I feel really horrible about this but I might have to let my mother go. She produced a nice little story yesterday but it wasn’t really automotive was it? Meanwhile, Sarah’s mom Rosemary seems to be a real driven self-starter and she needs very little supervision. With my mother, I practically have to call her every day and ask her questions to get the content. Which I think she is doing on purpose. Here’s a great little story by Rosemary, which she submitted without me even asking. She’s such a gem! Don’t feel bad for my mother, I’m sure there are other blogs that would be a better fit for her and in the long run she’ll be happier.
Now here’s Rosemary’s story with a hero part at the end, which I don’t think would ever happen today.
In 1961 we bought a brand new red VW convertible Beatle in Germany. Move ahead to 1970 and I am driving same car, fully loaded with stuff, accompanied by my then two and a half year old daughter Sarah and almost eight months pregnant with my daughter Jennifer. We are tooling along the Taconic Parkway on our way to our “country house” in Pleasant Valley, NY when I notice a small read light flashing on the dashboard. Since the car was bought in Germany its’ parts are identified in German. No idea what it says under flashing red light. Near Fahnsstock State Park I notice great billows of very black smoke emerging from area of motor in rear. Good sense tells me to get off road and get child and me out of car. Black smoke can’t be good. For a minute or twenty I stood (hanging onto my child) and watched smoke and then flames erupting from motor. A car pulled off behind me, a man jumped out, opened his car trunk, pulled out a fire extinguisher (who knew?) and doused the flames. “What happened???” he said. “Well there was this little red light and then smoke and then ……” “OMG” said he – “that was probably the oil light – you ran out of oil and the motor seized”. He then loaded my stuff into his car and drove Sarah and me to our house, made me a roaring fire, suggested I have cup of tea and left. I never even got his name.
Now the moral of this story is – never buy a car that doesn’t speak English.
That’s what Rosemary might’ve got out of the story. What i got out of it is if you break down, it should be 43 years ago.