Day 5 (Sidney, NE to Underwood, IA): What-could-possibly-go-wrong-next paranoia
Monday (intended overnight stop: home; actual overnight stop: Underwood, Iowa)
First thing in the morning, we call John Twist, University Motors' dean of vintage MGs. He reveals the required fuel-flow rate and gives us some of the best news of the trip: the new fuel pump can be installed under the hood so that it pulls fuel through the original pump near the right rear wheel, minimizing the need for working under the car and wrestling with cruddy fuel lines.
This is great news because we'll be working in the gravel parking lot of Sidney's NAPA store, where two Montana-bound hunters keep us company while they replace the water pump in their late '90s Dodge Ram. It's a good thing that my co-driver is an electrical engineer at Corrsys-Datron, an automotive-sensor company, and has tons of experience working on his dad's 1954 Ford tractor--this skill set is highly useful for working with the MG's Lucas electrical system. Not wanting to waste time properly wiring the new pump to the ignition, we connect it right to the battery and mount a toggle switch under the dash. Because the car uses a positive--not negative--ground, we wire the pump backward so that the fuel flows the correct direction, and we superinsulate the charged pump from the fender with a piece of rubber cut from the old bias-ply's inner tube.
By 1pm, after checking our handiwork and buying a fire extinguisher just in case, we're eastbound and down on I-80. The temperatures are warm, the sun is shining, the windows are down, the heater is off, and our speeds are fast. This is what we'd foolishly expected for the entire trip. The only map we brought along--a U.S. road atlas circa 1974--inhales small Nebraska towns, and our mood improves exponentially. We even enjoy a sightseeing break at an original Pony Express Station in Gothenburg, Nebraska.
Once valuable daylight goes away, we feast on the Lincoln, Nebraska, Cracker Barrel's tasty chicken 'n' dumplin' dinner. For the first time this week, we continue driving after dinner, with renewed vigor and full stomachs. Nearby Omaha is the first big city we've seen since Salt Lake, and dicing with traffic on I-80's rutted lanes keeps us attentive. Strangely, the lanes seem rutted east of Omaha, too, and the MG isn't responding very well to these conditions. No worries. We've reached the Iowa state line, and we've got lots of time to make up, so the drivers shall decide when to stop driving today, rather than having our arrangements dictated by Mother Nature or Father MG ...
KA-WHAM! The left rear tire suddenly goes flat, and I dart onto the exit ramp for Underwood, Iowa, stopping before any wheel damage can occur. The emergency triangle reappears, and we swap out the spare, using the car's lead hammer to loosen and then retighten the wheel knockoff. It's definitely time to call it a night, because when the tire (which had presumably been leaking since Omaha) first went, we'd worried that the sound might have actually resulted from one of those primitive knockoffs coming loose (which they're known for), liberating a wheel to go bouncing into the darkness. Instead of attempting any more miles, we promptly ensure the tightness of all four knockoffs. Later, we loosen the caps on some Pabst Blue Ribbons at the Underwood Motel's bar, where we meet a tough, young Iowan named Joel who says that the shop where he works can repair our inner tube in the morning.
Miles driven: 417 ...next page >>