Talk about a bad day....

So, I'm driving my '40 Ford coupe as fast as it will go (maybe 70) on a curvy, two lane highway in rural Arkansas. No hood or front fenders. We're in a curve and the oil line that comes out of the top of the block of a flathead V-8 broke.

Windshield instantly covered with oil. Can't see a thing. I looked out the side window and got it stopped without wrecking.

No tools, I'm 16, and cell phones hadn't been invented.

Looking around in the car, I find a wooden pencil and drive the sharp end into the fitting with a rock.

We made it home, put some oil in it, fixed the tubing and never looked back.

At least with classic cars you have a chance to fix it on the road with something out of your junk box, the way I kept my cars running through my High School and College years. (If it don't start, you're not getting gas or not getting fire).

Modern cars are very reliable, but if they break down, I wouldn't know where to start.

We lived on a hill. For a long time the starter didn't work and I had no money.

The only way I could start it was to push it to the edge and hop in and not kill it until I got back on top of the hill.

Great fun. I wish I had that car today.

As a teenager, had a small British car, a broken starter and no money. (Hillman Imp)

I parked when possible on a hill, but even on the flat, I could push it, jump in and jam it in 2nd gear and it would start (it was an easy starting engine!).

Got me REALLY fit!!! I could push an army tank uphill after that couple of months!!! With the brakes on!!!!

Driving home from work at 2 AM, when I was in college. It started to rain. I flipped on the wipers and the linkage immediately broke. No wipers. I was about 3 miles from home and almost nobody else on the road, so I kept going. After a few seconds the windshield was thoroughly wet and I was able to make out the center yellow stripe and the white edge stripe. Got home ok, but it was a white-knuckle drive, especially when there was the occasional car coming at me from the other direction.

I faced similar situation. I was in a taxi and the wipers did not work when it started raining. The taxi driver had some detergent soap. He rubbed the soap cake on the windshield. Within short time whole of the foam got washed and the windshield was clear. After that no water drops stayed on the windshield and the view through it clear enough to move at moderate speed.

I can think of 3 events.

The 1st was driving Mk. 2 Cortina along a bumpy winding country road when the bonnet catch failed, the bonnet flew up & bent itself over the top of the windscreen giving instant road blindness. Managed to stop & re-form the bonnet with a rock.

The 2nd was driving a Mini at night, the Mini had a fibreglass flip front & the cable loom for the front lights chafed through & shorted so I had smoke bellowing out. Had to re-wire the front end at the side of the road.

In a different Mini the pinch bolt clamping the steering column to the rack failed so I had no steering but managed to make it to the side of the road & find a replacement bolt.

As a teenager I had a Mini Moke - soft top, a little like a very small jeep, looks a bit like a roller skate when the top is down. It was painted black.

I had a fire in the wiring behind the instrument pod, stopped, switched off, jumped out and knocked on a house to call the fire brigade.

The fire died out by itself but the lady from the house came out to have a look. She saw the Moke and, thinking the black, open and low car she saw was a blackened, fire-gutted, burnt out wreck, squawked "Oh my G** that's terrible!". I hopped in did some rudimentary repairs to the wiring and was on my way.

If the battery was flat I could start it on a very slight slope using a method not unlike skateboarding!

So many, for me, I can't remember them all. Some that come to mind; My first car, a 1966/68/69/71...The title said 1969 (Kind of like the Johnny Cash song), VW Baja Bug. It had a dodgy starter. The car was light enough, that I could put it in reverse, hold the clutch in with my right foot and using my left foot, hanging out the the door, I could push the car backwards just fast enough to pop the clutch and it would start right up.

Same car, the throw out bearing some how came off of the clutch fork about 15 miles from home. So, I couldn't disengage the clutch. Using some of my basic tools, I bypassed the starter interlock. Luckily, it was geared low enough that I could start it in second gear and, if I was slow and careful, I could even up-shift. I had to kill the motor at every stop sign/red light but managed to make it home.

A hood was mentioned earlier. Yeah I had that pants wetting experience myself. 1979 Ford Bronco. Cruising along a country road at about 55 Mph. Saw my hood jiggle a little and, just as the thought registered, the latch let go and the barn door sized hood popped up, and turned the whole world white (the color of the truck at the time).

Tried to lean out the window to see, but it was no good. So, I just said a prayer to myself and slammed on the brakes and coasted to the side. By the grace of God, there was nothing and no-one in front of me. After coasting to the grassy area on the side of the road and spending the next few minutes hyperventilating. I went out to inspect the damage. The latch was shot and the hood had come up so hard, it actually dented the roof above the windshield! I lashed the hood down with some bailing wire, that happened to be holding the muffler on at the time. Then, I slowly crawled home, keeping it under 30 mph.

Good days

1936 Chevy Sedan, on the way to the Junior Prom, broken fan belt...coasted as far as we could...finally temp repair in a driveway with some clothesline rope...made it to a friends garage...went to the prom with grease on my WHITE pants! Had a great time never to be forgotten!

The most embarrassing breakdowns are the ones that are self-inflicted. I soaked my distributor while on a date trying to show off.

Obviously other four wheel drives had made it through a water filled mud-hole so I thought I could too, but I hit it too fast and the engine died in the deepest part. We were deep in the woods, at least 10 miles from the nearest phone and at least 3 miles from the nearest desolate paved road.

I climbed up and over the hood with only a pencil and a phillip's screwdriver, opened the hood while standing on the brush-guard, wrote a wiring diagram on the intake, removed the wires and cap and rotor, dried them on my shirt, and replaced them. I climbed back in the same way and the engine fired right up, we pulled out of the mud bog and drove back to town.

I don't know if it was the my mechanical prowess or the fact that I didn't get my feet wet, but she married me anyway.

Volkswagen Beatle, the throttle cable broke twenty some miles from home and late at night. Rode on back bumper operating the throttle lever while another drove. Had many strange looks from passing motorist.