Yesterday was a bittersweet day for the dub.
I picked up an old friend to give him a ride - he was doing well, and we exchanged some signs of the times, stories, etc. He liked the car, and commented that he'd heard they were pretty quick. I mashed the gas on the way up the onramp;
Right where the boost usually kicks in, I heard a sound a lot like letting the air out of a basketball. The car wouldn't accelerate.
I checked my noise-pipe delete, and it was snug as ever.
Must've torn the DV.
I had the day all planned -- driving out to Old Man's Cave, a scenic hiking area about an hour away. I went anyway - the roads out there are winding, curvy, wide open -- turbo or not, I didn't wanna miss it.
The main part of the drive was great - very sluggish in the passing lane, but I did manage to squeeze about 24MPG on the way over. Once we were off the freeway, the fun began; Snaking my way through the dips, valleys, curves. Beautiful scenery. Some deer. Cows.
I've never lost a tire like that before. The GTI didn't fight or pull hard - but the tire was flat instantly.
My fast was sad..
I pull to a driveway, and begin the ceremony. The jack, the spare, the little tool to pull the plastic caps off. The wheel lock key. I look under the car and locate the jack point, and ask my passenger to hand me the Widowmaker.
"The what?!" I've had so many cars up on so many jacks in so many places, I thought nothing of it.
"The Widowmaker - it's the scissor jack they throw in to save space. About two dollars worth of steel. They call it that because it's not a good jack - people have died", I said with a sarcastic seriousness.
I was just teasing her a little. No problem - a few turns later, the passenger side of the car's in the air.
So, off come the plastic caps - the lugs, the lock. The car's been really steady on the jack the whole time, wrenching off the lugs. One hand on the bottom wheelspoke, I smack the top of the tire to release it from the hub.
That's when it happened - As I set the wheel/tire on the ground, the weight of the car shifted.
The back tire touched gravel.
In slow motion, the jack tipped, and the car came down.
Right onto my hand.
I didn't make a sound - didn't jump, jerk, curse. Nothing.
Shock, I guess. Someone snatched my hand up with incredible energy and stared - must've been counting my fingers.
My hand was atop the tire, between the tread and the fender. The rotor struck the inside of my Huff, and the suspension rebounded. The fender bounced right off my knuckles.
I lost some skin, but all my digits are present. If the rotor had missed the wheel -- or if I was lowered -- I would undoubtedly
be typing a little more slowly today.
Hope you enjoyed this true story.
Be safe, and lucky.