Breakdowns, but Expected

I grew up with old cars. My dad seemed to enjoy working on them, knowing how they worked, knowing how to fix them, knowing a LOT about them. 

Once we tested him at night and found he was able to determine the make and model of several oncoming cars just from the headlights or taillights.

Not a Really Old Car

Growing up with someone like that, you're bound to wind up with a few interesting vehicles that pick you up from school. Like the yellow 1960s multi-door limousine, the white "short bus" with the big vertical doors, or the 1930s something that was so old-fashioned that you could see the oily guts of the engine by flipping up a panel on the side.

Quite a few fairly normal cars showed up as well. A handful of 1970s Cadillacs, a 1974 Chevy Impala, even a few new Hondas.

Travelling in most of these older vehicles involved blankets for the cold weather if the heater didn't work, a crank-open window for trips through the desert if the A/C didn't work ("It's 4-60 A/C: four windows, 60 miles per hour!"), and a steady gaze straight ahead to not get motion sickness by ignoring the road you could see flying by through the floorboards underneath your feet.

We were heading to California one day, I don't think it was a Snow Day, when we pull over near a thriving community called Seligman.

Not Anywhere in Arizona

"What's up?" Of course,  in preteen language this question came out more like a complaint than a query. But it's my story.

"Well, I think it's the alternator."  So, given what we know about my dad at this point, this doesn't seem strange. Perhaps this will be the first time that we'll have to use a tow service, or maybe we'll all take turns winding wire into coils to repair this piece of equipment.

He doesn't seem too annoyed and I found his calm demeanor rather odd. While my sister walked around outside with the dog, I went around to the back of the car where my dad was moving stuff out of the trunk.

Out comes the toolbox.  Good, so we're making progr....

Out comes an alternator. From the trunk. A spare alternator.

"Uh, dad, why did you just happen to bring an extra alternator?" Even at this age I know normal people don't carry a spare alternator.

"Well, I had a feeling it might go out for a while now."

In another 45 minutes we're on the road.

So that's the story, we break down an hour into our trip, we install the replacement part, and keep going.

A Spare Radiator?

I'm not sure if that's the same trip where the radiator blew while climbing the hills in So. Cal., having to spend the  night near a junk yard. I think THAT trip was the same one where a tire went flat, we didn't have a working spare, we got to wake up the Tire Repair Service guy, and my dad still seemed to complain about the cost.  

But I can't really remember, I guess I'm trying to block it all out.