...So we made it to Joe's parents' house, and though we had a great weekend, my mind and stomach were in knots, fearing the moment we would have to, once again, get behind the wheel.
When Sunday finally rolled in we gathered up our things (or most of them for me anyway- I was so concerned with the drive I blindly packed and ended up leaving a decent chunk of my toiletries behind- sorry again about that Mr. and Mrs. G!) and headed for our first stop to visit Joe's grandmother.
The drive was fine for a little while, although trying to keep up with Joe was a chore since my car had so little acceleration it felt like I was towing a Boston Whaler behind me.
We arrived at Joe's grandmother's for a visit, and because they could sense my frustration, Dylan and Joe agreed that Dylan would take over driving my car so I could just relax in the passenger seat. I tried to, but even with Dylan's smooth confident handling, I still became a wreck.
We left Joe's grandma's just in time to hit a wall of torrential rain. After I had nearly nibbled my fingertips to the bone and we had gotten clear of the storm, we had a brief respite. I was actually beginning to enjoy the ride when all of a sudden the jerking and surging that we had experienced on the way up returned, and with a vengeance. It continued for the remainder of the drive, and while we wondered if it was safe to continue driving suddenly the “check engine” light lit up.
Once again my anxiety returned, waiting for the car to veer into a guardrail or start smoking. Dylan, being more reasonable, phoned his friend who works on cars to ask him about our situation.
“Yeah, dude, her car is doing this massive acceleration and up shifting-thing, and then it downshifts just as violently, especially when I take my foot off the gas. And the check engine light just went on. Should we be concerned?” he asked, calmly.
Essentially his friend explained that as long as the car was still running, and since we were getting close to home, we ought to just keep going.
With Dylan managing the steering wheel like an expert cowboy on a fussy mustang, and me fretting like an old Southern belle stereotype, we finally managed to roll into Maryland and, at last, right in front of our house.
Sure, I was still freaking out about what the cost would be to repair whatever the hell was wrong with my car (later on I was informed it had something to do with the throttle control and a bad part that was telling the car to accelerate and decelerate a lot faster than it was supposed to), but I was so grateful we had made it home safe I was thanking the car gods all night. And Dylan, too.
When Sunday finally rolled in we gathered up our things (or most of them for me anyway- I was so concerned with the drive I blindly packed and ended up leaving a decent chunk of my toiletries behind- sorry again about that Mr. and Mrs. G!) and headed for our first stop to visit Joe's grandmother.
The drive was fine for a little while, although trying to keep up with Joe was a chore since my car had so little acceleration it felt like I was towing a Boston Whaler behind me.
We arrived at Joe's grandmother's for a visit, and because they could sense my frustration, Dylan and Joe agreed that Dylan would take over driving my car so I could just relax in the passenger seat. I tried to, but even with Dylan's smooth confident handling, I still became a wreck.
We left Joe's grandma's just in time to hit a wall of torrential rain. After I had nearly nibbled my fingertips to the bone and we had gotten clear of the storm, we had a brief respite. I was actually beginning to enjoy the ride when all of a sudden the jerking and surging that we had experienced on the way up returned, and with a vengeance. It continued for the remainder of the drive, and while we wondered if it was safe to continue driving suddenly the “check engine” light lit up.
Once again my anxiety returned, waiting for the car to veer into a guardrail or start smoking. Dylan, being more reasonable, phoned his friend who works on cars to ask him about our situation.
“Yeah, dude, her car is doing this massive acceleration and up shifting-thing, and then it downshifts just as violently, especially when I take my foot off the gas. And the check engine light just went on. Should we be concerned?” he asked, calmly.
Essentially his friend explained that as long as the car was still running, and since we were getting close to home, we ought to just keep going.
With Dylan managing the steering wheel like an expert cowboy on a fussy mustang, and me fretting like an old Southern belle stereotype, we finally managed to roll into Maryland and, at last, right in front of our house.
Sure, I was still freaking out about what the cost would be to repair whatever the hell was wrong with my car (later on I was informed it had something to do with the throttle control and a bad part that was telling the car to accelerate and decelerate a lot faster than it was supposed to), but I was so grateful we had made it home safe I was thanking the car gods all night. And Dylan, too.
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