<VV> Happy Birthday Corvair???? (LONG) (humor?)

[Louis C. Armer,Jr.]

Sooo ...............Hubblescope, In your attempts 
to commit suicide we may surmise
the following:  MOPAR products are more prone to 
failure than Corvairs; In general, those
considering suicide do not choose Toyota's; 
Corvairs previously owned by astronauts are
often purchased by "space cadets" and........ 
Doctors seldom work 8 hour days before they
attempt vehicular suicide !!! <GGG> It's nice to 
see your post even if it's a "late" post
EH, "What's up Doc"????
da Chuckster
Chuck Armer
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t 11:13 PM 10/2/2005, you wrote:
>snip
>Happy Birthday?  I'll settle for just being alive - both me AND my Corvair.
>It happened like this......
>On Thursday I was driving my '96 Dodge Caravan 
>during morning rush hours, on the way to meet a 
>friend, when the engine suddenly died.  I 
>futilely attempted to restart the engine while 
>hoards of angry drivers honked and flipped me 
>off, nearly hitting each other as they swerved 
>madly around either side of my 
>car.  Fortunately, my friend was nearby when I 
>called her and she was able to drive quickly 
>over to my location.  With her car stopping 
>traffic, the two of us were able to push the 
>Caravan out of the traffic lane and into a 
>nearby parking lot.  I called the dealer and a 
>tow truck was dispatched to haul my car away for repairs.
>
>With the Caravan out of commission for a few 
>days, I turned to my faithful Dodge truck for 
>transportation.  That vehicle took car of me for 
>the next day, but when I came out of the house 
>early Saturday morning, on my way to start a 14 
>hour day at the office, I found the left front 
>tire completely flat, due to a nail.  The tire 
>was so flat the bead had broken, so I couldn't 
>easily re-inflate it and I was short on time for 
>getting to work. My wife offered her Toyota, but 
>I didn't think I'd be able to handle the clutch 
>with the cast on my left foot.  So I turned to 
>the John Glenn Convertible ('64 Corvair)
>
>The Glenn car fired right up.  I noticed the gas 
>gauge was low, but the needle was still above 
>empty, so I figured I would have no problem.  It 
>got me to work in time, no problem.
>
>Fourteen and one-half hours later (10:30pm) I 
>left the office and fired up the Corvair.  I 
>glanced again at the gas gauge, but it still 
>read about one-eighth tank, and being very 
>tired, I decided to drive home and get gas the 
>next day.  I'd never had a Corvair run out of 
>gas until the needle was below empty anyway, so 
>I wasn't worried.  I left the parking lot and 
>drove to the nearest highway entrance ramp to 
>take the short quick trip home.  I had just 
>gotten up to speed (about 70 mph) and was at 
>that point on I-264 where the entrance lanes 
>were merging into the highway, at which point 
>the shoulder disappears for about a half 
>mile.  In this city, everybody drives on the shoulder lane anyway.
>Then it happened.
>The car started slowing down.
>It was SLOWING DOWN!!!
>THE ENGINE DIED!!!
>I slipped the car into neutral and hastily tried 
>to restart the car -- NO DICE!
>I coasted, hoping against hope to make it to the 
>point where the shoulder came back.  I 
>desperately wanted to get the car off the highway.It didn't happen.
>The car stopped in the worst possible spot:
>--about a quarter mile past the end of the 
>shoulder and a quarter mile before the breakdown lane began again;
>--where the two ramp lanes from I-64 narrow down 
>to one and begin their merge onto I-264;
>--on a curve;
>--at night;
>--with a tall sound barrier wall stretching 20 
>feet into the air right next to the edge of the road
>---No place to escape
>---In a car with no Hazard flashers.
>snip
>I thought for a brief second or two about 
>getting out of the car and pushing it.  I 
>quickly realized that would be 
>suicide.  Instead, I started pumping the brake 
>pedal to alert the drivers behind me while I 
>tried desperately and futilely to restart the 
>car (déjà vu!), even as cars were coming up 
>behind me rapidly.  Several cars slowed or 
>swerved at the last instance.  I heard squealing 
>tires; there was the sickening smell of burning 
>rubber, and I braced for an impact that I 
>suspected would be the last thing I would ever 
>feel.  In my mind I saw the crumpled rear end of 
>my car; I heard my laptop shattering in the back 
>seat; I felt my neck snap and my chest explode.
>But, it didn't happen that way.
>The car stopped inches from my bumper, then took 
>off again, tires squealing, horn honking, finger waving, voice shouting.
>I called 911 on my cell phone and was patched 
>through to the State Police. They seemed to know 
>I was in a Corvair; I guess somebody must have 
>called them before me.  They said they would send help as soon as possible.
>In the meantime, the cars kept coming up fast 
>behind me.  There were several more very close 
>calls, near hits (I have always hated the term 
>"near miss"), and angry shouts and horns.
>This went on for an agonizing five minutes, 
>during which time my right foot became so tired 
>from pumping the brake that I resorted to 
>pounding pedal with my casted left foot.
>I knew it was only a matter of time before 
>somebody hit me.  I was scared, very scared, but 
>I was also sad that John Glenn's Corvair was 
>going to be destroyed.  I didn't dare to hope, but I hoped anyway.
>Another car was coming up fast behind me.
>Again, the vehicle stopped just in time.  His 
>lights were very bright.  He turned on his flashers and got out of the car.
>He was driving a large pickup truck.  He came up 
>to the window and asked me if I needed 
>help.  Yes, I said, I do.  He went to the front 
>of my car and checked underneath, then came back 
>and told me he would push me up to the pull-out 
>area.  He told me he would not hurt my car - he 
>knew it was a classic and he respected it.
>He slowly pulled his truck up until it just 
>touched my car and slowly pushed me 1-2 mph up 
>to the pullout area and to SAFETY!
>Just after we got there, the Highway Assistance 
>vehicle arrived.  After making sure I was OK, my 
>Good Samaritan (I never got his name!) took off. 
>The Highway Assistance officer checked me out, 
>gave me a couple of gallons of gas, and VROOM, the engine started!
>After thanking the officer, I drove to the next 
>exit and pulled into the gas station there where 
>I filled the tank -- 12 gallons!
>The Glenn car and I arrived home safe and sound 
>about ten minutes later, with only a few minor 
>scratches on the rear deck lid as evidence of our near brush with disaster.
>Somewhere out there is a kind stranger with a 
>big pickup truck.  I just want to say,
>THANK YOU!
>All that was last night, October 1st.
>Today is October 2nd, the birthday of the Corvair.
>Today I took the Glenn car out for a spirited 
>drive on the local country roads.  Just me and 
>the car, with the top down, wind blowing in my hair.
>Happy Birthday, Corvair!!!
>It feels Damn Good to be alive!
>Bill Hubbell
>/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
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