Good News: Part 3 (updated!)

But these frantic weekend trips home were a cakewalk compared to what was coming. Exactly two months into my semester, on the way back to Michigan after seeing a losing Twins playoff game, my car made a thudding sound in Ashland, Wisconsin. The inside of it started to stink like some sort of substance that should probably have stayed in the engine. I pulled over and called Frank, who told me to keep driving as far as it would go. Ashland was the exact halfway point on the trip.

I drove and I drove, smelling that smell, noticing that the brakes seemed to be depressing a little too far when I'd slow down. But they were still *kinda* working. As I drove, I would get to feeling like everything was normal, but then I'd get a whiff of that motor smell and remember my situation, and a low level panic would set in.

I drove and I drove, not stopping to do anything, because I didn't know if the car would start again. I was surviving on rations, my friends...the trail mix was running low. Once I crossed the border back into Michigan, I could no longer ignore the fact that I had to pee. It was dusk by this point.

I pulled into the rest area and decided that I'd leave the car running. I slowed down as I came upon a dip in the road leading to the rest stop. At this point, the car made a thunking noise and seemed to sink about a foot to the ground. I got out and checked out the back of the car. Everything looked okay until I walked around to the rear passenger wheel. A thick black liquid was oozing from the wheel well onto the tire and pooling on the ground.

I flipped open my phone - who could I call? Was the car safe to drive? No reception. I was alone in the freaking wilderness at dusk with a bleeding car and no way to contact anyone. I ran into the bathroom, peed at record speed, and got back inside my little dying car. It still drove for me. It made a couple more thuds on the way out to the highway, and after that, it drove somewhat normally. The brakes were even softer now, but we just kept on going.

And then...Marquette. I quickly realized that I had to give myself about twice the normal braking distance: at the first stoplight in town, next to WalMart, I got dangerously close to the back of a semi truck, but stopped rolling just in time. Many thoughts of, "is this safe?" "am I going to kill myself or someone else?" but the car made it all the way to Joe's Garage, where my roommate picked me up.

The next afternoon, I came back to clean it out and sign the title over to a junkyard.