Shoot scoot and shut up?
Story Market Day
- Thread starter ComCamGuy
- Start date
Shoot scoot and shut up?
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Road noise, exhaustion, closed up vehicle, and so on and so forth. Sudden noise woke them up, but they weren’t awake fast enough to identify
larry_minn
Contributing Member
+20 years ago that was a option. I was almost involved in a shooting. I did not fire, pulled a fade. Today you will be caught on a couple cameras
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Even out of urban areas. There've been cameras at road-side or tourist rest areas for many years.
feralferret
Veteran Member
CCG, thank you!
But we are talking about this particular situation in this story. I’m not sure how many resources “they” will have to look into cameras, and our family group needs to survive the trip north for any potential prosecution to happen even if they have cameras.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Up North
Barbara was worn out. Between the ride itself, the added stress trying to evade unknown hunters, and trying to teach these two blundering Mooses how to move without setting off giant neon signs screaming ‘I’m HERE!’, all she wanted to do was take a quick shower and crawl into bed. The bad part was she knew she couldn’t. Not yet. She had to debrief the guys, lay the groundwork for the next few days until they get a better handle on what the hell was going on, send Stephen a warning message with what happened so he didn’t come blundering into something, make sure the blackout shutters were down in place, do a light leak check once things got dark, and so on and so on, and so on.
Later
“Does any of this make sense?” Benjiman asked Randolph as they stood in the kitchen.
“Which part? Somebody gunning down Barbara’s car, our twenty-mile forced loop through the middle of nowhere to get back here, Barbara’s one-hundred-eighty degree shift in attitude and personality, the whole ‘hide like Anne Frank’s understudy’, or is there some other part I’m missing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the one that worries me the most is Barbara. She definitely isn’t acting like herself. Normally she is the one being more the encouraging, assistive type more than the ‘take charge’ one. This seemed like a whole different person, someone I didn’t recognize.”
Randy didn’t seem convinced. “True, but you have to admit, her reasoning all made sense when you think about it, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but that was after we had hours to think it all through. She came up with all this ‘hide in thick brush’, ‘danger crossings walk at a diagonal facing away from the direction of travel’, ‘stay out of the water, getting wet makes it easier for tracking dogs to follow’ and that whole seventeen looping circles in the clearing with darting into and out of the trees in twelve places, even though she explained it twice, it still makes no sense to me other than it was a good time for all of us to pee.”
“OK…?” Randy still didn’t get his point.
“She had all that already in her head and just kept whipping it out, one after another, on the fly. Hell, she seemed like she was picking and choosing from a hundred different options, and we just did the most convenient ones.”
“It’s probably reading all those tracking books Stephen had been studying for finding lost people, and she is just back-engineering from there.” Randy didn’t sound very convinced by his own explanation either.
“It’s not that, and you know it!” Benji pointed at him with his mug of tea.
“OK, fine! That’s not it. So, smartass, what is it?” Randy shot back, avoiding the slopped tea from Benji’s mug.
“I don’t know either, but I’m sure Stephen will sort it all out when he gets here.”
“I hope so. Shit is getting weird.”
Barbara was worn out. Between the ride itself, the added stress trying to evade unknown hunters, and trying to teach these two blundering Mooses how to move without setting off giant neon signs screaming ‘I’m HERE!’, all she wanted to do was take a quick shower and crawl into bed. The bad part was she knew she couldn’t. Not yet. She had to debrief the guys, lay the groundwork for the next few days until they get a better handle on what the hell was going on, send Stephen a warning message with what happened so he didn’t come blundering into something, make sure the blackout shutters were down in place, do a light leak check once things got dark, and so on and so on, and so on.
Later
“Does any of this make sense?” Benjiman asked Randolph as they stood in the kitchen.
“Which part? Somebody gunning down Barbara’s car, our twenty-mile forced loop through the middle of nowhere to get back here, Barbara’s one-hundred-eighty degree shift in attitude and personality, the whole ‘hide like Anne Frank’s understudy’, or is there some other part I’m missing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the one that worries me the most is Barbara. She definitely isn’t acting like herself. Normally she is the one being more the encouraging, assistive type more than the ‘take charge’ one. This seemed like a whole different person, someone I didn’t recognize.”
Randy didn’t seem convinced. “True, but you have to admit, her reasoning all made sense when you think about it, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but that was after we had hours to think it all through. She came up with all this ‘hide in thick brush’, ‘danger crossings walk at a diagonal facing away from the direction of travel’, ‘stay out of the water, getting wet makes it easier for tracking dogs to follow’ and that whole seventeen looping circles in the clearing with darting into and out of the trees in twelve places, even though she explained it twice, it still makes no sense to me other than it was a good time for all of us to pee.”
“OK…?” Randy still didn’t get his point.
“She had all that already in her head and just kept whipping it out, one after another, on the fly. Hell, she seemed like she was picking and choosing from a hundred different options, and we just did the most convenient ones.”
“It’s probably reading all those tracking books Stephen had been studying for finding lost people, and she is just back-engineering from there.” Randy didn’t sound very convinced by his own explanation either.
“It’s not that, and you know it!” Benji pointed at him with his mug of tea.
“OK, fine! That’s not it. So, smartass, what is it?” Randy shot back, avoiding the slopped tea from Benji’s mug.
“I don’t know either, but I’m sure Stephen will sort it all out when he gets here.”
“I hope so. Shit is getting weird.”
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223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
Dumb Blonde
Contributing Member
Sounds like those two are "red shirts"
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Down South, On the Road North
No one was talking about what had happened at the picnic pull out. Not while they were driving, not when they were plotting their next routes on the map as they stood looking at the maps spread out on the hood of the truck at an exit pull off, not at all.
They had made it just past Bakersfield and from what they saw on the outskirts, not going through there was the right call. Now they were on divided highway with less traffic and a safer feel than the sprawling chaos of the last couple days. Everyone seemed to be in agreeance that this was the way they wanted the rest of the drive north to be.
The scenery was made up of older ramshackle towns, smaller local gas stations instead of the monster-sized truck stops so popular on the freeways now. No ‘800+ pumps and jerky from 28 different animals’ signs out here. Here it was smaller stations with four to six pumps, and the older-style local truck stops, the kind with a tire or repair shop across the parking lot, or a small bungalow motel with attached diner.
This landscape was more to Stephen’s liking. He felt safer out in places like this. This was the way it was in the ‘boonies’ where a lot of the National Parks were until you got real close to them and the tourist sprawl took over. This was the sort of place he preferred. This was the sort of place you didn’t have to shoot two guys in the face because of what they said they were going to do.
It wasn’t the first time he drew a gun on someone. It wasn’t even the first time he had to pull the trigger at someone, but it was the first time he did it by himself, out of uniform, not in the line of duty. The only other time he shot someone, both him and his partner had shot the guy, and they never told him if it was his or his partner who fired the actual fatal rounds versus the other holes poked in his torso.
Then, he had his partner with him at the time, reassuring him it was the right and only thing to do, and then the investigation team told both of them the same thing. This time he had none of that. This time he shot two people in the face, scooped up their weapons and ran.
He knew sooner or later he would have to talk about it with someone, but right now he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure about talking to Gabriel or Samantha about it, at least not yet. No reason to burden them with this right now. Maybe once they got to the cabin.
He wished Barbara was here to talk this through with. Hell, he wished Barbara was here last night. She might have spotted it sooner and they could have avoided the whole thing.
He spotted a sign. A little blip in the road with a motel and gas station ahead. If either were open, that might be a good spot for food, fuel, a decent couple hours of real sleep and a better planning session with the map where it wasn’t in danger of being blown out of their hands.
No one was talking about what had happened at the picnic pull out. Not while they were driving, not when they were plotting their next routes on the map as they stood looking at the maps spread out on the hood of the truck at an exit pull off, not at all.
They had made it just past Bakersfield and from what they saw on the outskirts, not going through there was the right call. Now they were on divided highway with less traffic and a safer feel than the sprawling chaos of the last couple days. Everyone seemed to be in agreeance that this was the way they wanted the rest of the drive north to be.
The scenery was made up of older ramshackle towns, smaller local gas stations instead of the monster-sized truck stops so popular on the freeways now. No ‘800+ pumps and jerky from 28 different animals’ signs out here. Here it was smaller stations with four to six pumps, and the older-style local truck stops, the kind with a tire or repair shop across the parking lot, or a small bungalow motel with attached diner.
This landscape was more to Stephen’s liking. He felt safer out in places like this. This was the way it was in the ‘boonies’ where a lot of the National Parks were until you got real close to them and the tourist sprawl took over. This was the sort of place he preferred. This was the sort of place you didn’t have to shoot two guys in the face because of what they said they were going to do.
It wasn’t the first time he drew a gun on someone. It wasn’t even the first time he had to pull the trigger at someone, but it was the first time he did it by himself, out of uniform, not in the line of duty. The only other time he shot someone, both him and his partner had shot the guy, and they never told him if it was his or his partner who fired the actual fatal rounds versus the other holes poked in his torso.
Then, he had his partner with him at the time, reassuring him it was the right and only thing to do, and then the investigation team told both of them the same thing. This time he had none of that. This time he shot two people in the face, scooped up their weapons and ran.
He knew sooner or later he would have to talk about it with someone, but right now he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure about talking to Gabriel or Samantha about it, at least not yet. No reason to burden them with this right now. Maybe once they got to the cabin.
He wished Barbara was here to talk this through with. Hell, he wished Barbara was here last night. She might have spotted it sooner and they could have avoided the whole thing.
He spotted a sign. A little blip in the road with a motel and gas station ahead. If either were open, that might be a good spot for food, fuel, a decent couple hours of real sleep and a better planning session with the map where it wasn’t in danger of being blown out of their hands.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
At the Hotel
They were pulling up outside the office of the mall motel when the dashboard of the truck lit up like a Christmas tree at a rave. Lights were flashing all over, the gauges flickered, the needles darted all over their gauges, and the motor started making horrible noises along with shuddering and racing. Thankfully or unfortunately, all that stopped, along with the engine.
Stephen turned the key off and back on. Lots of warning lights and no starter sounds from under the hood. Just a dead click.
“Sam, why don’t you go see if they have two rooms for the night while Gabe and I try to figure out what just happened.”
Sam didn’t even hesitate or question the plan. She just wanted to get a hot bath and a bed.
Stephen and Gabe had the hood up and were both looking at the engine. Not a bad move except neither of them really knew what they were looking at or for. There were no big neon signs announcing ‘This is the Problem!’ under here.
It didn’t take long before Stephen admitted defeat.
“OK, Gabe. You wait here for Sam. I’m going across the street to the stop and rob to see if the mechanic’s shop or tire shop thing next to them is still in business.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“We can try AAA, but I doubt we could get anyone on the phone, much less get any help. It’s at least forty or fifty miles back to Bakersfield and it didn’t look like someplace we wanted to backtrack for. We might get help out of Fresno but…” He looked at Gabe’s expression and hated the worried look he saw. He was afraid he was wearing the same in his face.
“Look, it’s probably something simple. If the mechanic’s shop is still up and running, they will be able to fix it, then we get on our way again.”
“So, I guess we will just end up waiting here while it gets fixed?”
Gabe was grasping for reassurance Stephen knew. He had to try and give it to him. He and his sister had already been through so much. Stephen was returning to his normal, they had all their normal ripped away, then the quake threw any shed left right into the trash.
“Probably a couple days, but we need to think about how much of our stuff we might have to move into the motel room while they are working on the truck.”
“So, we unload the truck? That’s a lot of shit!”
“That’s one of the reasons why I told Sam to get two rooms. She gets one room and most of whatever we have to unload.”
“Who knows? Maybe we will get lucky, and the mechanic can fix it quick and we won’t have to unload anything.”
Stephen loved the hope on Gabe’s face. He hoped it worked out like that, but Stephen was getting a bad feeling in his gut this wouldn’t be a ten minute fix.
“I don’t know. First step is finding the mechanic.”
They were pulling up outside the office of the mall motel when the dashboard of the truck lit up like a Christmas tree at a rave. Lights were flashing all over, the gauges flickered, the needles darted all over their gauges, and the motor started making horrible noises along with shuddering and racing. Thankfully or unfortunately, all that stopped, along with the engine.
Stephen turned the key off and back on. Lots of warning lights and no starter sounds from under the hood. Just a dead click.
“Sam, why don’t you go see if they have two rooms for the night while Gabe and I try to figure out what just happened.”
Sam didn’t even hesitate or question the plan. She just wanted to get a hot bath and a bed.
Stephen and Gabe had the hood up and were both looking at the engine. Not a bad move except neither of them really knew what they were looking at or for. There were no big neon signs announcing ‘This is the Problem!’ under here.
It didn’t take long before Stephen admitted defeat.
“OK, Gabe. You wait here for Sam. I’m going across the street to the stop and rob to see if the mechanic’s shop or tire shop thing next to them is still in business.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“We can try AAA, but I doubt we could get anyone on the phone, much less get any help. It’s at least forty or fifty miles back to Bakersfield and it didn’t look like someplace we wanted to backtrack for. We might get help out of Fresno but…” He looked at Gabe’s expression and hated the worried look he saw. He was afraid he was wearing the same in his face.
“Look, it’s probably something simple. If the mechanic’s shop is still up and running, they will be able to fix it, then we get on our way again.”
“So, I guess we will just end up waiting here while it gets fixed?”
Gabe was grasping for reassurance Stephen knew. He had to try and give it to him. He and his sister had already been through so much. Stephen was returning to his normal, they had all their normal ripped away, then the quake threw any shed left right into the trash.
“Probably a couple days, but we need to think about how much of our stuff we might have to move into the motel room while they are working on the truck.”
“So, we unload the truck? That’s a lot of shit!”
“That’s one of the reasons why I told Sam to get two rooms. She gets one room and most of whatever we have to unload.”
“Who knows? Maybe we will get lucky, and the mechanic can fix it quick and we won’t have to unload anything.”
Stephen loved the hope on Gabe’s face. He hoped it worked out like that, but Stephen was getting a bad feeling in his gut this wouldn’t be a ten minute fix.
“I don’t know. First step is finding the mechanic.”
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Across the Street
Stephen was looking around, trying to get clues as much as he could when he got close to the small Qiki-Mart and the mechanics shop next to it. All the signs were in decent repair and advertising tires and mechanical work for cars and trucks. There were several parked in some sort of holding area next to the work bays, but the roll-up doors were down and a sign on the glass door said ‘Closed’.
He walked over to the Qiki-Mart and went inside. It was probably an old 7-11 or Circle-K but no longer part of the franchise. A bunch of snacks, beverage coolers along one wall, some hot food and a wall of lottery tickets and tobacco products behind the counter, along with a middle-aged man.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I hope so. I was looking for the mechanic next door. My truck just died and I’m stuck. My brother and sister and I, we are trying to get back to my home up north.”
“That sucks! I guess you picked the wrong time to visit Disneyland.”
Stephen tried to not let the jab hurt, but could only give a hint of a sad smile as he replied.
“No Disney on this trip. Family issue. A funeral.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, mister. I was out of line. You have my sympathies.”
“It’s OK sir. You didn’t know.”
“So how can I help?”
“I was wondering about the mechanic…” Stephen pointed in the direction of his shop.
“Oh, yeah. Bill should be back in tomorrow. He had to run down to get his daughter out of the Cal-State dorms in Bakersfield.”
“Is Bakersfield as much as a mess as it looked like when we drove by?”
“Probably much worse, but It depends on what you are comparing it to. Where are you coming from down south?”
“Norco Riverside area.”
“Shit! Probably not as bad as what you’ve already seen.”
Stephen couldn’t help but glance down at his hands before he answered him.
“I don’t know. Things seem jacked up all over right now.”
‘So, what’s wrong with the truck?”
Stephen went through the symptomology, what it did, what they checked, and what it wasn’t doing. All the while, the mad listened intently, just nodding as Stephen described everything.
“Well, mister, it doesn’t sound good, but you might get lucky. Tell you what. I can take a look and see if it’s something simple, like a fuse to a computer box or something.”
Before Stephen could object to the man stepping away from the store to help him, the man yelled towards the back room.
“Elsa! Come out here and watch the counter for a few. I’m going across the street for a minute.”
“Alright, hang on.” Came a woman’s voice from the back room. Moments later a woman came out of the room and walked towards the counter. She was mid-twenties, medium height, medium build, pretty but not stunning. She reminded Stephen a lot of Barbara, if Barbara dyed her hair blonde.
“So, what are you running off to do now?” she asked with a smirk.
“I’m going across to see what I can do to help this young man with his truck. He’s trying to get back north from a funeral.”
“Too bad Bill isn’t here today.”
“He’ll be back tomorrow. I was just going to see if it’s something simple.”
“Like you know what you would be looking at.”
“Hey! I know some. It might be a stuck dingle arm, or a flow problem with the turbo-encephilator.” He grinned.
The woman turned to Stephen.
“Don’t worry. He won’t break it. He might even find the hood latch. Bill will be back tomorrow though. If anyone can fix it, he’ll be able to.”
By now, the man was out from behind the counter and standing next to him.
“OK, let’s go see this truck of yours. Wait. Where are my manners?” he stuck out his hand. “I’m Dave, and the comedian back there is Elsa, my niece.”
“I’m Stephen,” he shook the proffered hand. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t fixed anything.”
Stephen was looking around, trying to get clues as much as he could when he got close to the small Qiki-Mart and the mechanics shop next to it. All the signs were in decent repair and advertising tires and mechanical work for cars and trucks. There were several parked in some sort of holding area next to the work bays, but the roll-up doors were down and a sign on the glass door said ‘Closed’.
He walked over to the Qiki-Mart and went inside. It was probably an old 7-11 or Circle-K but no longer part of the franchise. A bunch of snacks, beverage coolers along one wall, some hot food and a wall of lottery tickets and tobacco products behind the counter, along with a middle-aged man.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I hope so. I was looking for the mechanic next door. My truck just died and I’m stuck. My brother and sister and I, we are trying to get back to my home up north.”
“That sucks! I guess you picked the wrong time to visit Disneyland.”
Stephen tried to not let the jab hurt, but could only give a hint of a sad smile as he replied.
“No Disney on this trip. Family issue. A funeral.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, mister. I was out of line. You have my sympathies.”
“It’s OK sir. You didn’t know.”
“So how can I help?”
“I was wondering about the mechanic…” Stephen pointed in the direction of his shop.
“Oh, yeah. Bill should be back in tomorrow. He had to run down to get his daughter out of the Cal-State dorms in Bakersfield.”
“Is Bakersfield as much as a mess as it looked like when we drove by?”
“Probably much worse, but It depends on what you are comparing it to. Where are you coming from down south?”
“Norco Riverside area.”
“Shit! Probably not as bad as what you’ve already seen.”
Stephen couldn’t help but glance down at his hands before he answered him.
“I don’t know. Things seem jacked up all over right now.”
‘So, what’s wrong with the truck?”
Stephen went through the symptomology, what it did, what they checked, and what it wasn’t doing. All the while, the mad listened intently, just nodding as Stephen described everything.
“Well, mister, it doesn’t sound good, but you might get lucky. Tell you what. I can take a look and see if it’s something simple, like a fuse to a computer box or something.”
Before Stephen could object to the man stepping away from the store to help him, the man yelled towards the back room.
“Elsa! Come out here and watch the counter for a few. I’m going across the street for a minute.”
“Alright, hang on.” Came a woman’s voice from the back room. Moments later a woman came out of the room and walked towards the counter. She was mid-twenties, medium height, medium build, pretty but not stunning. She reminded Stephen a lot of Barbara, if Barbara dyed her hair blonde.
“So, what are you running off to do now?” she asked with a smirk.
“I’m going across to see what I can do to help this young man with his truck. He’s trying to get back north from a funeral.”
“Too bad Bill isn’t here today.”
“He’ll be back tomorrow. I was just going to see if it’s something simple.”
“Like you know what you would be looking at.”
“Hey! I know some. It might be a stuck dingle arm, or a flow problem with the turbo-encephilator.” He grinned.
The woman turned to Stephen.
“Don’t worry. He won’t break it. He might even find the hood latch. Bill will be back tomorrow though. If anyone can fix it, he’ll be able to.”
By now, the man was out from behind the counter and standing next to him.
“OK, let’s go see this truck of yours. Wait. Where are my manners?” he stuck out his hand. “I’m Dave, and the comedian back there is Elsa, my niece.”
“I’m Stephen,” he shook the proffered hand. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t fixed anything.”
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Outside the Motel
Stephen and Dave walked up to where Sam and Gene were standing beside the truck.
“We got rooms?” Stephen asked. In answer Sam held up two keys.
“Are they next to each other?”
“Yup.”
“Guys, this is Dave. He’s coming to see if he can lend a hand.” He turned to Dave. “Dave, this is Samantha and Gabriel.”
“Good to meet the both of you. I understand you are having a bit of trouble.”
“That’s an understatement.” Samantha said.
They followed Dave to the front of the truck where the hood was still up. The three siblings stood and watched as Dave reached, touched, wiggled, opened, removed caps, checked dipsticks, and in general poked and prodded over the whole thing. Eventually, he stopped and turned to his audience.
“Well? Stephen asked, afraid of what Dave was about to tell him. There weren’t any encouraging ‘ah ha!’ or ‘that’s what it is’ moments while Dave was inspecting things.
“Bill will be back tomorrow morning to give a more official sort of a look see, but it doesn’t look good.”
“How ‘doesn’t look good’ are we talking? Lots of parts? Lots of labor? What are you thinking?” Stephen asked.
Dave turned and reached into the engine bay and pulled out the oil dipstick. Taking a paper towel he had been using, he put it under the dipstick.
“You see the oil here?”
“Yeah?”
“Doesn’t look right, does it?”
Stephen tried to see what he was talking about. Dave was right. It didn’t look right, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
“No, sir. What’s wrong with it?”
“If it had been a long time since you changed it, or you ran it hard with too many miles, it’d be dark and smell burnt. If it was freshly changed, it would be about the color of lager and the consistency of warm honey. This is neither. This looks like chocolate milk. The only thing I know that causes that to happen is water or antifreeze in the oil. Since I don’t think you mixed up the filler caps, it’s mixing on its own somewhere in the engine. That’s why it quit. Bill will be back tomorrow and he might know something I don’t that makes this happen, but you’re not driving this truck anywhere until it gets fixed.”
Stephen and Dave walked up to where Sam and Gene were standing beside the truck.
“We got rooms?” Stephen asked. In answer Sam held up two keys.
“Are they next to each other?”
“Yup.”
“Guys, this is Dave. He’s coming to see if he can lend a hand.” He turned to Dave. “Dave, this is Samantha and Gabriel.”
“Good to meet the both of you. I understand you are having a bit of trouble.”
“That’s an understatement.” Samantha said.
They followed Dave to the front of the truck where the hood was still up. The three siblings stood and watched as Dave reached, touched, wiggled, opened, removed caps, checked dipsticks, and in general poked and prodded over the whole thing. Eventually, he stopped and turned to his audience.
“Well? Stephen asked, afraid of what Dave was about to tell him. There weren’t any encouraging ‘ah ha!’ or ‘that’s what it is’ moments while Dave was inspecting things.
“Bill will be back tomorrow morning to give a more official sort of a look see, but it doesn’t look good.”
“How ‘doesn’t look good’ are we talking? Lots of parts? Lots of labor? What are you thinking?” Stephen asked.
Dave turned and reached into the engine bay and pulled out the oil dipstick. Taking a paper towel he had been using, he put it under the dipstick.
“You see the oil here?”
“Yeah?”
“Doesn’t look right, does it?”
Stephen tried to see what he was talking about. Dave was right. It didn’t look right, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
“No, sir. What’s wrong with it?”
“If it had been a long time since you changed it, or you ran it hard with too many miles, it’d be dark and smell burnt. If it was freshly changed, it would be about the color of lager and the consistency of warm honey. This is neither. This looks like chocolate milk. The only thing I know that causes that to happen is water or antifreeze in the oil. Since I don’t think you mixed up the filler caps, it’s mixing on its own somewhere in the engine. That’s why it quit. Bill will be back tomorrow and he might know something I don’t that makes this happen, but you’re not driving this truck anywhere until it gets fixed.”
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Daily checks of all fluids, tire pressures et al help avoid such conversations. OK I haven't done those religiously like I did when in uniform but every fill up, it's part of the routine.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Uh oh! Thanks, CCG!