Chapter Eleven in the Saga of Just a Brazen Hussy
The trip to Coeur d'Alene • Help, I'm broken

The Damned Dreaded Deadline arrived.  It was Monday, June 12th, and at 8 AM we were to meet 38 other ancient autos and journey to Coeur d’Alene, ID.  The Hussy wasn’t finished on the inside, but as Pat Carr says, “You don’t need no stinkin’ interior!  You gots seats, belts, and instruments that work, what else do you need?”  But Claudette wasn’t happy – no radio.  And where was she going to stash all the miscellaneous sundries that a woman needs?  (How about beside the seat, in front of the seat, in back of the seat – hey woman, this is a hot rod – right Pat?) 

But on the outside – the Brazen Hussy’s beautiful.  The two shades of green are so pretty and shiny.  The bed is a work of art (what you can see of it – about 2/3rds of it was hidden by luggage, tools, gas, water, oil and parts – just in case, you know – after all this was the Hussy’s shake down cruise).

At a few minutes before 8 AM we drove into the appointed departing place for Big Dick’s Cruise to Coeur d’Alene.  Claudette gets even with me.  She insists that we park in front of the recycling bin.

I’m a bit nervous.  I have driven the Hussy to Sac-a-tomatos and back, and nothing happened; but a total of 200 miles isn’t really a test.  So when we stop at the grand metropolis of Chico I’m beginning to relax.  A couple of cars have some problems, but the Hussy seems strong.  Everything was getting better by the mile – until just before Redding, Bill, who was our pod’s donkey (I’ll explain all of the pod and donkey stuff a bit later) and immediately behind us, radios that we have just had our license plate fall off.  Damn those stupid plastic license plate bolts and double damn the idiot (me) who bought them and put them on.  We go off at the next ramp and back up Hiway 5 – three times we do this – and finally we find the plate, frame and month tag on the shoulder of the freeway.  Can’t find the year tag.  Ever drive on the shoulder of a major freeway at 5 miles an hour?  To hell with the year tag – so far nothing had hit us and we were still alive.  Let’s motor!

One of the good things about this incident was that now we had to catch up to the pod and that means I had to drive fast – real fast.  And this was fun!  The Brazen Hussy is one strong babe.  It wasn’t hard to go fast so we caught up to everybody at Weed.

Now about this pod and donkey business.  (For those of you who think you know – go to the next paragraph.)  Big Dick (I still have a hard time saying that – I was brought as a proper young man) divides his tour groups into pods – groups of 7 to 9 cars.  Some of these pods have been together since Hector was a pup (I don’t know what that means, but it sounds good) and they can be pretty incestuous (I don’t know what that means either).  Each pod is supposed to take care of each other (oh – now I get what incestuous means) and to aide in that delusion, the last car in the pod is the donkey.  The donkey is supposed to be a pretty good mechanic.  In our pod (3) Bill is the donkey – and he is a damn good mechanic.  Our pod leaders were Wayne and Alzina, and they are real cool dudes.  They run our show with a steady and calm hand.  Our pod wasn’t the fastest, but we always got there and mostly together.  And nobody was upset about anything either.

When we arrive at our first stop, Klamath Falls, I obtained bolts, washers and nuts from Big Dick (I’m sorry Mom, but everyone calls him that), and reattach the license plate.  I’m beginning to think that the Brazen Hussy is a good ol’ girl after all.  The front suspension will reset any loose teeth you may have but, all-in-all, she’s a fine ride.  Claudette had even managed to find hidey-ways for all of her miscellaneous sundries.

Tuesday presents a new challenge – rain.  We had endured the wait for lunch at the Crater Lake Lodge and were on our way to Bend, OR (or what?) when we encounter drops of moisture.  These drops become a torrent.  The windshield wipers worked really well.  (See Pat, I told you that they were a good idea.)  But the problem was that the windshield leaked – in many places.  Claudette grabbed the tissue box and started stuffing and mopping.  I started praying because there was one big leak coming from the cowl vent and it was coming down on my right foot – the go foot.  And it was cold water too!  “The children shall be made to suffer” – isn’t that in the Bible?  “And this too shall pass” – I know that is in the Bible.  And the rain did pass, but when we got to Bend my walk was very distinctive – plop, squish; plop, squish – you get the idea?  But I had a second pair of shoes, so all was well.

At Hood River, OR, we had an incident that demonstrates the value of the pod.  Len and Rose had the left rear tire on their T-bird blow up.  Terry and Kathy, who were behind them, had to dodge flying objects.  Len did a commendable job of getting the Bird to the shoulder, with the ‘55 Chevy, the Hussy and the ’36 Willys pickup behind them – the rest of the pod, who were in front of the Len & Rose, had to continue on to the next exit.  Fortunately, the Terry & Kathy ’s beautiful Chevy had no damage and our spare tire (Ford) fit the Bird’s (Ford) bolt pattern.  With a bit of work that a NASCAR crew would have been proud of, we were on our way to meet up with the Wayne & Alzina and the rest of the group.  We then continued our journey to Pasco, WA, where the Len got two new rear tires and I got my spare back.

An interesting sidelight of this adventure was the sheriff’s deputy who stopped to see if we needed assistance and informed us there were a bunch of “old cars” that were doing better than 80 mph and that a posse could be waiting for them.  A cell phone call to Big Dick provided a traffic advisory for the quick ones.  Ain’t modern technology wonderful?

The rest of the trip to Coeur d’Alene was uneventful, except for the Karaoke bar in the Red Lion Inn in Pasco, WA.  Kelly and Claudette sang and they were really good. 

The Coeur d’Alene part was a mixed review.  Driving around the lake was pretty and fun.  There were a couple of good places to eat, especially the burger joint that we parked in front of during the show.  This place had been in business since 1910 and there were great reasons why – excellent burgers and dirt cheap.  I also liked parking next to Nola and her newly acquired Cougar.  All the young studs and their fillies seemed to like the yellow convertible.  And Nola was in her glory.  Hey S.O.B., I think you’ve got a new problem on your hands – but maybe you know that already. 

Help, I'm broken

Everybody was on their own in getting out of Coeur d’Alene.  We wanted to leave early on Sunday and head south on Hiway (?) 95.  Wayne and Alzina in their ‘50 Chevy two-door, Bill and Pat in their ‘36 Willys pick-up, Lane and Val in their gorgeous ‘32 five window Ford coupe, and Lanny and Christina in their ‘34 Ford coupe and trailer decided to travel with us.  For some reason beyond common sense, we were elected leaders with Lane and Val bringing up the rear.  (Big, fat, naked tires can throw rocks.)  It was a very colorful parade – the Hussy in her two toned greens,  a shiny black Willys, a svelt red Chevy, a classic red coupe with trailer and a brilliant yellow, fenderless coupe with big, bad wheels.  People looked. 

We looked too!  There is one persistent fantasy that all car guys have:  It’s that they will discover, in a barn, or beside a run down house, a ‘32 three window Ford coupe, or some other wonderful piece of prized auto mania.  So, most of the conversation on the radios was about cars in fields or junk yards.  It went like this:  “Hey, Lanny, did you see that coupe on the left?”  “Hey, check out that sedan – it looks like a Hudson.”  Some day I’m going to buy a run down house on a rural road, and beside it I’m going put a piece of rusted-out, clapped-up junk that resembles a car.  I bet I’ll have more guys stopping to talk to me than if I opened up an ice cream parlor.  It was also interesting the sexist nature of the radio talk.  Men:  “If I was alone, I’d stop at that junk yard.”  Women:  “Isn’t this beautiful?  Look at those flowers.”

Hiway 95 (if you can call it a hiway) is a two lane road that runs north-south through the western part of Idaho.  Some of it is really pretty.  It’s a nice ride.  All was well – we had just come down a 6 mile, 7% twisty bit of road into Lewiston   and entered into the only 4 lane portion of the hiway at about 60 mph, when I heard a ”bang” and then the rear end of the Hussy started to dance.  Things got noisy and dicey.  I was thinking I’d blown a tire when Bill came on the radio and said, “Who’s got an extinguisher – he’s on fire!”  I glanced at the rear view mirror and saw Bill swerving about, trying to avoid my rear wheel and axel.  All I could think of was that the gas tank was above the rear axel and that was the cause of the flames and sparks I saw.  My next thought was that it was time to get the old girl off the road and quickly.  Fortunately, I remembered earlier lessons – stay off the brakes - and unknowingly, I dumped the auto tranny into a lower range and we got onto the shoulder of the road.  It took few moments to unhitch my fire extinguisher and get out.  When I got to the back end of the truck there was no fire.  It was then that I realized that the fire was caused by the sparks of the brake backing plate being ground down on the pavement, thus igniting the hypoid oil coming out of the rear end.  The right rear axel, brake drum and wheel were on the hiway, about five feet behind me.  Then I started shaking.

Let me tell you about traveling with members of the Roamin’ Angels – it’s a wonderful thing.  Bill was parked in front of me, having successfully avoided miscellaneous parts; Wayne, Lanny and Lane were behind.  Women were with Claudette.  Men were over, under and around the Hussy.  Everyone was involved.  Jacks appeared.  The wheel and axel were examined.  Cause was determined.  Praise was given.  Then a good Samaritan, named  Phil Hughes, of Cul de Sac, ID (hey, it’s on the map) arrived, followed shortly by the Idaho Hiway Patrol.  Flares and markers were put out.  The Hussy was raised by Bill, Wayne and Phil.  I got on the phone to AAA. 

The Hiway Patrolman was extraordinary.  He kept us posted on the arrival of the tow truck and that it was indeed a flat bed, all the while keeping traffic moving.  After a bit of discussion it was decided to insert the axel into the housing so that when the tow truck arrived we could get the Hussy onto the bed.  Water and towels were passed around.  Photos were taken.  And much talk ensued as to what happened (the inner, pressed-on sleeve that was against the bearing and holds the axel in place, had pulled out, releasing the axel – a very rare event I’m told).  In short, Claudette and I were taken care of in the most wonderful way. 

Once the Hussy was aboard the tow truck, and the necessary (?) photos taken, it was decided that the rest of the crew should depart.  Claudette and I were headed toward New Meadows, about 150 miles southward, where our son, Gordy, and his family live.  We were told we could get a car rental at the Lewiston airport and that repair would commence on Monday.  With a bit of sadness we watched the posse ride off into the afternoon sky and counted our many blessings:  It hadn’t happened on the 6 mile, 7% twisty, downhill section; That it had happened on the only 4 lane stretch of hiway in this part of the state; That the Hussy had no body damage; That there was no fire; That we had met the nicest good Samaritan and the nicest hiway cop in the world; That nobody was hurt; And that we had had a wonderful demonstration of caring and friendship.  We were truly blessed!

The tow truck driver delivered the Brazen Hussy to “My Mechanic” and then took us to the airport.  The gal at the Hertz counter took pity on us and instead of giving us the only car available (a gas guzzling Explorer), she traded it for a  Subaru.  “You’ll save on gas this way.  These other people are just staying in town.”  What a good heart!  Three hours later we were with our son’s family for our planned two day visit.

Monday “My Mechanic” tried to locate a used axel and a brake backing plate.  I made the 300 mile round trip to discuss things with them.  On Tuesday, after learning that no axel and backing plate were available, I decided to use the old axel.  I wanted both sides of the rear end to have new bearings and to press on new bearing keepers (tack weld them in place, please), use the ground down backing plate, do the brakes on both sides (the right side brake shoes had been ground down, as was the adjusting screw), bleed all the brakes and get me on my way.  By 2 PM the Hussy was ready.  After the crew at “My Mechanic” tried to convince me the Hussy really liked it in Lewiston and wanted to stay, I paid my bill ($361 – can you believe it? – these were great guys) and I was on my way to show my son and his family what the Brazen Hussy looked like.  Another 300 mile round trip – the last 150 miles being a very nervous drive.

On Wednesday, after showing off the truck to the guys where Gordy works, we departed.  As the day wore on I became less nervous and we settled into the drive through the high desert of Oregon and Nevada, arriving in the late afternoon at Winnemucca.  Claudette reminded me that it was our 47th anniversary (I guess I had other things on my mind).  We hoped “Cars” was playing in Winnemucca, but instead we saw “Over the Hedge”.  It will be an anniversary we will always remember.  At least Claudette remembered it!  (I’d better remember the next one!)  Thursday we got home to many phone calls from our pod members wanting to know how we were and how the Hussy was.  Very nice!

So, Mom, my truck broke!  But it’s all right!  No real damage done.  And after 2100 miles I can truly say we had a shakedown cruise.  And speaking of shaking down, the first thing I have to do is fix the front end so that every pot-hole and crevasse in the road is not a bone-jarring experience.  Then, maybe, Claudette will be willing to take another ride in the Hussy – oh, I’ve got to do the radio too.  I’ll find a brake backing plate and put it on – but the rest of the rear end, tack welds and all, will stay in place.  The ground-down brake backing plate will be mounted in the garage, the beginning of my garage art collection.  Finally, I think I’ll get to the interior.  Maybe I can finish her before next year.  Then I won’t have to write anymore of these articles.  Oh yeah!

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