Carina picked up the Benz to support with some road side assistance. It was the fuel pump membrane that stopped the old Chevy. My smile is in vain.
Let me explain. The normal car enthusiast's heart frequency does not increase if his/hers beloved pair of wheels, without a warning, stops and end up at the side of the road. They do not panic, because they don't even think about the traffic situation. Instead they get focused. They can't talk.
Why? Thousands of pictures of every detail of the car flickers through their mind rapidly. Small film sequences in which they see how they wrenched every bolt, how they did not isolate THAT cable properly appears like a distant but clear memory from the past. -Was the fuel tank really properly cleaned in the left corner? Millions of questions runs through their mind like super computer on full CPU capacity.
We forget that we're dressed in our Sunday best. Our mind force us to jump out, and even in pouring rain, slide under the car with a happy, analytic mindset. We forget time and we smell the smell of adventure.
This should be compared to a normal, non-car guy who: call the insurance company, their mother, a towing company, the car dealer...before the vehicle halts and hit road side gravel.
When the speed is zero and the vehicle finally stops, they panic in a kind of disperse. In their mind, this is a deadly situation, close to a traffic accident.
Talking about breakdowns...the Salt Slush team is currently in road side breakdown therapy. Which is why we've started to think about an emergency vehicle solution and we've found one. Ramp trucks!
The short ramp trucks are cool and still rather reasonable in size...
...but reasonable is a dull, an overrated word. Look at this. HRM's ramp truck at the Salt. The whole team and the race car and all the tools can travel in grace and comfort.
Eventually, and in order to communicate the essence of the headline I have an example:
One silent Sunday some years ago, one of my motorholic friends were in the middle of a story when all of a sudden my old Benz stopped due to lack of fuel.
By pure luck I managed to cross a road in the wrong direction, find a down hill road and eventually again, by pure luck, I managed to steer the sloppy old S-class ship to a safe shore where fuel pumps lined up nicely.
We had to push the car a couple of meters still. However, my friend didn't stop the story telling and I didn't stop listen, since it was a very good story. We filled the car up and when the Mercedes V8 fired up again I guess we both felt a certain unexpressed relief.