However, after only five years with us, on a trip home from Idaho, the Colt died a dramatic death, going out in flames of, well, not exactly glory.
First it began to make strange noises and the tachometer began to fluctuate. Then the noises got louder, the tachometer dropped completely and then the engine died. Thankfully we were on the north side of the pass, heading downward. However, both power steering and the power braking were gone. My DH pulled on the wheel to get us to the side of the road and jammed his foot on the brakes, bringing us safely to a stop.
He got out, hoping to discover the trouble. When he lifted the hood of the car, flames leaped into his face! Yep, that might have something to do with it. I could see the base of the fire from inside the car and I panicked. How long before the fire travelled down some pipe somewhere and ignited the gas tank? (My knowledge of cars comes from the media.) I grabbed my infant son and his blanket from his carseat in the back, escaped from the car, and took him up the road, away from the potential explosion.
Now at this point, you’d think one of the many passing cars would stop. I was a young mother, clutching my baby and waving frantically, on the side of a freeway behind a car that has flames leaping from the engine.
Nope, not dramatic enough I guess, because nobody stopped.
My DH didn’t know how to get the fire out. We didn’t have any water in the car. I yelled that he could use the blanket, but he declined. Maybe because it was our son’s favorite, maybe he was afraid it would catch fire also, or maybe because he didn’t want to explain to my mom what happened to her gift. Instead he looked around desperately for something to throw on the flames. I began to worry that he should join me, several hundred (well at least sixty) feet away now, but walking backward.
There was nothing else available, so he scooped the fine gravel from the shoulder of the road and began to throw that on the engine. It eventually worked. Still nobody had stopped. We climbed back into the car’s cold shell, with the hood still up and prayed for help. It was before cell phones, but even with them, prayer is still a more sure connection.
A blue car, not much bigger than ours, pulled over. It held two women, mother and daughter, and was filled to the brim. But when they heard our situation, they piled things up in the back seat and made room for the three of us to squeeze in. Then they drove us to Malad and waited while we called someone in Pocatello who could come get us.
I often wonder how many cars passed that had more room than those two women did, but justified not stopping for some reason or another, despite the mother and her baby and the engine that spouted flames?
After that day, I determined I would not be one of the ones who didn’t stop. And that story is tomorrow.
Check out the blog hop: Random Acts of Kindness. I hope you share a story of your own. With so many blogs participating, there are hundred of opportunities to win, all within five days.