The death of a blue bird

Trip Start Oct 28, 2004
Trip End Aug 08, 2005

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Flag of New Zealand  ,
Thursday, January 13, 2005

Megan and Naomi have already become reoccuring characters in our travel log and we understand that you, inturn, have become invested in their well being. They left us earlier in the week, driving off into the sunset in the 1988 Nissan Blue Bird bought from Brad, a rather shady character who lived down the street. This is the email we got from them today:

hi girls... you pleeeeaaaase kick Brad really hard in the balls for us? thanks.
car died. spark plug blew. it's toast.
Sorry Danni, I don't think you are going to be able to drive it, we had to leave it in this town called Ross...which I don't believe is even on the map.
I'll start from the beginging:
As you may know we left Queenstown with high hopes and in good spirits, driving off into the brisk New Zealand air with the warm crimson sun setting in the background, birds chirping, it was lovely....and then all of a sudden, shit hit the fan (no not literally) but the gears decided to just stop...completely. they wouldn't shift into any gear and we were stuck in nutral. At this point we had barely made it out of Queenstown and we were on that HUGE hill that takes you over to Wanaka...(you know where we are talking about right?) we thought we were going to die basically. Somehow Megan managed to shove it into any gear that worked (and this was after a great amount of effort) and we had to drive it in 4th the rest of the way to Wanaka...anytime you tried to shift the gears you were stuck again in nutral..on a hill...with cars behind you. we were pretty much peeing in our pants the entire time. We barely rolled into town when it just went put-put at the first stop sign and we had to get out and push it over to the side of the road. Lucky for us the first guy to pull over and help us just so happen to have a dad that was a car mechanic, and his dad just so happen to be at his shop still. we thought we might need to replace the clutch, wich could cost a shit-load of money, and we were ready to just say fuck-it, but luckily all it needed was a little clutch fluid.
phew! so that was a relief. we thanked the man and his son, gave them 20 bucks and headed off again into the sunset, with birds chirping in the background.
All was good, we made it to Fox Glacier, did our little ice tour, and hit the road again.
Everything was running smothly until we pulled into the town of Ross late one night. We parked the car to stay for the night and then just as Megan went to turn the car back on to move it into a better location it made a load pop noise and sounded like the entire engine just blew up. oh shit. we thought better turn it off real quick and pretend like we didn't hear it and try and start it again in the morning.
sure enough, next morning, we start it again and it sounds like the entire engine broke up into tiny peices and is clanking around underneath the hood. this time we knew it was bad, so we went down the street to the mechanic and asked him to look at it. he said the spark plug blew. he tried to replace it, it blew again, this time for good.
So we left our Nissan Bluebird with 3 laughing mechanics, who thought it was just absolutely hilarious that we even purchased the peice of shit for $150. They gave us $50 for it and we took that and went to catch the next bus.
So maybe it was fixable and those guys at the car shop just thought we were dumb california girls (it wouldn't be the first time), so they took our car and are probably going to fix it right up and turn around and sell it to some other stupid tourist...who knows...either way we were over it...for all we knew it would probably break down again, and this time in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but sheep for as far as you could see in either direction....
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