Wish I had good news. My ever faithful Crusty is dying.

Lloyd, Crusty and I were headed back to Chicago for a Father’s Day BBQ and he just couldn’t do it. Just past Rockford, Il we hopped on 90 and parked behind a Semi at 70ish mph and life was good. So I thought. I looked back and saw smoke. Lots of it. Dirty mirrors? Nope. The truck ahead? Nope.

I hit the shoulder and yeah.. It was me. Shit! I got the hood open and WOOF! There’s fire! I settled that with a bottle of water. Shit!

The transmission has made a decision. Anything over 45mph and it pukes transmission fluid straight out of the fill tube and on to the exhaust manifold. Dammit!


He still got us home.