Friday, August 15, 2008
Our Poor Eurovan Takes a Ride
At 5:19 pm we pulled off the Interstate at Bardstown, Kensylvania for gas. As we approached the gas station, the oil pressure alarm went off, and the engine quietly and peacefully died. We coasted to the gas pump, filled up the tank, and put in a couple quarts of oil.
We turned the key, and there was a click. This is odd, because when you turn the key in Eurovan, usually there is no click...just the roar of the engine starting up. We tired again. Click, but no roar. In fact, Eurovan would not start up. We begged, we pleaded, we had a nearby car guy look at the engine, we sacrificed a goat (the emergency goat that's stored next to the spare tire)...all the usual stuff. And all to no avail. Eurovan just would not start.
So we called the VW Emergency Roadside Service number. After determining that Eurovan was no longer under warranty (we knew that), and that we had attempted the sacrifice-the-emergency-goat maneuver, they called a tow truck to take us to the nearest VW dealer -- fifty miles away in Louisville.
Jason the manic tow-truck guy showed up in quick order and hoisted Eurovan aboard his truck and drove it (and us) to Louisville. There was only one bad moment, when we went over a bump at 85 mph and Eurovan tried to jump off Jason's truck. But Jason stopped and secured it some more, and we made it to Louisville without incident. (A damn good thing, too, because "incident" in this case means "Eurovan toppling sideways off Jason's truck and into the middle lane of I-65 at 85 mph." It didn't help our confidence that Jason kept saying "I'm really nervous carrying this sumbith.")
We left Eurovan at the VW dealer, packed up stuff we needed for the night, and hiked down the road to Clark's Motel, where we are now resting somewhat comfortably, albeit shaken (and stirred).
Tomorrow, we will find out (a) if the dealer's mechanics will work on Eurovan on a Saturday, (b) if they can figure out what's wrong, (c) if they can fix it, and (d) how we will pay for it.
Needless to say, our plans to get home on Saturday night have been derailed. We are 612 miles from home, which we could conceivably do in one day. But we'll have to see.