Car died just after I paid from the Jersey side, but before I got into the tunnel. I managed to find a Maxima-sized triangle where cars were not going. There is (was?) a pay phone near the toll booths, but of course, it faced traffic and was about as useful as a fart in a windstorm. Called AAA - they said it’s Port Authority’s problem. Called Port Authority, they said they’re responsible for only breakdowns in the tunnels. Back and forth until tears of frustration and a premium account convinced AAA to come and get me. 6 hours later, I was on my way back home, having eaten some of the blueberry pie and cheese I was bringing to my aunts for a dinner we never had.
The tunnel people were nice and after about 20 minutes, pushed me to the far right side where I could sit more safely.
When I was first learning to drive with a standard shift I stalled at a ‘T’ intersection. The guy behind us got out of his car yelling…That was the first ever and only I ever saw my dad get in any ones face. Protecting me. Yeah Dad!
It would have been heavy traffic had it been a bigger city. In my idiot youthhood, I ran out of gas while stopped in the middle of an intersection waiting to make a left turn. But in Champaign, IL the streets just weren’t trafficked enough to qualify as “heavy”.
Not so much a car breakdown, but an illustration of the milk of human kindness in action (not!)
In 2003 I was driving south down I-5 (for you SoCal dopers, the stretch between UCSD and the I-8 interchange). A brush fire was raging in the median, fed by the scruffy shrubby crap Southern Californians call vegetation.
I was in the far left lane when I saw the blaze. Traffic was held up as drivers changed to the far right lane; I got stuck with flames flaming about two feet from my car. I desperately tried to cut into the lanes safe from fire but NO ONE WOULD LET ME IN!! :mad:
I was getting ready to sacrifice my car to the Goddess of Fire and flee when a fire truck made its way through the traffic mess and made a space for me to dart into.
So glad my fellow humans would rather have sacrificed me to flames rather than stop their car for three seconds to let me in :dubious:
I was driving a rental when the engine died on a major highway during rush hour. Fortunately, I was on the inside lane so I rolled into the emergency lane.
A friend was following me, but she couldn’t pull in near me because she couldn’t get into the inside lane for a while and had to do the loop off the highway, over the bridge and back around. By the time she got back to me, a cop was already there. This was before cell phones, so the cop called the rental company somehow and told them where the car was. My friends took me with them, and I left the keys under the seat for the car company.
I think I was very lucky. I don’t know what the procedures were back then for women stranded on the highway, but it could have gone badly for me.
Not heavy traffic, but still pretty bad. Going up a long mountain road and van just stops accelerating. It would not go forward anymore. We have a 2 1/2 year old and 6 week old in the van. Manage to turn it around and roll down the mountain to a gas station where we waited for a tow truck and a rental car delivered to the gas station. Had to have the rear main seal replaced in the transmission on vacation - fun week.
Several years later, taking camper for a week long vacation. Traveling 70 mph on I-40 the leaf spring on the camper suddenly breaks. My husband manages to get the truck and camper to the side of the road, call a tow truck. My parents live half way between home and where we were going for vacation and we were due to meet them for lunch. The picked up the kids, we waited for the tow for the camper. Camper was fixed in about 6 hours and we were back on our way. Tow truck company gave us a discount because my husband is a fire fighter and the owner of the tow truck company was also a fire fighter. My parents and the kids got to spend some time together. Camper repair folks went out of their way to get parts from another dealership to get us back on the road the same day. We made it to our vacation destination several hours later than planned but still the same day.
Timing belt broke while driving through DC. Guy in a van was nice enough to nudge me to the side of the road. My wife and I were sharing a job at the time, so she took my place at work while I dealt with the car.
On I-90/94 in south Chicago, four kids in the car. I found out later that the fuel pump decided to quit on my 1988 Plymouth Voyager. I’m in the second lane, in traffic, and coming up on one of those merges where the bypass traffic is coming into the Interstate. Luckily there was nobody on my right and I coasted over into the triangular area where the traffic merged. Cars are flying by on both sides, and I have no clue as to what’s wrong with the vehicle. Cell phones aren’t invented yet, and everybody is freaking the fuck out. Sat there for a few minutes and gave the ignition a try. Cranked a few times and started! I quickly threw it in gear and took off, figuring I couldn’t be any worse off. It kept functioning until I got to my friend’s house in Great Lakes, then quit as I was coasting into the driveway.
Yep. I tried driving the '66 MGB to Seattle one day, and the alternator belt broke.
On a dorm trip to Museum of Science and Industry, we had to push start my RA’s Mustang in a toll booth .
Brian
A few times. My “best” was this classic moment.
First traffic light entering town from a 55mph highway, a 3-way intersection down the hill from a college as classes were getting out.
I had a brilliant idea to push it to the shoulder and wait (as it had done this before and would usually restart in 10 mins or so) that resulted in an asthma attack, getting dragged by my own car for 1/2 a block and said car rolling away, down the gently sloping street into a gas station and demolishing a pump.
I got a cracked wrist, banged up knees, a “pinch mark” were the back tire nearly ran over me and arrested for profound bad luck with aggravated stupidity.
I had a mental breakdown right on the inbound Dan Ryan. My dad had died a few days before and I really hadn’t had a strong emotional reaction – yet. And right there out of the blue there it was. I was suddenly overwhelmed by grief and started sobbing. I had to pull over and stop on a shoulder for maybe a half hour or more until I get it together again enough to drive.
I was on my way home from the first day of my weekend reserve meeting at the Santa Monica airport and had a flat tire on the 405 in Westchester. I pulled off onto the shoulder of the freeway on the left side (traffic was too vicious to get across to the right shoulder). it was at twilight, and Saturday evening traffic was, as I say, nasty.
I changed the tire on my VW with traffic roaring past a few feet away(fortunately the flat was on the left side; away from traffic.) My main concern was avoiding getting the Marine dress uniform I was wearing dirty or greasy as I had to wear it again the next day.
This was a good 45 years ago and I still remember it vividly.
Multiple times. The two most “awesome” incidents:
1988, major heatwave in Minnesota, temps over 100F. I had just picked my car up from the shop, had to have a new transmission. On my way to work, on a very busy highway, my car decided it just didn’t want to run anymore (I was also leaving a streak of some sort of fluid behind me). I cruised to the side of the road, pack up all my stuff, and started walking the half mile to the nearest place with a phone. Called my dad, who called the shop to come out and see what the hell happened.
I met Tweedledee and Tweedledum back at my car, I was melted by that point.
You know the little cap that holds the transmission fluid in? They didn’t. Forgot it. They happened to find a stick on the side of the road, approximately the same diameter as the drain cap, hammered it in, filled it with transmission fluid they happened to have in the back of their El Camino, and asked ME to drive it back to their shop. Nope. One of them drove it back, while I had the joy of riding in the El Camino trying not to touch anything (I don’t think it had ever been cleaned).
Second time, my little Plymouth. Ugly, but durable, car. Worked great, until I blew a connecting rod while driving down another busy highway. Scared the hell out of me. We’re talking metal through the hood spectacular fail. Luckily, by then I had a cell phone and it was all taken care of quickly.