Woe, woe and thrice woe - Part the Third - A decision

Here it is! The blog post the world has been waiting for. Okay, thousands... okay, all my readers... okay... this is for Dawna.

When we left our intrepid blogger in Part the Second, it was 9:30 a.m. on a foggy Friday and she was hurtling westward at 112 kph, approximately 100 kms into a 672 km trip, sipping the world's worst coffee, with a dying cell phone, no car charger, a distressing wobble coming from the wheels and having just discovered the car's exhaust system was disturbingly grumbly.

So, I'm halfway to the first designated pitstop. The fog is still heavy, but it should clear soon as I turn inland. Normally, I love to drive. Toodling along at about 100 kpm down the highway on the way to somewhere fun is my idea of heaven. But it's hard to enjoy it when you're braced for disaster.

Despite the worrisome car symptoms and bad weather, I make good time and pull into the service station right on target. There's no point in asking about repairs here. Between servicing the community and serving as the usual port of call for travellers such as myself, there's no way they'll be able to look at my car. So I just stop long enough to stretch my legs, buy some real coffee (don't need gas - heh!) and soldier on to the next community about 2 1/2 hours along.

The weather clears as I drive west; the fog lifts and the pavement dries. It remains overcast. The plucky moose stay right where I want them... IN THE WOODS.

I reach the next usual pitstop in the cross-island drive, which shall remain nameless. Let's just call it The Town That Pretty Forgot or 3TPF. I exit off the highway to the usual major industrial drag with fast food place, including my beloved Tim's, to which I head for lunch. The traffic is unbelieveably heavy for a town of only about 13,000 or so. Luckily Tim's is on the right as turning left would be nearly impossible. As I sit eating my lunch, being stared at by the locals for being a stranger, I watch the seemingly never-ending traffic. Where the frap are they all coming from? Going to?

More importantly... are any of them mechanics?

So as I'm sitting there, I mull over my choices. Do I try to get repairs? There's a muffler repair shop right across the street. But the chances of getting in this late in the day is next to nill and even if I did, I'd never get out of there until about 5 p.m., which won't get me to the resort in time for registration.

Do I continue?

The last time my exhaust system sounded like this, it suddenly let loose and was so loud and vibrated so badly, I couldn't stand to drive at 50 kpms, never mind 100. There's no way I will be able to continue on if that happens. And there are long stretches of uninhabited areas to drive through. If the car breaks down there...

But I've got all the materials needed to set up the registration desk in my trunk.

So... there is nothing for it but to soldier on.

It's now about 1:30 p.m. This is going more swimmingerly, by the moment, don't you think?

Next up: Woe, woe and thrice woe - Part the Fourth - What's that on the road... a head?