The Pink Lady is one mean bitch.
Let me begin this update by saying how bummed The Naughty Norwegian was yesterday. They were on such a high as they started out, but their euphoria tanked just as quickly as the gas pouring out of the guts of the car. But...ever adventurous and optimistic, they were psyched up yet again this morning, and ready for anything.
I got a call around 10 am. They'd been on the road about 2 hours, and had driven 100 miles over the foggy mountains that divide east and central Tennessee. The Pink Lady was holding up well and life was good. Then a text several hours later. Lynchburg was in their rearview mirror, and they were headed west on the road that would take them into Memphis. We'd had so much work done on the car, and she was faring well.
And it began to drizzle. They pulled into the next gas station to put the top up, and couldn't get the car started again. A nice local yokel gave them a jump in exchange for one of the cold beers in their cooler (in anticipation of dry Tennessee towns - not for use while driving!). And the same thing at the next gas-up, but that guy didn't imbibe. Now they're getting worried, and wishing they'd stopped at one of the many service stations they'd passed! They agree to press on and stop at the next place they come to. But, you guessed it, there are no mechanics for miles as they're now truly in the boonies.
Things start to sputter and they quickly turn off the AC and, sadly, the iPod that's playing through the tape deck...and pull into the dead and barren parking lot of an industrial park. It appears to be an alternator problem. Things were looking bleak and I could hear the disappointment in NN's voice. He hung up to call AAA.
But with the next call...."Is the tow truck coming?"
"Naaahhh! We don't need no stinkin' AAA! We have James!"
Just after hanging up earlier, they flagged down a guy in a pickup named James who just happened to have some meter to test the battery or alternator or whatever with. James confirms the diagnosis. James lives nearby and, like most folks in these parts, he has three old junkers he's "restoring". James just so happens to have three, yes three, alternators sitting around the double-wide he has on 100 acres just up the road. He gave the Pink Lady a jump, and the boys followed him home. Yeeeeehaw!
*cue Deliverance banjo
He installed the alternator and shot the shit for a while. NN asked how much. "Whatever you feel like giving me." He pulled $60 out of his wallet and was about to reach for more when James protested that it was too much. Nice folks down here in the south.
Mr. James was so nice, in fact, that he came out to meet them AGAIN after the Pink Bitch decided to dig her heels in the pavement AGAIN.
Yep. Their moment of elation and road trip serendipity was short-lived. They barely made it out of the town they'd last been stuck in when she backfired something fierce. All the lights on the dash lit up as the car died, and I fear she's uttered her last gasp. They're currently on the side of a very dark two-lane road with no shoulder in a car with no power, waiting for the tow truck that was supposed to show up an hour ago, in a town with zero motels.
And they're just 160 miles from the house were Elvis the Pelvis took his last errr...breath. Is the dream still alive? Will our two heros soon be squealing like pigs? Is the tow truck driver's name Bubba?
Tune in tomorrow and find out.
I even managed to surprise them with an Elvis specialty plate. Woo hoo!
