A Run To The Diz

My first marriage was not nearly as much fun as my second, but there was some fun. We put together a camping trip to Walt Disney World's Fort Wilderness Resort. Early one Saturday morning Johanna and her son Brandon and I set out for Central Florida with Heather Bowers and Barbara Heston along for the ride (HB & BH) in Johanna's Chrysler Cordoba. We hauled ass up I-95 headed for Route 192. We almost made it to the exit when suddenly huge amounts of steam came billowing out from under the hood. Johanna pulled off the road, and a car pulled off behind us. I opened the hood and gazed stupidly at the mysterious tangle of stuff under the hood. The stranger from the car behind joined me. "Look, your coolant hose split right there." He whipped out a screwdriver, removed the offending part and said, "Come on!"

I shrugged at the four people in the Cordoba and followed the stranger to his car. He took me into Melbourne, where he knew all of the auto parts stores and all of their employees. The second one he tried was open this early. He took the hose in with him, I bought a replacement at the discount price my benefactor would pay, and we returned to the car. He reached into the back seat and pulled out a five gallon water bottle, which he filled at the spigot out front of the store, and we were on our way back. John, for that was his name, installed the new hose, refilled the cooling system with water, and watched for a minute while the engine ran cool as a Cordoba with no additional problems.

I tried to give him money, but he refused. He drove off into the sunrise. From belching steam to resuming trip had taken less than 45 minutes and five bucks. It's almost enough to make a body believe in angels.