- Written by webmin
It’s been a couple of years since I broke something that I was driving, and so this was probably overdue. But three things? In one day? OK, I had a hand in only two of ‘em. But still …
A month ago, I was leading our photo-feature car to our location in my own vehicle, largely because it was one of those “I-know-how-to-get-there-but-don’t-know-the-street-names” kind of places; you will see that Phoenix-area location, and a very nice car (not this one) parked in the middle of it, on the cover of the next issue of Hemmings Muscle Machines, which is at the printer now. And some manner of bird loses the will to live, and decides to snuff it using my windshield as the point of impact. It only lasted for a click of the fingers, but I can still see that bird, body twisted above its head at some unnatural angle, eye closed as it braced for its shuffle off this mortal coil, as it impacted on the windshield right in my line of vision. I had a sick feeling all the way to the location, when the car owner told me that the sucker just flew away, like nothing had ever happened. Maybe I met the Steve-O of pigeons, doing Jackass-type stunts for his pigeon buddies who are more inclined to laugh than take him to a hospital. In any case, the grey feathers trapped in the windshield cowling were left as a souvenir.
Second was after my test-drive; I had been idling in the car scribbling notes with the nice, cold R12A air conditioning on (it was approaching 110 degrees the day of the shoot) and then switched it off; we had to wait for the sun to go down a little. Long story short, the fuel pump had pumped its last. On my watch, of course. So chalk another one up for me.
Before we succumb to calling AAA for a tow home, we figure, well, what if it’s something else? We dispatched a friend who had come along in his own vehicle to watch the fun (’cause there’s nothing more fun than watching someone else’s car get photographed) to visit a Circle K and grab a can of starting fluid. Leaving our photo location, he managed to reverse himself over the car owner’s bag, which was dropped close to a shrub cluster. The bag contained a full, sealed can of Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi, and all of his ‘77-vintage paperwork, like the service manuals and such. Mercifully, the owner took his sticky, sweet-smelling paperwork in stride. (Somehow, the open can of soft drink on the back bumper made it from the location to Circle K and back again, unspilled.) We have since renamed the offending wheelman Captain Cansqausher, a name the man has embraced with an unnatural relish.
The good news is, we finished the shoot on Saturday, everything worked out fine, and the photos will be arriving at Hemmings HQ in Bennington the next time I can get postage money together.