Here are the salient moments of the trip. I guess I made some mistakes along the way but I'm psyched it's here and don't know that I'd have been able to have gotten it here at all if I'd tried do it differently.

After about 30 hours getting to Joliet, IL by bus and train, the guy I bought it from met me at the station in the Patrol. It looked pretty good - about what I'd expected. There was some surface rust on the undercarriage, it was missing a rear running light and the horn didn't work but otherwise it looked pretty complete. It seemed to run ok, the idle was high and it was loud. The tranny was REALLY loud but he said it always sounded that way and they had replaced a seal and inspected the gears, etc... when he did the clutch. It sounded like a tractor but I'd read references to that so I hoped for the best. Anyway, we went back to his place, put some parts and the old split rims in the back and set the brake before lowering the idle a bit. After a bit his dad offered to let me follow him to the Interstate since he was leaving. It was about 3pm local time. I wasn't quite ready but hurried to followed him out. This was a mistake - I should have familiarized myself with it for a few minutes before leaving, as I had planned. I was pretty well beyond exhausted and I guess I wasn't as rational as I can be.

Anyway, it seemed to be lagging but I wasn't sure because of the inherent funkiness and my unfamiliarity until I put it into 3rd and all this smoke started coming out from under it. I thought "Dammit!, I didn't even make it out of the neighborhood!" I got out and looked and there was smoke and a little drip of some kind of oil. Well, his dad eventually realized I'd LEFT THE HAND BRAKE ON!!! "What an idiot!!! I am such an idiot!!!" is what I recall saying. On the Patrol the handbrake is a band going around the driveshaft instead of a brake at the wheels. Anyway, I drove it some more, looked underneath, it seemed ok and I got on the highway doing 50-55. The tranny was pretty loud and the intake made this whine and there was another noise I'd noticed initially that was either a belt or maybe the fan bearings or something. Anyway, all together when accelerating it sounded very much like a Greyhound bus!

After about an hour I stopped for food and gas and when I came out I noticed what seemed like gear oil on the ground. Dohht! I got under and it looked like the tranny seal was leaking from the upper section. Ok. Could be worse. Could be better. Sh!t! I figured I'd put pressure on the system when I tried to drive it with the brake on. At least the leak was high up. Well, I called the guy to ask what gear oil he put in it so I could replenish it if necessary and ask him what he thought. Well, he said it had leaked from there before and they'd replaced the seal. He felt and I agreed that it was probably mostly coming out when I stopped and it would probably be ok for awhile. I noted the oil type anyway and decided to keep an eye on it and ear out for changes and push on. I really didn't know what else to do. As the trip went on it seemed to be pretty consistent and the tranny is probably still fine.

I would check the engine oil at each fill up and the first one it was still mostly full. Around the second fillup it was pretty low and there was oil all over the engine. It seemed to be coming out of the fill cap and upon inspection the fastener was a cobjob with a piece of hose clamp and a screw that had come loose. I'm lucky that didn't fall in the engine. I did my best but it kept coming loose and letting it leak and I kept buying oil until I finally was able to get it to seal a bit better in the morning after stopping at a motel just west of Erie at 4am for a few hours sleep. Before that, after dark I was in the habit of dropping my lights for a sec to let the longer trucks know they were past. After doing it for maybe the tenth time the left one didn't come back on. On the next stop (where the attendant came out and we talked about the truck for a good bit - that was part of a trend) I determined that it wasn't coming back on but both hibeams worked and they weren't terribly bright so that's how I ran the rest of the way.

Also, late Saturday night the odometer rolled over to 80,000. I took a picture but it's pretty blurry since I was driving and it was too close but note the cool numbers:

I think it was also late Saturday evening that a minivan passed and I noticed at the last minute that a boy in the right rear window was bouncing up and down and giving me the thumbs-up. I laughed and gave him thumbs-up back and then his brother or friend did the same through the back window and I waved before they disappeared in traffic. Earlier, I noticed a pretty old Rover across the median and they waved and I waved back. I imagine they thought I was driving a vintage Rover. When I woke up in the morning there was a slick underneath but not as big as I had feared. After catching about 5 hours sleep at the motel I had breakfast in the diner next door, went over to the truckstop for oil, tightened up the stupid cap and headed out. I don't think I moved the screw and improved the seal until my first stop. The whole time I was driving I was kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop but I was also enjoying the funkiness and all the little details I hadn't noticed before. Things like the way the seats mounted on springs acted as shock absorbers, causing me to be bouncing most of the time but pretty level relative to the road. The way the large steering wheel and the seat's nearness to it put the wheel in my lap - if I wanted to hold a cup in my lap it had to be on the back side of the steering wheel between my knees. The vents, independant wiper motors that would get out of synch, the Warn hub sticker on the ashtray telling you how to use the cool narrow hubs that stick way out (there's also the old Warn instruction pamphlet in the glovebox), the 60's typeface on the speedo, the hand throttle, etc... all kept me entertained.

Anyway, I started noticing the battery was having a harder and harder time when I went to start it back up. The guage said it was charging but I guessed the battery was dying. At some point I pulled over at a reststop and it wouldn't start.A guy gave me a jump, well a few jumps, actually. I left it running with a clothespin under the hand throttle while I went into the building and it kept running until I got in and put my hand on the wheel! In this case having the battery under the driver's seat made access easy, at least. It happened at least once more - we had a pretty long conversation about the truck and I went to start out and I couldn't believe it but it stalled AGAIN. This time we pushed it out into the rest area lane, started pushing and with the help of another guy push-started it that way and I was off for real this time. I had to get a jump each time I stopped after this but there were only a few times remaining, as it turned out. Luckily it push-started easily. Once I push-started it in reverse. Somewhere in here I went through a tollbooth and the middle-aged woman toll-taker asked in a cheery sort of mindless voice: "Is this your Jungle Jeep?". I restrained myself and merely explained that it was a Nissan Patrol and not a Jeep at all. I didn't bother pointing out that the camo is obviously desert camo, or anything else that came to mind at that moment.

At the last place I ended up getting gas and a jump (Exit 31 on 86), it was running a bit rough, with a bit of black smoke. I hoped it was from oil blowing into the intake before or whatever, crossed my fingers and moved out. It was hard to tell if there were any changes in the sound because the background noise of the thing was already so loud and varied but I started wondering if it was making more noise. I was starting up a rise just at the next exit (Angelica, NY) and it really started losing power. I moved over to the shoulder and started slowing, wondering if I should try to back up to the exit and I hear and feel "DUH dah dah daH dAH DAH BANG!!!" Well, that's it. I know it even before I hear the oil pouring steadily out of the engine onto the ground. I thought I might make it for awhile there - I had gotten pretty far. Oh well. I got out and looked underneath and the oil was coming out in a thin stream from the center rear of the oilpan. Uh-huh. I got back in and rolled it backwards to a spot behind the exit sign where it and I probably wouldn't get plowed in to and looked underneath again. The oil was still pouring out. It had left a line like a bloodtrail all the way down the hill, back and forward to where I left it. I can't believe it didn't occur to me to take a picture then or when I went back to it. I must have been in shock! I got a piece of rubber off of the ground, wiped the sludge from where the stream was coming out and saw that there was a nice little hole about the size of a pencil point, which was at the edge of a nice little dent protruding out of the pan. Threw a rod? Threw something, that's for sure. I, on the other hand didn't throw anything, although I was through. I never felt sorry or sick or deeply bummed or anything you might have expected me to feel. I guess I was prepared to some extent for whatever might happen.

Now what do I do? I started trying to come up with as many plans as I could think of. I had a pretty good idea where I was and have friends in Ithaca. I thought maybe I can get someone to come and tow it out there until I can retrieve it. I looked at the exit but it was pretty long and flat - no way to push it off the highway. I left the hood up, grabbed my atlas, sat on the side of the exit and watched the trees for a smoke's length and went back to the truck to gather my stuff. About then a NY Trooper pulls up and says "Looks like you're having trouble - oh that doesn't look good!" the last part after he noticed the couple quarts of oil spreading across the asphalt. He asked me what I wanted to do and told me he had a friend who would tow it without charging me for storage or whatever and gave me 20 minutes to get ready while he dealt with another call. Anyway, he gave me a ride to the truck stop and I gave him my key to be dropped off at the tow place in exchange for info and phone numbers. This guy was a really nice guy, helpful and understanding and he told me how he used to build up full-size trucks for muddin'. He told me get in touch if I need anything and not worry about leaving the truck (usually they tell you it has to be moved right away, etc...). Actually, a lot of people were very friendly and helpful throughout the trip. I'm only guessing that it was about 5:30pm central by the time I got dropped off by the cop.

Once at the truck stop with my day pack and hiking backpack, I went in and tried a friend in Ithaca who wasn't home, called my friend Janie who was covering my daughter for me and left a message, then called Shad. I had called him the day before with an update and thought he might get on the board or otherwise offer ideas. I knew he had sort of offered to help if I had trouble but it was a long way and he has a lot of plates to keep spinning so I didn't ask but did think he might offer to tow me back. As it turns out he did offer but it looked like it might be too complex a process for him to get childcare set up, etc... in order to make it happen. Anyway, after calling him back over the course of a few hours, we finally determined that he would leave around 10pm and be there around 5 or 6 am. After a little trouble I got in touch with the trooper and he said he'd get the key back to me within an hour, so I sat down and had a meal while I waited. I decided to get a motel room 12 miles away and a waitress who'd kind of befriended me gave me a ride to the motel at the end of her shift around 11:30 pm.

It took me awhile to wind down and I think I shut the lights out around 1:30am. I set the alarm for 6am so I could call Shad and see how he was making out. After about five minutes the alarm woke me at 6 and I called and got his voicemail but he called back saying he was in the area. After a little confusion, he made it there and we both crashed out for another few hours. Around 10:30 I started calling around and found that the U-Haul place in Elmira was open (remember - it was Labor Day) and they had a car dolly. Excellent, all we had to do was drive down in the Pathy, pick it up and bring it back to the Patrol and we'd be on our way. The guy wanted to know what the tow vehicle was. "'95 Nissan Pathfinder." "Ok, what's the vehicle being towed?" Deep breath. "1969 Nissan Patrol." "Hmnn, what's that?" "It's like an FJ40. It's small - like a jeep CJ. Hardly weighs anything - like 2800 pounds. Really." Ok, the guy needs to consult the books. UHaul is the only place that rents a dolly without renting a truck. We take safety very seriously. Hang on a sec..... *Sigh* ... *Shoulda said it was an FJ40*.... *Sigh*... "Yeah, I'm still here. They don't list the Patrol?" I'm not surprised, it's rare. My registration says 1969 Nissan, so does the insurance. There's not a slot in the computers so it doesn't exist. "Listen, trust me - the Pathfinder is set up for towing and the Patrol is well within its capacity." He won't trust me, can't trust me, he needs to see the vehicle. It's 100 miles to Elmira and we can't flat-tow on the highway. 100 miles on side roads with a tow strap. Ok, we'll be there.

We set out towards the highway, looking around for used trailers, open rental places, pots o' gold, anything - a cup of coffee. We saw a Tractor Supply store and stopped in thinking they might have a tow bar. They didn't but they had all kinds of recovery equipment at great prices. Hi-Lifts and all the parts and accessories, hefty come-alongs, mounting brackets of every sort, etc..., etc... Hitches, shackles, trailer axles, hi-lift clones on sale for under $30, Warn winches cheaper than from the Warn site plus all the accessories, on and on. We were both amazed at the variety and prices and no, I am not being paid to say this. I bought a tow-light setup and a refillable lighter shaped like a pair of pliers and we tore ourselves away from that shining treasure-trove in the wilderness. We had quite a row to hoe and it was time to accept the fact that we were going to use a tow strap to get it to Elmira.

The Patrol was still where I left it and it was still intact. Well, that was one good thing. We hooked up the lights and Shad's recovery strap doubled up and Shad rigged up a nifty shock-corded line to keep the light cord off the ground and we went down the exit ramp and headed north. We had one FRS radio and one CB radio so we resorted to thumbs up when I was ready and since my battery was dead, I guess I'd have had to wave frantically if I wanted him to stop. We probably had about 6 feet between us but from my perspective it looked like I was about to slam into the rear of the Pathy at any moment. It was pretty scary but I figured I'd get used to it and didn't have a choice. Believe me, if you've ever seen Shad drive, you would not want to be tethered to his truck in a vehicle with sketchy brakes. ;^)

After driving on rural-residential roads for about 20-30 white-knuckled minutes we were about to cross a busy intersection after waiting at a light and he went forward while I just sat there. Wave frantically! Wave frantically! He pulled over and we pushed it out of traffic and behind his truck. Of course the strap had abraded and finally snapped where we had wrapped it around the Patrol's bumper. I thought that might happen. What can I say, we were both loopy from exhaustion! Luckily, we simply tied a knot in the strap and towed it 100 yards to a Kmart parking lot where we procured another strap which we hooked up a little more intelligently this time. I rolled a smoke while I had a hand free. Ok, dude, try to pay more attention, you're scaring the hell out of me! Anyway, thumbs up, let's go!

Not long after that the road became more rural and Shad, I mean we, started speeding up. I looked at the speedometer and we were doing over 60. Yikes! At least we're making time. This is what I'm seeing, I tried to keep myself centered behind him to minimize stress on the strap. Mainly, I was just trying to keep my eye glued on the white line on his plate. When it disappeared I'd jam on the brake. Many times during the trip to Elmira I was standing on the brakes, cursing and praying.

Somewhere in here Shad swerved and hit dirt, I saw him lean over to the passenger side and then lift the phone to his face and swerve some more. I'm yelling "Hang up and drive!!!" but whenever he looked back, what could I do but grin madly and give the thumbs-up? He told me later that his wife called him on the phone but it had fallen on the floor. Anyway, here's sort of what it looked like when I'd get out of line (the timestamp on these photos read 4:18pm) :

After awhile we came to a place where we didn't have much choice but to take the highway for about 20 miles until we got to Elmira. We stopped at a gas station and checked on the strap - it was fine except for a bit of frayed edge where it must have dragged off and on. We got on the highway and before I know it we're really cruising. I hazard a glance away from Shad's bumper and see that my speedo reads, Oh God! - 73 miles per hour!!! I doubt this thing has ever gone that fast before! I hang on and hope for the best and give the thumbs-up whenever he'd look back. Despite my fears, we managed to get there in one piece. Actually, I should say two pieces because one big fear was that he'd have to slam on the brakes and we'd end up as one tangled mess. In Elmira we pulled over in a hotel parking lot to find out exactly where we needed to go.

Shad went into the lobby for directions while I called UHaul for directions, also. We ended up with two routes and Shad chose the hotel person's. Oops, well after driving in circles around greater Elmira we found the place and they were still open. It took some fancy talking to get the guy to let me rent the dolly but he relented eventually and we were in business. I was really relieved. I knew without a doubt that I would never have been able to make the trip if we had had to do it with the towstrap. Overall, it was the most terrifying thrill-ride I have ever been on (and I love thrill rides).

The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. Shad drove until around Albany and I took over. The Pathy drove quite well pulling the Patrol, I was impressed. I was also impressed at how much it felt like a car compared to my Hardbody and especially compared to the Patrol! The only problem was early in the am on Route 9 in VT, east of Bennington. We went over a pass and the fog brought visibility down to like 5 feet. On top of that, they were doing construction and the road was dirt ruts worse than some of the class 4 roads I've been on and I was really exhausted. Anyway, we made it and pulled into my driveway around 2am (I'm guessing here). We were both so tired that when we unloaded the Patrol from the dolly, we forgot to let the ramps down and I just rolled off of it - Wham! I didn't even notice until Shad pointed it out and we both collapsed into exhausted hysterics. Shad felt he needed to press on home and I went inside, happy and grateful to be back in one piece and with the Patrol.

I guess the final part of this chapter in the Patrol story is this: When my 9 year old daughter, Arianna heard about the blown engine, she was pretty bummed. Partly for me but also because she was looking forward to going "Patrolling". I thought that was a great term. Anyway, I waited until Thursday when she was there to tow it the 30 feet to where I wanted to park it, even though it was after dark when we got home. I thought she'd enjoy steering the Patrol while I towed it with the HB. She was thrilled and did a great job:

©2002-2005 Greg Wolfe