[DIYPatriot]

I had a '65 Chevy Corvair Corsa - swear I'm not dating myself. I just appreciate old American cars. I joined a local Corvair Club and spent many Saturday afternoons learning from the wise men that were gracious and patient enough to take a 16 yr old kid into their fold. Today, I'm driving a '72 Chevy C-10 a couple times a week, too - belonged to my grand father.

Anyway, I was 16 and on a date with a retired Gunny Sgt's daughter and he said to have her home by 9 PM - he really meant 8:59. On our way back to her house I pressed the clutch to shift from 3rd to 4th, will never forget that, and felt a pop and then the pedal fall all the way to floor board. I also felt my heart sink. I was screwed. I didn't have a cell phone. I didn't have hardly a soul around me other than Kristin, reminding me how much her daddy was gonna kill us both if she were late. It was getting close to 9 PM.

To this day, I firmly believe he would've killed me first and spared her life and used me as the example. As experience would have it, I paid attention on a transmission rebuild/install and remembered where the cable ran underneath the floor. I had my tool box in the trunk (front of the car) and began ripping up carpet with an old Case XX.

The cable was shot. Completely frayed. However, I had just enough slack that I could rig it up around my Phillips head screwdriver. Taking what little slack remained, I wrapped the cable around the base plate of my shifter and limped us back home. I grinded a few gears, but as they say - If you can't find 'em, grind 'em.

For those interested, I got her home a few minutes late. He was waiting outside and after admiring my determination to get his daughter home, I was granted an execution stay. Thank God. I'm alive to tell the story.