Wheel logo

The Emotional Toils of Having a Blown Head Gasket

It's not all fun and games.

By C.G. RemmetPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
Like
My pride 'n joy 

So, there I was. It was around 10:30 at night, freezing cold outside, driving back from a friend's house. I was lightly buzzed and feeling good; my car had just gotten out of the shop yesterday, and it was running like a dream. It had been having an intermittent over-heating problem. It would run a little warm for a few minutes, then come back down to it's normal operating temperature. It wasn't much more than a nuisance, but I wanted it checked out and fixed. My biggest fear was a head gasket, but upon taking it to the shop, I was told it was nothing more than a sticky thermostat. I could expect as much from a car of its age.

Ever since it came home, it had been perfect. Its idle was smoother than it had been in a long time, and it hadn't gotten even a little warm. So, I expected nothing less than a pleasant cruise home this evening. I am not so lucky.

I noticed the temp jump out of the corner of my eye. Right away, I pulled over. I didn't hear the fan running... My first thought was that the sensor was fucked up, too. Not bad. I could manage that. It wasn't running too hot, just a little warm. I let it idle for a minute. One minute. The temperature dropped back down and I heard the fan kick on; I was instantly relieved. I was just about to pull back out into the street when the temperature jumped. My stomach dropped as I watched the needle quickly hop up to the dreaded "H". The car started to shudder and the check engine light flashed on.

The code reader I had plugged in read a P1299, cylinder overheat. I shut the car down and hopped out. In my borderline-inebriated state, I could think of nothing worse than the situation I had found myself in and was dreading doing my routine inspection under the hood. I popped the hood and found that the coolant reservoir was completely empty, but none had overflowed out of the cap, like it had with what I believed to be a faulty thermostat. Where did the coolant go? I knew exactly where it went.

Upon unscrewing the oil cap, the fate of Cylinder #7 was sealed. I had blown my head gasket. First thing I did was pity myself and my car. You see, I have an unhealthy love for my car. It was my grandpa's before it was mine. Some of my earliest memories are my grandpa and me cruising in the Lincoln. I have wanted that car to be mine since as long as I could think of such things. I saved and saved and when I turned 17, I bought the car off of my grandpa (he's not the type to give things away, especially a gem like that). I had blocked out the fact that my grandpa, being the penny pincher that he is, had neglected to maintain the car even slightly.

This evening though, as I trudged through the cold nighttime mist to Walmart to get enough coolant to get me home, I reviewed all of the errors my grandpa made in caring for my precious car. He got the oil changed every 10,000 miles, rather than three. When the original thermostat failed and the coolant overflowed the first time, rather than getting a new thermostat and coolant, he began just filling the overflow tank with water (my coolant has always been a nice, deep, rusty orange color). When he decided the overheating was a nuisance, he stopped driving the car and let it sit in the garage unused for months at a time.

And as I trudged through the misty night with two gallons of coolant, I began to think about the future of my vehicle. It was either $1k plus towards my Lincoln, or a new car. I could get a lease on a cheap little number with a satellite radio, heated seats, and way better gas mileage. The Lincoln is big, guzzles gas like it's going out of style, and is going to need maintenance out the wazoo.

But I love that damn car. I've loved it since I was two-years-old. I saved every penny until I had enough to buy it as my own. And I'd save every penny until I could get it running like new. As it came into view down the road, as I watched the misty haze make the expansive hood sparkle under the streetlights. I knew I wasn't getting another car. I'd invest my last dime into getting this hot rod running like new again. I'd go broke to get my car purring down the highway once more.

I filled it with as much coolant as it would take and cruised it home. I've now had a couple drinks in the warmth of my own home and am ready for a fun-filled day of making my way down to the car shop tomorrow morning and explaining to my boss why I won't be able to come in the next three days while they're rebuilding my engine.

My Lincoln is sitting out in the driveway, cooling off. As it will be for many years to come. It's not going anywhere.

art
Like

About the Creator

C.G. Remmet

I like music, mean jokes, and a variety of gas station snacks.

Painfully honest about the messes I get myself into.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.