At around 4 p.m. we were getting close to Nashville, when I noticed traffic backed up for as far as I could see. Seeing a sign for an Outback Steakhouse, I decided to quickly exit and have a good early dinner instead of fighting stop-and-go traffic. When I went to stop at the end of the off-ramp, I noticed that the brake pedal was soft. Our first problem! Pulling into the parking lot, I saw that the curbing was cut at an angle and would make a perfect ramp. I backed the car up to the top of the curb and was able to climb under it. I found a hard brake line leaking at a T-fitting, and tightening it did not solve the problem. We made a quick trip to Auto Zone to buy a replacement line and we returned to Outback to use the make-do repair facilities. I replaced the line and, with Lee's help, bled the brakes. The steak sure tasted good, and when we left it was clear sailing through Nashville.
We stopped somewhere in Arkansas the second night around midnight and attempted to get a room at a motel. Lee went into the lobby to make arrangements but shortly returned. In a stunned voice he said, "You are not going to believe this, but all of my credit cards have been rejected!" I went in and tried a credit card I knew had a high limit and a zero balance. The man behind the counter took my card and began punching numbers into a computer. Looking up at me, he stated this card was no good either! I asked him to call the customer service number. He stated that it wouldn't do any good because he could not let us have a room without a computer authorization. I offered to pay cash, but he still declined.
We went further down the road and successfully procured a room using one of the "bad" cards. It was only when we got the room and I saw myself in a mirror that I realized why we had been denied a room. Our eyes and faces were bright red and our hair was a wind-blown mess. Lee and I looked like we were in the middle of a drinking binge! It is the only time in my life that I felt like I had been discriminated against, and it didn't feel good.
We left early the next morning and settled into our normal routine. We would drive for three hours, stop, refuel, grab a snack, and quickly get back on the road. The car had electric gauges, and I had not had time to calibrate them. The speedometer always read 160 mph, the gas gauge registered half-full when full, and full when half-empty. Our fuel tank holds 15 gallons, and our consumption averaged three gallons per hour. So we had plenty of range-unless you don't really fill the tank!
We were into an extra long stint when I felt the motor stumble for the first time. I instantly knew that we were running out of gas. I slowed down and hoped to nurse it to the next exit with fuel but ran out miles short. Lee called AAA and within 30 minutes a truck arrived with two gallons of gas. On our car you access the filler by opening the trunk. As we stood there holding up the trunk lid, a string of four semi trucks roared past. The suction was strong enough that it actually snapped the driver-side trunk hinge in two! I unbolted the hinge and, using the holes for the hinge bolt, zip-tied the hatch to the deck and used duct tape to make a piano-style hinge. It didn't look pretty, but it held for the rest of the trip. We told Paul to bring a new hinge when he came out.