Travel Bug: Story #3 -- New Brunswick

So this may not seem as glamorous as the rest of the Travel Bug stories seeing as it occurred in the armpit of Canada (I say that with love of course) but after my journey this weekend, I felt it absolutely necessary to blog about it.

The trouble started minutes after my roommates and I had piled ourselves (and our insane number of bags) into my 1997 Toyota Carolla. Named "The Admiral", my vehicle typically acts as my strong, loving, comfy confidant... however this summer, my Admiral has been letting me down more often than I care to admit. This weekend was no exception.

We got on the road towards the highway and heard a very strange lawn-mower sound. Originally, I thought nothing of it but after reaching the Evangeline Inn, I thought it best to pull into the small Irving Gas Station and ask the mechanic there for a little advice. As I get out of my car, a large 1/2 naked man (with a withering tattoo on his arm that professed his love for some chick named "Rosie"), comes sauntering towards me. He takes a few minutes, looks under the hood and tells me that there's a hole in my exhaust and that it's no big problem at all. Like an idiot, I believed him and headed back to the road.

By Hantsport (15 minutes down the highway) the lawn-mower noise had turned into a tractor-like noise and I thought it wise to call my mechanic in New Minas. He, alarmed by my description, told me to turn around immediately and head to his shop.

After a few minutes at Midas, it was determined that the previous owner of my beloved Admiral had decided that it would be a good idea to drill 2 holes into the engine and then proceed to cover them up with epoxy (glue) in order to fix their dumb-ass move. We were told that this was a HUGE problem since the hole in the engine would affect the exhaust system and would essentially pump carbon-monoxide into the car until we all died without warning. Fantastic, no?

In order to fix such a problem as TWO holes in my engine, a very specific type of welder had to be called in. After 2 hours of waiting, he finally arrived and welded the aluminum hole shut and wished us luck with our travels.

Incredibly relieved, my roommates and I hopped into the vehicle and made our way back to the highway. At the stoplight right before the highway however, The Admiral began to shake violently and make a "chugging" noise. BUT, after waiting 2 whole hours to leave, my roommates and I decided to shrug it off as nothing and continue on our journey... DUMB ASS MOVE.

The car ride seemed to be going well enough, cruising at a steady 120 down the highway until my lovely roommates felt nature calling and the Admiral felt rather thirsty. We pulled into the Irving in Oxford, NS. and I filled my tank with gas while the girls hit the lady's room. After filling up the tank, I got into the car with intentions of moving it up and into a parking space to wait for the girls... unfortunately at this point my dear boy said "Fuck you Lindsay" and decided to NOT start again.

I immediately got out and screamed like an idiot at my bastard car, much to the surprise of the other drivers filling up. Thankfully - some divine intervention, I'm sure - a mechanic happened to be filling up his truck right at the next pump. He came over and told me that he thought I had a blockage in my fuel line and that in order to run my car, I would have to constantly have my foot on the gas. This means that any time I were to take my foot off the gas, my car would die and possibly not start again.

And so began the last leg of the journey to New Brunswick... my foot didn't leave the gas pedal once. This wouldn't have been as huge of an issue if we had been driving in the day in some nice weather. Unfortunately for us, thick fog rolled in and with it came torrential down-pour. On dark, winding roads with flat paint (instead of fluorescent paint like the rest of the world), my roommates and I traveled full speed ahead and fully terrified. To top it off, in the midst of the fog, the engine light came on and the car began to rumble once again as it hydroplaned down the road. I have never gripped my steering wheel so hard in all my life.

As we pulled off the highway into Quispamsis, NB we got lucky and had two green lights... followed by a red (which we ran) and a couple stop-signs that, with any-luck, had approaches that could be called "cautious roll-throughs".

We arrived at our destination for the evening and put the Admiral in park. The next morning we braved the unbrakeable-breakable vehicle and motored into Sussex NB for some emergency assistance from the local mechanic. Indeed the man at Irving was right - there was a blockage in the fuel line. The mechanic flushed out the fuel lines and out popped the lovely piece of metal (1/4 the size of my pinkie finger-nail) that had caused us so much distress. FINALLY the Admiral was fixed! Or so we thought...

For the rest of the weekend my boy behaved himself and trucked around NB without any issues. On the way back, my roommates and I decided to stop off to visit some of my family in Amherst. After a few hours with them, we hit the road. Not 10 minutes down the road did we hear the tractor noise rise from the belly the beast once again. I pulled over and popped the hood to investigate the noise.

***I must add here that prior to the disaster that was this weekend, I had ZERO knowledge of how cars worked!***

So yes, I popped the hood and looked in at the engine where yet again, I found ANOTHER giant hole with epoxy residue flaking off as I glared down at it. I called my cousin to save us at Amherst's "Riverside Diner" and once he had given his final opinion, it was decided that we would ride the rest of the way to Wolfville with the windows down, the tractor-noise up, and the carbon-monoxide at a minimum (air filters blocked + windows down = less chance of death).

Now, a few hours after returning to the safety of my home, I can say that I've never been SO furious with the Admrial, nor have I been so terrified for not only my life, but the lives of others. Our motto for the weekend was "small victories"... I consider one of those victories as getting my roomies home safe for sure.

Tomorrow I will take him back to the shop in hopes of bringing him back to life again.
So far, this summer has been a war. Lindsay vs. The Admiral.

He is kicking my ass.