Wednesday, January 19, 2005

682 in Reverse

I am pushing the four cylinders of my 1990 Acura to their very limits. The tacometer wobbles as it strains past 5,000 revolutions per minute. My engine is squeeling like a stuck pig and my neck is twisted to allow my head to peer out the window. The back window has been obscured by the sticky wet snow that is beginning to accumulate. This does not make my job any easier.

Jim's Auto Service is located just outside of The Plains, Ohio. This is where my car was taken last Friday after the clutch decided to stop driving, forward that is.

According to the mechanic at Jim's Auto Service the clutch is shot. Parts, labor and tax bring the necessary repairs to more than $600. For those of you who are not familiar with my automobile I will describe it for you. (This is probably an exercise in futility because the only two people who read this blog are my father - he is now retired - and the conspiracy theorist across the street from me - he leaves the house only twice a week) It is missing a radio, smells like the homeless man who called it home for a short time in Cincinnti, and has a broken front bumper. The car is barely worth the $600 it would cost to fix it.

Kind as the good people at Jim's Auto Service are they were beginning to grow a little antsy about having my car parked in front of their garage. As the car was not going to be repaired at Jim's they requested its removal from their lot. The ideal solution would have been to have professionals tow the injured automobile to its intended destination, you say. Unfortunately, however, my free tows from AAA expired with the trip to Jim's. I was left with only one option.

Remember the car is able to drive in reverse. Also remember that Jim's Auto Service is located at the far end of The Plains - a small Appalachain town with three stop lights - and that Vore Ridge Road - where I currently hang my hat - lies three and a half miles to the east of The Plains on Route 682.

A security entourage rivaling that of Mein Fuhrer Bush is assembled to accompany the Acura on her most difficult voyage. Nic drives in front of me to avoid any problems from the front. Zach takes up the rear position to protect my backside.

Despite the small size of the town the main street through The Plains becomes quite crowded at 5:15 on a Wednesday evening. Rush hour. I really did not anticipate this type of traffic when I considered the schematics of the project I was embarking upon.

Zach pulled out to block the flow of traffic followed by Nic and then by the hobbled Acura. If you have ever been skiing backwards without goggles you may be able to appreciate my plight this evening. For the first mile I had my door open and head sticking out into the snow to make sure that I was not heading into oncomming traffic. Shoppers returning to their cars stopped and looked on in amazement.

According to Zach's count at one point a line of 47 cars formed behind me. However, there were fewer horns than I thought there would be. A paramedic stopped to make sure everything was OK. I lied and said yes. I wonder what type of laws they have in the state of Ohio about driving backwards on a highway?

For three and a half miles this went on through the windy hills of Route 682 into Athens, Ohio. Nic says that I topped out at 25 miles per hour. I will always remember the last time I drove that stupid little car. Hopefully the boys down in The Plains have something to talk about over the poker game at the VFW Hall tonight.

6 Comments:

Blogger Yonder Vittles said...

It now appears that I have three readers: my retired father, the conspiracy theorist next door, and somebody from Cincinnati who stumbled on to this site at 2:06 AM. One more and we have a movement on our hands.

5:15 PM  
Blogger Yonder Vittles said...

Good news readers. Thanks to the tireless work of the United States Postal Service and my loving parents a fresh AAA card arrived on my Vore Ridge doorstep two days after the posting of 682 in Reverse.

10:49 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You're incredibly brilliant and incredibly insane all rolled into one backwoods satirical Ohioian... boy do I miss you!
T-

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