Here’s the thing. I can’t drive a stick.
Or at least not well. And that poses an issue when the vehicle you’re buying is a standard. Thankfully, my mom knows how. She also learned on vehicles made pre-1980. She was the lucky contestant on getting LuLu home.
Bringing home LuLu has been unlike any car experience I’ve really ever had. Most of the time, you buy a car, you turn it on, and you drive it home. Not LuLu. Robert’s biggest concern getting her home (post blown tire) was that he’d never driven her down I-70 before. She arrived on a trailer, and yeah, he’d driven her around his mountain town, but never down I-70. The grades on I-70 west of Denver have warnings plastered all over them. Semi-trucks need to stay in lower gears and there are runaway truck ramps. Brakes catch fire sometimes.
We were going to have to take a 6% grade to get her to Denver and his nerves became my anxiety. I didn’t really have an option for bringing her back on a trailer and he did say we could take her around through Morrison and she’d be okay. That’s what I decided to do, except I didn’t do my homework well enough. I made the decision not to take I-70 and it was a fateful one, indeed.
After a couple of hugs from Robert and a kindest welcome to the VW community, my mom got in the driver’s seat and we took LuLu to gas her up. Surprisingly, with a quarter tank left, she only took 5 gallons. My niece drove my moms car behind us since I was navigating and she didn’t have service without WiFi.
Soon enough, we were on our way. My mom did an amazing job at driving LuLu and you could tell she was super at home in a 1973 standard. I was a little nervous because the area had more inclines and curves than I wanted my mom to have to deal with, but otherwise we were doing great.
About 45 minutes after we embarked, however, things changed. Quickly. Going up a long incline, my mom suddenly asked what happened. Obviously, I had no idea what she was talking about because we were still moving. LuLu sounded no different than she had been sounding. With me not being the driver, I had no way to understand that we had just completely lost power. LuLu didn’t jerk. She didn’t whine. Nothing popped. She just died. And on the side of a mountain, no less.
In that moment, all of the excitement I had and the happiness I was feeling was replaced with pure anguish. I had anticipated that this would happen at some point, but I figured we would at least make it home.
I was wrong.
After some discussion, I was hoping she got hot and died, but I was fearing she ran out of oil and we blew the engine. My mom, on the other hand, was sure she was out of gas. We both silently thought maybe it was a carburetor issue, but I guess we must have both realized we couldn’t do anything about that so it was best just to address what we could work with. That meant we needed to get gas. And maybe some water. And maybe also some oil. Just in case.
Remarkably (and thankfully), I somehow managed to have cell service in this one area. It is a part of Colorado I am completely unfamiliar with, so I took to good old Google Maps and found a gas station not too far away. Somewhat reluctantly, I took my niece and we left my mom and LuLu on the side of the mountain and went to get gas.
It took maybe 20 minutes to get to Deckers and upon our arrival we discovered that no, there was no gas station. Google Maps was wrong. Even worse, I no longer had cell service. I was fed up, tired, worried, and hungry. Google Maps did lead us to a small row of stores made up of an ice cream shop, a convenience store, and a liquor store. There were no gas cans but we managed to relieve ourselves and get a jug of water. We talked to the gal manning the convenience store who said we could either drive 23 miles to Woodland Park to get gas or back up past where we were stuck. She also directed us to stand outside the ice cream shop to use their WiFi.
Feeling rather dejected now that I’d wasted all this time just to come up essentially empty-handed, we took the shorter route and drove back up to where my mom and LuLu were. We updated her on what we’d found out. My mom was happy as a clam to stay with LuLu, who she had apparently bonded with while we were hunting for gas. On our way we went but by this time, I knew we were running into dwindling daylight. It gets dark fast in the mountains and it gets cold quick.
Eventually, we made it back to Conifer. Got some snacks, some oil, a gas can, and some gas. I made it maybe a mile before I decided to turn around and get a second gas can. The cashier clearly thought I was crazy when he asked me “are you sure?” but I confirmed yes, I was sure. Yes, I was stranded. And yes, if my car drank up more than 5 gallons of gas and ran out, the 4 gallons of gas in these gas cans would surely be necessary.
Spoiler alert. She wasn’t out of gas.
Once we arrived back at LuLu, we filled her up with as much gas as she would take and we climbed in to be on our way. As she’d done several times before, she fired right up. Then, she promptly died. Now, me personally, I do not like to keep trying at things. I’ve had enough bad experiences to know that I’m just going to stop before I make it worse. My mom, on the other hand, is very adamant that if she keeps trying its bound to work.
Countless attempts later, we called a buddy who told us it may be a clogged fuel filter. I reached out to Robert and he confirmed this had not happened to him before. We looked into the engine compartment and there was nothing remarkable. We didn’t think to bring tools, so we tried to take the fuel filter off with a dime, but we couldn’t manage to get the hose off. LuLu made it a few feet after that but that wasn’t enough. We were faced with a decision…leave her there or call a tow.
It was at this time that anguish turned to despair. A tow was going to be extremely expensive, so I was inclined to leave her there. I didn’t have a key to lock her doors, though, so I didn’t want to abandon her at risk of something happening. Night had officially fallen and it was freezing outside, so I had to make decision. If you remember, decisions are not my strong suit.
As with most things in my life it seems, my hand was almost forced. I called towing company after towing company. If anyone answered the phone at all, they all had the same response: we don’t service that area. Finally, I got ahold of someone in Denver who would come and tow us, but it was going to cost upwards of $500. Insult to injury.
With that, I decided that the only thing we could really do was leave her there. The following ride home was absolutely miserable. The fact that LuLu hadn’t even made the drive home successfully was compounded by the fact that had I just chosen to take I-70, we might not have even broken down. And if we had, it would’ve been in a populated area where people could help us.
What I failed to mention earlier is that while I was on hunt for gas, I discovered that this road had a 5% grade, a 6% grade, and FOUR MILES of an 8% grade. So not only did I make the wrong choice, I made the worst choice.
The entire reason I made the trek that day was to avoid the incoming snow storm. If there is one thing I absolutely did not want to do was drive an unfamiliar vehicle in the snow on unfamiliar roads. No other options available, we left LuLu on the side of the road with a snowstorm expected the following day.
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