Memorable Roadside Fixes

I wrote this and bet there are a lot of stories to be told.

I owned a '78 Corona and it was very much an inexpensive Volvo with 5 speed and good interior space. I developed the $2.50 tune up with this car. It had the habit of clogging the fuel filter and losing its idle. A new filter every few months fixed it. It was not common by 1984 when I had it and one day there was another, a wagon, stalled by a traffic light. I stopped and took a filter out of my trunk. With pinch clamps, the swap did not even need a tool and 5 minutes later, the owner thought I was a genius.

Cheers Ron

I once replaced the head gasket of my TR-4A on the side of the road once. I always kept a voltage regulator, generator rebuild parts, fuel pump, fuel filter, various wiring components, JB Weld, and duct tape with me at all times, and they were all used on the side of the road at various times.

It was the only car I've ever owned that people would drive up beside me and say "there are pieces falling off your car back there". I used to do a "nut and bolt" almost every weekend.

I had a bright yellow 1967 Barracuda that I’d just completed a 2700 plus mile journey in, from back to Kalifornia from North Carolina when I got out of the Corps in 1981. Stopped long enough to in to say hi to the folks & drop off all my gear before, hopping back in my car to drive over to see my then Girl Friend (can’t recall her name) who I hadn’t “SEEN” in something like 4 months. In route I was at a stop light about 5 miles from home when the light turned green I made in about half way into the intersection when I dropped my drive shaft.

Pushing over to the side of the road I collected the drive shaft and some bits & pieces that had fallen out from under my car. Turns out that my universal joint had come apart when one of the baring c-clamps fell off. Luckily all the needle bearings where still in the universal cap that’d come off, but the clamp was missing.

Oh what to do? Well while I was under my car inspecting things I found an old nail that’d been and using rock & the edge of the curb I fashioned a clamp. After putting it all back together I limped to the nearest parts store and swapped out the universal joint in my girlfriends front yard.

A "real" mechanic had installed a fuel filter in my buddy's '69 Toyota. 100 miles from any open store, gas started spraying around the engine compartment. The fumes alerted him to pull in at what passed for a town. The filter threads in the carb body were stripped. The repair involved baling wire, duct tape, AND JB Weld for the Trifecta (all standard supplies in my '63 Belair, the preferred rescue vehicle for my circle of friends at the time).

My ex and I were walking back to her car after shopping one day and noticed there was a pinhole leak in her tire. Must've been a nail that came loose. I fixed the hole with a couple of toothpicks and chewing gum. It actually made it home, and held until we repaired it the next day!

Does behind the motel count?

Back in the mid-70's I was in the Navy, stationed in Colorado Springs. An Air Force buddy of mine owned an older VW squareback. One day I was in the car with him and his wife when the (automatic) transmission stopped shifting.

I crawled under the car while he played with the shift lever. I didn't know squat about fixing cars then - not having owned an MG yet :grin: - but I could see there was a retainer and nut of some kind that should be there but wasn't.

I found an old bobby pin and a bottle cap laying around and fashioned something that lasted a couple of days until he could get the car to an actual mechanic.

Needless to say, I pretended like I actually knew what I was doing....

I was at a strip mall in my '59 Morris Minor when the throttle cable broke, My passenger thought we were stuck. I bought a new cable at a near by bicycle shop and had us on the road in about 15 minutes.

Dave

Heck, the bicycle brake cable for a throttle cable on old british iron is a tech tip, not a bodge. Personally, I prefer bike brake cable, as I think you can get much better cable, cheaper. I like the teflon-lined stuff, myself.

It was winter and a car load of loaded revellers was driving over the bridge from a fine evening at the Raftsman bar. The car was a 1970-ish Ford Cortina with 4 speed "on the tree". There was singing, there were jokes, laughter and smoke coming from the dashboard. Oh, oh, this was not good. We stopped in a panic and openned the bonnet to let out the smoke. It was electrical and pungent and I needed to pee. The left running light wire was glowing from shorting out to the bodywork. The driver pulled the wire away from the socket and it was still live in his hand. I felt rather motivated to get moving. So, I pulled off my glove, stuffed in the wire and slammed the hood on the glove to hold it in place. We continued to my place minus one running light and with even the main fuse intact.

Cheers Ron

My most memorable was on a smallish ferry across one of the lakes in stormy rough weather. Weather was rough enough I wasn't sure the bike would stay in place or upright.

I noticed that there were some things hanging off the bottom of the bike that definately shouldn't be there. Not a big repair, the main power relay was hanging, and I think the case was broken or missing.

Trying to tape this all together on a the deck of a boat pitching around in a storm, with driving rain, hoping the bike doesn't fall down on me as we slide around on the deck some, was most memorable. Entertained a number of the onlookers who watched from the cabin.

The car: the Abomination's spiritual ancestor, a 1968 Triumph Spitfire with a 2.0L OHC 'Pinto' engine stuffed into it.

The setting: I-95 at the I-26 interchange. Sunday evening, the sun was going down rapidly.

It had started running like crap about 5 miles earlier, as I made the exit from 95 to 26 it backfired like crazy and stalled. I coasted onto the shoulder 'deadstick'. Lifted the snoot, the exhaust manifold was glowing cherry red. :omg:

The PerTronix Igniter had croaked. Lucky for me, I had a set of points and condenser in the ammo box toolbox. The alternator was mounted over the top of the dizzy, making for a real fun swap of parts. I had no feeler gauges, so I wound up using a matchbook cover to gap the points.

All this in the glare of headlights going by about 5 feet from my behind at about 75-80 MPH.

I also once had the exhaust come loose on a Pinto out in the middle of East Nowhere, SC. I had only a pair of pliers and a screwdriver, not a real big help. The only thing nearby was a field of cows. So I wound up bending a piece of barb wire back and forth till it snapped and then wiring the exhaust back in place. I wonder if the farmer ever fixed that fence? :grin:

My story isn't really a fix, but here goes:

Back in the early 90s my girlfriend and I were going to visit her brother in Wheeling West Virginia. Our route took us from New Jersey, through Pennsylvania and into West Virginia. We were in my trusty 83 RX7. Her name was Rosie, the car, not the girl. It was the limited edition, which had a LSD, BBS style wheels, 4 wheel discs (iirc) and a sweet, almost champagne colored metallic paint.

On the way back, we stopped in one of the many rest stops in Pennsylvania to grab a soda. Pulling out of the rest stop, I gunned the motor. I loved to make that rotary rev! I regularly bounced it off of the rev limiter. As I was accelerating out of the rest area, I nailed it in first, grabbed the stick and......

Nothing. It wouldn't budge.

I pulled over, and began to look around the engine and under the bottom of the car. I couldn't see anything leaking, broken, or anything worrisome. I got back in and started the car. The engine started just fine. I couldn't put it into gear. I shut the car off. I put it into first and started it again. The car chugged forward. This time I pulled a little harder on the gear shift, and it came out of first. I matched revs, and got it into second. By matching revs, I was able to shift without the clutch, and drive the rest of the way home which was about 120 miles. I found out later that the clutch disc had basically shattered.

Of course my girlfriend was navigating for us, and she got us lost a few times, which was only made worse by the fact that every road in Pennsylvania is under construction at all times and the widest roads that they have a 4 lanes, so I was chugging for miles, trying not to have to shift, behind 18-wheelers creeping along at 10 miles an hour.

The funny part was that this girl figured out she wanted to marry me because of all of this. We've been together ever since. Maybe I should have called AAA.

Given all the old pieces of junk I've had to drive, I've gotten fairly good at driving without a clutch. Really, the hardest part is starting from a dead stop. Other than that, it's mostly just rev-matching.

Last summer we were heading up I95, middle of nowhere SC, from Daytona (not there for Smashcar race)back to NY in my 97 Plymouth van. Just about dark, the engine died and my wife pulled, barely, off the side of the road.

A fuse kept blowing but I couldn't see any thing wrong so we called for a tow truck. While we were waiting, I crawled back under the car and saw a wiring harness had broken free from it's holder and fallen across the exhaust pipe. Several wires had melted insulation, one must have arced and was in two pieces. I didn't have any wire in the tool box but I did find a section of retread on the side of the road. Pulled a few cords out of the carcass, spliced the broken wire together, used duct tape to insulate the others and another piece of tread wire to hold the harness away from the manifold.

I finished up as the tow truck was backing up to us. I changed the fuse that kept blowing, and the car fired right up. We pulled off the road on the next exit at a fishing supply store and got another roll of duct tape, they didn't have any wire, and drove through the night to NY.

My wife thought I was MccGuyver. She worshiped me for saving her and the kids until I did some stupid guy thing again the next week and I was back in the doghouse. mike

I won't repeat the old stories about using the passenger's pantyhose to make a temporary fanbelt, but in one case I was able to use the passenger herself to get us home.

Had a fuel pump crap out on an MGA. It was unresponsive to the usual banging trick. Borrowed a large single hole stopper, piece of glass tubing and long piece of rubber hosing from the lab. Stuck the stopper in the fuel neck (guess this would only work on older cars with unvented fuel filler necks), and had the passenger blow into the tube.

Probably got a couple of PSI of pressure into the gas tank which was enough to keep filling the float bowls (she'd blow, then pinch off the tube while she took another breath).

Speed was limited to how hard and often the passenger was able to blow and she seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating a couple of times going up a hill, but we got home alright!

It was a ’73 German Capri V-6. Neat car. I was southbound in rush hour traffic on Route 95 in Norwood, MA, right under the Neponset Street bridge, if you must know. I was in the passing lane doing about what everybody else in the passing lane was doing, 70 or more.

Suddenly, no power and the tach needle dropped to zero. The other electrics were ok. Somehow folks figured out why I had my flashers on, and gave me a path to coast to the shoulder.

Coasting to a stop, I had pretty much diagnosed that my aftermarket Delta electronic ignition had croaked, so as soon as I stopped, I popped the hood, and pushed the little bypass button that switches back to stock. That was easy. I’m outta here.

Nope, the car would not restart. So I rechecked the wiring on the terminal block where I patched the Delta wiring into the stock wires, the tightness of the terminals on the coil, distributor wires, all of that. No problems, but it still wouldn’t start. What’s wrong with this picture?

Then I noticed a slight rubber burning type smell, and followed my nose. Oh, there it is. The Capri had a long wire from the distributor to the coil, located on the inner fender. In the middle of this wire was a rather substantial rubber shielded connector, and the whole wire was unsupported, swinging in the breeze. It had fatigued to the point where it broke off, and the rubber connector was lying on the exhaust manifold.

After that it was easy. I’m an EE, and had a bit of spare wire in the trunk, so a little splicing, and I was on my way.

And then there was the time when my 5 speed Jetta transmission suddenly decided to only shift into a couple gears, and I fixed it on the roadside with a bungee cord. But that’s another story.

Stu

The resistor in the Triumph Stag was intermittent like I had bad gas in it . It would putter along and pop making the 350 chevy sound pathetic . I had put some gas in it thinking low fuel / bad gas . Ran for a while but on way back from part store we stopped to get some hooch came out of the store and it would not start . We asked Hodgee for a paper clip and jumped the wires eliminating the resistor and it fired right up . Not wanting to burn up the coil we let it run for just a bit , then replaced resistor and it fired . 2 days at the part store for an old chrysler replacement to come in so its been grounded . Memorable yes because it happened this morning ahhhh I mean after lunch we start our beer runs .

Driving an exgirlfriend's very early Honda Civic it blew the fusible link. I "made one" using aluminum foil from the lunch basket we had made for our day at the beach.

That lasted almost all the way, when it burned I figured I needed to get back home without any more inconveniences (and since it was dark and needed headlamps - read biogger draw) I used a hairpin that time.

Worked like a charm, could have burned the wiring harnes or the car. Later found that the problem was melted insulation on a wire.

DONT TRY THIS AT HOME !

Cruising Palisades Parkway in a 1952 Chevy deLuxe. Mid 70's, so the car wasn't even an antique yet, but it was old enough that parts availabilty was a worry. The v-belt snapped within coasting distance of an exit. The exit had a wide gravel area just past the stop sign. I raised the hood to confirm what I already knew and then stuck out my thumb, hoping there was a town nearby. My girlfriend stayed with the car. The very first car picked me up. The parts store was at the very first intersection. It was an old store. They had the belt in stock, a wide, gold v-belt. The parts guy just grinned, reached up into the rafters and hooked it with a long pole and handed it to me. I think it was cheap. The very first car going back picked me up. Thirty minutes after the old belt slapped the hood and the temperature immediately began to rise, we were underway again. Same car, broke a rear leaf spring on one of New York's finest potholes. Limped home and then to the spring shop on an oak 4x4 block found nearby wired in with found wire

Tybee Island, GA, the day after St Patrick's Day in Savannah. Hung over as hell, I just wanted to 1) die 2) crawl in a hole and pull it in after me. But I had to get back to Columbia, SC.

Stopped to gas up my '72 MGB, got back in, the key wouldn't turn. It had been sorta hit or miss for a while, now it was just plain old miss. This meant I was stuck at the gas pump since the front tires were turned and the steering lock wouldn't let go. An old coot in a Buick pulled up behind me and laid on the horn to the point where I was ready to rip it out by the roots. :evil:

I finally convinced the old party I wasn't blocking the pump on purpose. I had a very few tools; screwdrivers and pliers, no wrenches. Not real smart, right? I eventually managed to get the 'anti theft' lock bolts out of the steering lock assembly by using the flat blade screwdriver and pliers as a hammer and chisel. When I got the lock off, I was able to take the plastic switch off the lock and work it with a screwdriver. Drove back to Columbia with the switch swinging by the wires.

The next day I found out how much an ignition lock cylinder for an MGB cost. :omg: So I finally worried the thing apart, took a couple of the really badly worn tumblers completely out and used a file to, er, 'modify' the rest. Put it back together, it worked perfectly. :nice: It was still working fine when I sold the car about 6 years later.

Fall, 1969. I'm on a field trip with three other geology students, looking for mineral specimens at an old abaandoned mine about 20 miles off the nearest paved road, somewhere near Mammoth, Arizona. As we get ready to head back to civilization, the gas pedal of my '63 Corvair goes to the floor - disconnected from anything. Yikes!

So we determine that something (later turns out to be a simple little cotter pin) has broken somewhere in the tunnel that runs down the middle of the car. No problem, we'll just work the throttle linkage with a rope or something. Problem: The 'Vair throttle linkage increases engine speed by moving toward the back of the car, just like a front engine. Pushing a rope won't work, so we find a dead tree limb, trim it to length by whacking it with rock hammers, and jam it between the battery and spare tire. Then we all remove our bootlaces, tie them togetner, and loop them around the limb.

No good - too much friction. We find a beer can and pry some nails out of an old abandoned mine building. We slip the can over the limb, fix it in place with the nails, and voila - when you pull on the laces, they slide around the can, pull on the linkage, and the engine revs. With the addition of a belt (for length), I could operate the throttle by hanging my hand out the window and pulling on the laces (had to prop the engine lid open like an Abarth).

Drove it back to the highway - 20 miles of hilly semi-Jeep trail (downshifts were tricky with stretchy laces) - and found a service station open on Sunday - the mechanic put the car on the lift, found the problem, machined a new cotter pin to size and sent us on our way for a dollar!

Have photos to prove it (but not scanned, sorry). That Corvair proved to be the most trouble free car I have ever owned, except for my Mk. 1 MR2.