My radiator in my little 1995 Toyoya Corolla finally had had enough, and popped a second hole. I had plugged the first with JBWeld, but the old radiator simply found the next location of least resistance, and began spewing fluids through that hole, as well. This one, however, was at a location where I could not do a quick fix, myself. It was finally time to reach into my empty pocket and pay the money for a replacement radiator. However, I was not about to put a new radiator on the twenty year old car. Even a used radiator would likely outlive the vehicle that had already clocked 285,000 miles.
After a diligent search, my wife reacquainted us with the mechanic that had replaced my fuel tank when it had sprung a hole after a big rig peeled off the re-tread of a tire, and my little car tried to leapfrog the long rubber obstacle on the freeway. . . ironically as I drove home after a long day's work driving a big rig. The shop in San Jacinto is a little hole in the wall on the far reaches of San Jacinto, a good forty minutes from the house. But, after various searches that revealed we were probably not going to spend less than $400 on a radiator, Roberto's price of $70 for a used radiator, and $60 for labor was a deal we were happy to have. It was just a matter of getting the little car to San Jacinto.
I filled the radiator, and we began the drive, with our truck, driven by my wife, close behind. Grandchildren had begged to go with us, but we knew it might be a harrowing journey, so we denied the kids an opportunity for a road trip with Grandman and Grandpa. After a couple stops to pour water in the radiator, I noticed that the saving grace of a very good convection fan that I thought would be a key component in getting the car to San Jacinto was not turning on. The car was getting hot quick.
At about the halfway point, the car was getting so hot, and the stops to put water in were becoming more frequent, that I decided to pull over to gather my thoughts, and weigh my options. As I pulled the car over onto the dirt shoulder on a road that is much like an expressway called Domenigoni Parkway, the car's engine died. With a cursory attempt to start the car back up, I feared I may have done more damage than a hole in my radiator.
Since we have a tow package on the truck, we decided it was time to rent a tow-dolly to get the car the rest of the way. After a visit to a local rental place in Hemet, however, we learned that the converter on my truck was not allowing the left signal to work on the trailer. If we could not get all lights to work, we were not going to be allowed to rent the dolly.
I felt I could not win for losing.
My wife called Roberto, the mechanic awaiting our arrival. He does not offer towing service, but he did have a tow-dolly. An old one. He doesn't advertise he has it, and he doesn't let just any customer use it, but in this case, he might make an exception for a very low price. . . one we figured would be much less than the $59 after all of the fees and taxes for the one from the rental place.
We drove the truck to the shop and attached the dolly. It was ugly, noisy, and both lights on it did not work. After mentioning I've had a Class A license for 15 years, the old Mexican shop owner eased a little in his worry. "Don't make a mistake," was his final words as we left the shop with his old, rusted last minute salvation.
When we got back to the car, it started up, I poured water into the radiator as the engine purred, and then drove it up on the dolly. "Good news," I told myself. "At least the engine hasn't seized."
After telling Roberto, later, that the car started, I said, "That's good news, right?" He smiled, raised his glasses above his eyebrows, and said, "We'll see."
The straps with the dolly were sort of like the tow-dolly. They were old and dirty. But, they secured the wheels fine enough. The ramps occasionally dragged on the asphalt as we proceeded, and turning made sounds that made me think the whole dolly was coming apart from within. But, at a very slow speed, we managed to tow the car to the shop. I, using my big rig skills, backed the car up into the yard, and we dropped it on the dirt. Finally, the little Corolla was at the shop for its repair.
We grabbed a quick meal on the way home, during which I seemed unable to drink enough lemonade. We arrived at home at about 9:00 pm, six hours after we had first set out to take the car up the road to San Jacinto.
Roberto charged us twenty bucks for using his dolly, a fee I was glad to pay.
The dolly was ugly and noisy, but it did the job.
Will the car be repairable?
As Roberto said, "We'll see."
-- Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary
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