Hitchin’ a Ride with Tiny
So, as I’ve been bitching about in the social networks the past couple days or so, my Honda’s clutch has been letting go. It’s only got 32,000 or so miles on it, I think (don’t really pay that close attention), so for the average car that’s early. For San Francisco, not as much… especially when you add in my bad habits like riding the clutch down the hills and jackrabbit starts.
I’d done my research and had gotten a few estimates and was fairly satisfied with one place in particular and their nearest appointment was early next week. In the meanwhile, my girlfriend got a recommendation from a coworker for this guy in Oakland who apparently does great work and charges a decent price. I called and he said he’d have to check the car out (even though I was convinced it needed a new clutch). I can’t fault the guy for wanting to see the car first, I wouldn’t give estimates over the phone if I ran a garage, so I started to drive the car to his shop… in Alameda… across the bridge from San Francisco.
Well, I guess the clutch had gotten worse than I originally thought. While the car had been running fine as long as you baby it, I was finding, which crossing the bridge, that fourth and fifth gear were completely useless. So, I crossed the bridge at 40-55mph in third gear. As I took the Broadway exit off the 880 freeway, I found that third gear had also become useless. I chugged along 5th in second gear at approximately 20mph, getting honked at by several angry motorists around me. I was so close to the shop, but had yet to go through the tunnel to Alameda. I did not want to get stuck in that tunnel.
Panicked for what to do, I pulled off to the side of the road to check the route on my iPhone before entering the tunnel. Yep. Piece of cake. As long as first and second gear held out, I could get there in about a minute or two. So, I put the car first, let out the clutch, and watched the tachometer needle rise to 6K. Nothing. I tried reverse. Nothing. All the other gears; nothing. Dead in the water. As the car sat idling in fifth gear, I wanted to kick myself for dropping AAA.
I called the shop and told them what had happened. They told me the truck would be there soon, and it was. The driver was a nice guy… not condescending in the way some mechanic folk can be, which I had been expecting when he found out I’d killed the clutch in a car with 32,000 miles on it (and I wasn’t a girl or “one o’ them fruity types”).
As I was waiting for him to hook the car up, I decided to drop my computer bag into the cab of the tow truck, and as I approached the cab, something came scrambling out of the rear sliding window and onto the toolbox behind the cab. In a shot, the blur turned into this:
This is “Tiny.” Tiny is the tow truck’s anti-theft system. Fortunately for me, Tiny seemed to like me… that is as long as I tolerated being licked when Tiny felt like it and Tiny got to sit on my lap for the trip. I like dogs, so I obliged… I think even if one didn’t like dogs, they’d be obliged. Sweet dog, but not the optimal lap dog. My leg was asleep for about five minutes after the ride.
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