Misadventures of Joe the Mechanic

Some of my earliest memories are of my dad and my uncle being shipped off to the hospital with broken noses or various broken bones from their waterskiing stunts. My thirst for adventure and love of story-telling was certainly inherited from my dad, so when he mailed me the only painstakingly hand-written copy of his latest story, I figured the time was ripe for a father-daughter collaboration.

Story by Joe Walts with his daughter Heather

It was still pitch black outside when Joe's alarm went off at 5:40am. Being mid-winter New England, the sun wouldn't be peaking over the horizon for another thirty minutes. It was an average weekday for Joe, the forty-nine year-old mechanic who calls the hill town of Wyben, Massachusetts his home.

Fighting the urge to go back to sleep under his warm blanket, the smell of coffee brewing roused Joe out of bed. That automatic coffee machine was a worthy investment, as it always seemed to do the trick on cold, bleak winter mornings like these.

Before indulging in the coffee that beckoned two rooms away, he commenced his rigorous morning fitness routine. Even though he knew that his fifteen year-old son was still three weeks away from returning to the mountains, Joe knew he needed consistency to keep his aging body able to snowboard. His son has injured his spleen about a month prior after a bad fall on the mountain, but being like his dad he would certainly be raring to go back again the moment he's cleared by the doctor. Joe knew he'd be back to driving 300 miles a weekend and trying to keep up with the younger men in no time. These three weeks were not the time to take a break, but a time to recoup and prepare for the next bout of winter sports with the teenagers. "Why is it that these boys never seem to tire on the hill, but when it comes to schoolwork or chores, they're always exhausted?"

After twenty minutes of stretching and strength building exercises, Joe looked out the window to see the dawn lighting up the fresh snow in the backyard. Surveying the breakfast options, he chose a plain donut. The mechanic enjoyed the serenity of the scene along with his coffee, black with one sugar of course. That's the way his father always told him that 'real men drink their coffee.'

Joe got himself ready, and the 1998 Mitsubishi Montero was waiting for him in the driveway like a faithful friend. Even though he'd had this truck less than a year now, it had already served him well. Joe and his son had taken this trusty vehicle all over New England.

He applied the brakes hard when leaving the driveway to see how much ice had formed on the road overnight. Finding the traction to be better than most days, Joe continued the long downward trip into town. At the top of the last big hill, he saw the brake light on the dash flash for a second. The light went bright red when he hit the brake, and the pedal went to the floor with no resistance. Using his right hand, he pulled the e-brake up slowly so as not to put the truck into a dangerous rear-wheel slide. With his heart now beating faster and his adrenaline pumping, he realized that even with the handbrake fully applied the grade of the hill was too steep for the truck to stop.

Being a mechanic, all the possible scenarios of what could have gone wrong were flashing through his mind. He tried to analyze which parts could have failed while his mind raced for a solution to stop the runaway vehicle. In just a mere matter of seconds, the speed increased from thirty miles per hour to forty.

At the bottom of the hill was a line of cars waiting patiently for the red light to turn. He had to get this vehicle in control, or this could be lethal. He weighed the options. There was a brick building on the left, the intersection straight ahead, and a fenced in lot on the right. The lot was his best chance, as the fence would cause the least amount of damage, but there were snow banks three feet high blocking his path.

In a last, desperate move, he put the shifter into the neutral position, revved the engine to 3000rpm and then slammed the shifter into reverse. The reaction of the truck was immediate, but the driver was ready for the pressure of the seatbelt locking against his chest. As the truck came to a hard stop, only inches away from the waiting cars, the rear tires started smoking in the chill winter air.

In typical New England fashion, everyone else was too into their own world to notice the incident that had just been avoided. Joe took a deep breath as he felt his heart rate start to go back to normal. He took a few seconds to be thankful that he'd had a cup of coffee to wake him up that cold January morning. Now it was time to finish the trip to work. A new item was now added to his agenda: to see the person who'd sold him the brake caliper that blew a seal that day, and almost cost him his life.