Friday, May. 16, 2008
John Spevak: Car tales
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ReprintPeriodically I like to write columns that could be called cautionary tales, alerting readers to beware of and perhaps avoid problems I've encountered.
Columns like these also provide therapy for me because I feel better after I talk about, or in this case write about, challenging experiences.
Today's column involves two tales about driving vehicles. In my case it's about driving my Honda Civic, a good little reliable car. I've been driving this car since I married Sandy. She had picked it out and taken good care of it for its first 5,000 miles.
I have driven it for the next 150,000 miles, commuting to Merced and taking it to many other places in northern California. For the first 146,000 miles I encountered zero problems on the road, primarily because I was lucky.
In the past 4,000 miles, however, I encountered two problems that brought my car into a repair shop (neither of them, though, were the Civic's fault). Perhaps my readers can learn from these experiences and exert a little more caution on the road.
In the first instance I was driving home from Merced, south on Route 165 in January. This is a pleasant drive because the wetlands along both sides of the road are actually wet and the foothills to the west are turning from brown to green.
One of the problems, however, in driving Route 165 at any time of the year is the crossing of animals. There have been times over the years when cows or steers have gotten loose and saunter across the road, as well as the frequent scampering of squirrels and other small varmints.
One evening I saw out of the corner of my eye something between a squirrel and a cow try to sprint across the pavement. This is where all drivers in Central California have to make a split-second decision: swerve, brake, or keep on going. Traveling roughly around 55 miles per hour (I wouldn't want to incriminate myself in print), braking was not an option.
To swerve or not to swerve became the question. The problem is I couldn't gauge the speed of the animal. In the twilight it seemed to be either a large raccoon or a small wild pig and it looked like it was going to just make it across the road before I hit it.
Unfortunately, this was not a nimble animal and I ended up clipping it with the right side of my car. I could hear a firm thump, but my car seemed to be OK--until I arrived in Los Baños and made a left turn toward my home, when I heard a scraping sound near the right front wheel well.
I made it home, took out a flashlight and inspected the car. The front bumper was bent, the rubber shield between the right front tire and fender had come loose, and something was dripping onto the pavement. I couldn't tell whether it was blood from the animal or radiator fluid.
The next morning, on closer inspection, I realized I shouldn't try driving the car. I called my auto insurance claims agent and talked with a friendly person who fortunately assured me that my policy covers damage caused by animals skittering across the road.
When I talked to the fellow in the Los Baños repair shop, he said, "Hey, this happens a lot around here. We get a lot of business from cars running into animals on roads in the area." The shop ending up doing quite a bit of work, including repairing a damaged radiator.
I was without my car for about a week, but my insurance considered this part of my "comprehensive" coverage, the deductible for which was less than for a collision.
I'd like to say to my readers, as my cautionary advice, "Watch out for animals while you drive!" but I'm not sure that would do much good, since even the most watchful driver can be trumped by a foolhardy, slow animal.
Driving to the Bay Area a few weeks later for a conference in my recently repaired Civic, I felt pretty comfortable that I had experienced my one car problem for the year and didn't expect any more trouble. That was before I heard something that sounded like a change in road surface, the kind I hear when driving over the Sierras on pavement with a rougher texture to help cars navigate through snow and rain.
The funny thing was that the pavement on Highway 101 around Palo Alto didn't look that much different from what I had been driving on. After about ten miles of this I decided to pull off the road, get out my flashlight, and look at my tires. Maybe one was going flat.
A visual inspection showed that the inflation looked normal. So I dug through my glove box, found the tire gauge, and checked the pounds per square inch. That was fine, too. I said to myself it must have been my imagination.
So I got back on Highway 101 and drove the speed limit, along with many other cars darting by, for about a minute or two. That's when I hear a loud "BAM" coming from the back of my car that caused just a little concern as my car pulled first left then right. Fortunately, it wasn't a severe swerve and there weren't cars directly to either side of me.
I heard a thunk, thunk, thunk, coming for the rear driver's side tire, but I still was able to keep going. The tire wasn't flat, but something was wrong. I took the next exit, came to a stop sign, and pulled into a nearby lighted church parking lot.
I took out my flashlight and illuminated the tire. The tread had separated from the shell of the tire and had apparently been whipped around and thrown loose, but the tire still held the air; it wasn't flat, just shredded. Also damaged was the side portion of the back bumper. It looked as though a shark had chewed on it.
To make a seemingly endless story short, I had a tow truck driver put on my spare, and drove (slowly) another 20 miles to my conference destination. I bought a new tire the next day, drove back to Los Baños, and called my insurance company. The person I talked with wondered if she was experiencing déjà vu, but I explained a different bumper was involved. I was glad she didn't laugh. As I write this column, my car is still in the shop.
So, dear reader, be careful. If you hear a strange road noise, check not only your tire inflation but your tread. If it looks like it's separating at all, stop right there and change your tire.
This column has been brought to you as a public service by Drivers Anonymous, seeking to help others avoid misfortunes encountered by columnists who drive too much.
(Comments on the writings of John Spevak, a regular Enterprise columnist, are encouraged and can be sent via email to spevak@telis.org.)