So, from the pictures you can see that the ride through Arkansas, Louisiana, and into Mississippi was pretty smooth. I made good time, got to see a beautiful sunrise over huge crops of corn and peppers, and Jeremy got some rest in. Soon after we got into Mississippi, we were going to have to stop for gas and switch out driving.
As I was pulling off the road to refill on gas, I heard a clanking noise. We were right by a construction site, so I thought it was all of the machinery until I rolled my window down and heard the noise was coming from under my hood. Jeremy thought the oil was low, so he added a little in, overfilling it enough to make my car start smoking on top of everything. We were now riding down Highway 49 in Richland, MS with a smoking, rattling car. We pulled off on a small country road, thinking we would just empty a little of the oil out. Of course, we didn’t have a wrench to undo the oil plug and let some of the oil drain off. After 5 or 6 cars passed by, asking us did we need a phone or any help, an older black gentleman in an old truck pulling a trailer of tree limbs drove up. He looked like one of those old men you see in the pictures drinking moonshine and playing his guitar to his dog, and he had almost no voice to speak. Jeremy asked him if he had a wrench, and he just happened too. He pulled his truck off to the side of the road, and while Jeremy let the oil drain into a bottle, the old man directed traffic, waving at everyone as they drove by. It was like a scene out of a movie. He walked over and warned Jeremy not to let too much oil out because he was on a hill. As he was walking off, I hear Jeremy scream. The oil plug slipped all the way out, and all of the oil was leaking out now. All I can do at this point is grab every bottle we have laying in the car and try to salvage as much oil as possible. Jeremy got the plug back on the oil tank, and I carefully put all of the oil we had (about 1 qt.) back in the car. The old man told us how to get to the nearest gas station, and followed us to the main road. The car stopped smoking, but it was still making that horrible noise. On top of that, I noticed that one of my belts was almost shredded to pieces.
I looked up the nearest AutoZone, which was a mere 4 miles away. I turned and headed down the highway, but we ran into an O’Reilly Auto Parts first, so I stopped there, thinking that they would probably be helpful. I got the oil, and walked up to the counter to wait on Jeremy. Once the guys figured out which belt I needed to replace, Jeremy and the customer rep came back in to finish ringing us up. We needed a new power steering belt, which we got, but the worker told us he didn’t know how to put it on. Just my luck, right? He referred us to his coworker, who came and took a look under the hood. He told us that he didn’t have the tool to remove the bolt and replace the power steering belt, and with a closer look he showed us why our car was clanking: the top ac pulley bolt fell off. The pulley and belt fell off, as well. The pulley got lodged between the power steering and the bottom ac pulley, and the guy said he didn’t know what to do. He sent us up the road to a mechanic, not knowing if the mechanic would be open since it was Saturday. I am really spoiled living in a city where mechanics are readily available any day of the week.
We drove on up the road, clanking as we rode the speed limit. We pulled into the mechanic’s and, of course, they were closed. Jeremy popped the hood, determined to get the pulley out. With a few strategic moves with a crow bar, we finally dislodged the pulley. The noise stopped, and we headed to AutoZone, hoping the shredded power steering belt would make it.
We pulled into AutoZone and asked for a tool that we could use to change the power steering belt. The gentleman inside was much more helpful than the guys at AutoZone. He told us how to change the belt and informed us that the ac belt was what was missing. So, now we were going to be without ac all the way to Florida, and we were almost 5 hours out with 5 hours to make it to the gig. Off down Highway 49 we went, on the way to Florida, praying we would make it on time.