinned it.
To this day, I really have no idea why or when I decided to do it.
A movement caught the corner of my eye, and I saw Marlin (the big race organizer who’s been watching out for me from the start), running up towards the triple. Somehow that was rather reassuring for me as I flew towards the base just behind the big bikes. If I crashed, he would be there even before I landed. Heck, at the rate he was going I began to wonder if he would attempt to catch me mid air.
“AIEYAH!!!”
I was terrified, yet felt downright incredible at the same time!
The landing was smooth, and I couldn’t hold an excited fist pump as I came barreling into the next corner. I managed to overshoot my planned line, and nearly went over the berm. My mind was still reeling from the fact that I had just defeated the big triple, and even despite my mid-race celebration, I managed to stay much closer to the big bikes.
I felt so good about it, that I did it again the next time around. “AIEYAH!!” That time felt even better! Since the second time felt better, I figured that a third time couldn’t hurt too badly either.
“AIEYAH!!”
Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt at all, but the next few did. Somehow, I managed to case the doubles, and nearly go over the handlebars in the whoops. As a grand finale, my forearms froze on the face of the finishline tabletop, and the little CR reared back so far that I would have fallen off had I not been fastened on by my locked up fists.
589 was waiting by the exit for me, and gave me some sort of handshake as soon as I pried my fingers from the bars. I was so exhausted, that I took the CR straight to the trailer. After peeling off some of my gear, 589 showed up again, and helped me load up the bike.
Getting the trophy was pretty cool – it had firework designs all over, and was done in a pretty sweet red white and blue. I did feel a little guilty over it, but I had people repeating over and over that I HAD earned it. “You showed up here and raced even when your car was breaking down.” “You’ve gotten up every time you’ve crashed.” “Heck, you’d get up and push that bike across the line even if you had a broken arm.”
What a great group of people to race with! I wouldn’t them up for the world!
However, the adventure didn’t end with the end of the race. The drive home was an entirely different story. I’ll stick it on the end so you’ll understand some of the next few adventures I share.
I took off fairly soon after picking up my trophy as it was slightly later in the afternoon, and I didn’t exactly want to drive in the dark with so many deer living in the area. The Escort was overheating as I drove, and it continued to do so regardless that it had sufficient coolent. The boyfriend had taken off earlier, and met me shortly outside of town, saying that he would show me a shorter route home to spare my sickly little car.
With the heater not functioning, I couldn’t use it to help cool the engine, and we had to pull over. With the first stop, we pulled off some of the plastics that restricted air flow to the radiator in hopes that the increase in circulation would help out. That lasted about 20 miles before I had to pull over to let things cool off again. We waited 20 minutes, then pushed on again. 15 miles later, the needle hit the red again. Just as I began pulling over, there was a terrible grinding noise, and the engine quit completely. Coolent flowed everywhere. It was a sad ending.
My faithful little escort had died for good.
