I now know how it feels to be one of THOSE cars. You know what I mean. One of THOSE aging "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can" vehicles that limps up a mountain road at a stunning 30mph. I now know what it feels like to be THAT car - you know, the one holding up a line of traffic, hoping for a turnout area, a passing lane, or even better, a majestic scenic viewpoint to gaze upon while the car cools down to a temperature that doesn't pin the needle on H. A few weekends ago, I took my "new" 1986 Mazda B2000 to our local mountains, Big Bear to be exact, for a weekend Youth Group Summer Camp trip. The rear loaded down with an assortment of weekend essentials, I was stoked to have a usable, functional bed. After idling in stifling LA rush hour traffic for a few hours, we finally hit the mountains, where a sign indicated that we had 18 miles of steep, windy, uphill road remaining before arriving at our destination. This was okay, except that the Mazda was already running quite warm from all the idling. At that point, I figured 1/8 mile was probably all my poor truck could handle, not to mention 18! So, tapped out in third (and losing speed and precious horsepower with each foot of altitude we gained) we began our slow uphill journey. With no place to stop and no option to turn back, all I could do was keep moving forward, hoping that I wouldn't fry my poor truck. It had never occurred to me that taking this truck to the mountains would be a problem - silly me! I now have a new appreciation for old cars on mountain roads!
In the end, we did make it to Big Bear, and had a blast for the weekend. I was able to drive it home "successfully" as well. As it finally overheated the instant I pulled into my driveway, I locked up and walked away, just thankful to be home.
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