The weather was nice for a change, the streets were clear and dry. Time to unwrap the Stude and take her out for a drive. Convinced the wifey (aka the boss) to come along and let the clothes washing go til another time. And off we went, windows down, tank full of petrol, the finest blues around playing in the cassette player. Life is good.
Eight miles out and the Stude bucked a couple times and promptly died. Coasting to a stop in an turnout, I ascertained that for reasons unknown, fuel was not getting to the carb. Surely can't be the fuel pump, as that was just replaced with one of those hi-priced super duper Carter fuel pumps in the fall.
Not because it NEEDED to be replaced, but simply because the one on there was of unknown vintage and it made a lot of racket at idle. So I got me a spanking brand NEW one and put it on....and voila, no more noise.
Anway, here we are stuck out in virtually the middle of nowhere and THEN we find out that neither of us has our cell phones with us. Ok....lock up the Stude and start hiking back to civilization to look for a pay phone.
Finally find one.....but no phone book with it (figures). Eventually convinced the operator to look in HER phone book and give me the number of a tow service in the general vicinity (she insisted I give HER the name of a towing service...whatever happened to common sense, anyway?)
Ok so I call the number and get this nice young lady on the other end who promises me there will be a tow truck out there in 45 minutes. So off we go BACK to the stranded Stude and wait....and wait....and wait.....
An hour and a half later I tramp back to the pay phone and call them back and ask what happened to the tow truck. The dispatcher says oh he was there but couldn't find the car, so he left and is now changing a tire for another customer. It'll be another 45 minutes before he can get back out to you.
Ok, whatever......so we wait again, and again, and again....and still no tow truck.
So an hour later, I tramp BACK to the pay phone and see what the hell is going on. I get the owner this time and he says to me, the driver was there again and could not find the car. He asks me exactly where I am located and what kind of car is it.
When I tell him it is a 62 black Studebaker GT Hawk, there is a bit of silence, and then he says STUDEBAKER?......the dispatcher said it was a Le Sabre.....some kind of Buick....she said you sounded like you were a bit, shall I say, "tipsy" and had slurred the words a little.
I didn't know whether at that point in time if I should yell at him, laugh, or simply cry. "Le Sabre"...."Studebaker"......ummmmm, I supposed there is a sort of similarity there, if the receptionist was "tipsy", maybe.
Anyway, to make this rather long an uninteresting story come to an end, after another agonizing 30 minutes the tow truck finally showed up and we got back home once again, where I checked the old Stude out and discovered the brand spanking new super duper hi priced Carter fuel pump had failed me.
I unbolted it and put the old "questionable" noisy one back on and it promptly fired right up and now runs smooth, albeit a bit clattery, once again.
I suppose there is a "moral" there somewhere to be found.....it just seems to have escaped me at the moment.
Ahhh, the joys of being the proud owner of a vintage Studebaker. (Le Sabre, indeed!)
Karl
1962 GT Hawk 4sp
Eight miles out and the Stude bucked a couple times and promptly died. Coasting to a stop in an turnout, I ascertained that for reasons unknown, fuel was not getting to the carb. Surely can't be the fuel pump, as that was just replaced with one of those hi-priced super duper Carter fuel pumps in the fall.
Not because it NEEDED to be replaced, but simply because the one on there was of unknown vintage and it made a lot of racket at idle. So I got me a spanking brand NEW one and put it on....and voila, no more noise.
Anway, here we are stuck out in virtually the middle of nowhere and THEN we find out that neither of us has our cell phones with us. Ok....lock up the Stude and start hiking back to civilization to look for a pay phone.
Finally find one.....but no phone book with it (figures). Eventually convinced the operator to look in HER phone book and give me the number of a tow service in the general vicinity (she insisted I give HER the name of a towing service...whatever happened to common sense, anyway?)
Ok so I call the number and get this nice young lady on the other end who promises me there will be a tow truck out there in 45 minutes. So off we go BACK to the stranded Stude and wait....and wait....and wait.....
An hour and a half later I tramp back to the pay phone and call them back and ask what happened to the tow truck. The dispatcher says oh he was there but couldn't find the car, so he left and is now changing a tire for another customer. It'll be another 45 minutes before he can get back out to you.
Ok, whatever......so we wait again, and again, and again....and still no tow truck.
So an hour later, I tramp BACK to the pay phone and see what the hell is going on. I get the owner this time and he says to me, the driver was there again and could not find the car. He asks me exactly where I am located and what kind of car is it.
When I tell him it is a 62 black Studebaker GT Hawk, there is a bit of silence, and then he says STUDEBAKER?......the dispatcher said it was a Le Sabre.....some kind of Buick....she said you sounded like you were a bit, shall I say, "tipsy" and had slurred the words a little.
I didn't know whether at that point in time if I should yell at him, laugh, or simply cry. "Le Sabre"...."Studebaker"......ummmmm, I supposed there is a sort of similarity there, if the receptionist was "tipsy", maybe.
Anyway, to make this rather long an uninteresting story come to an end, after another agonizing 30 minutes the tow truck finally showed up and we got back home once again, where I checked the old Stude out and discovered the brand spanking new super duper hi priced Carter fuel pump had failed me.
I unbolted it and put the old "questionable" noisy one back on and it promptly fired right up and now runs smooth, albeit a bit clattery, once again.
I suppose there is a "moral" there somewhere to be found.....it just seems to have escaped me at the moment.
Ahhh, the joys of being the proud owner of a vintage Studebaker. (Le Sabre, indeed!)
Karl
1962 GT Hawk 4sp
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