This is the worst gig story ever.
I’ve told a lot of gig stories on this blog. Some of them are humorous, some are annoying or cringe-worthy, but none even come close to this one. This is the sort of surreal tale that you might see in the movies, but it actually happened to me.
Ever since high school, I had driven old hand-me-down cars from my parents. Typically, these were decent cars with a lot of mileage on them (my dad worked 65 miles out of town at the time), and I drove them until they started to fall apart. At that point they were passed along to my little brother (who would have wrecked them anyway), and I got the next one in line.
This pattern continued through college and beyond into the first few years of my freelance career. As I got on more solid financial footing in my career I knew it would soon be time for a new car of my own. The ever increasing odometer on my hand-me-down Subaru (200,000 miles, 210,000, 220,000…..) made me see the writing on the wall, and I knew I would be paying a visit to a dealership soon.
The big question for me was what kind of car to get. I really liked Subarus, but a new Outback or Forester was well out of my freelance bassist budget. My fiancée had just bought a zippy little Saturn wagon, and I had borrowed it several times while my Subaru was in the shop. It seemed like a reasonably priced and solid bassmobile. When my trusty Subaru finally fell apart at 250,000 miles I drove it (with no power steering and questionable brakes) to the nearest Saturn dealership. I bought the same exact car that my fiancée had.
That was, without a doubt, the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.
February 11, 2004
10:20 p.m.
I had just hit 40,000 miles in my one year old new silver Saturn wagon. I loved this zippy little wagon. It was reliable, easy on the gas, and plenty roomy. I had just played a rehearsal with the Northwest Indiana Symphony in a little town called Merillville, about 20 miles south of Gary. Merillville is a destination city for Northwest Indiana, and it is a marked contrast to the heavy industry of the Garry/Hammond area (my friends in college used to call that area Hell, U.S.A.), and the blight of the south side of Chicago. It was about 65 miles away from my place in Evanston.
This February night was cold. Really cold. A bubble of Arctic air had engulfed Chicagoland that week, and the air temperature was hovering in the single digits, with the wind chill dropping well below zero.
Shivering, I loaded my bass up into my Saturn, started it up, and headed for the tollway, eager to get back to Evanston and my nice, warm home.
As I pulled onto the tollway, I noticed that the ‘check engine’ light had just appeared on my dashboard. I scowled. This was the first time that any light had come on my dash, and I was annoyed that the perfect streak I had been having thus far with my Saturn was ending.
It sure was ending. I had no idea how badly it was ending.
In hindsight, I wonder why I didn’t just immediately pull my car off the road when that ‘check engine’ light came on. That would certainly have made for a much better evening, but ask yourself what you would have done? Does a check engine light mean “imminent death”? Don’t people drive all the time with ‘check engine’ lights on?
Well, they shouldn’t in Saturns—I can tell you that for sure.
I continued driving down the highway, and I noticed that my car was feeling a little unresponsive. It would do what I wanted it to do, but just a… little… slower…. than…. usual. Did it have to do with the ‘check engine’ light problem? The cold? The wind?
All of a sudden there was a huge *BANG* from under the car and a big roaring engine sound, like a motorcycle driving with no muffler.
My scowl turned to a look of confusion and worry. My muffler had just blown a hole in it in the industrial wasteland between Gary and East Chicago on the coldest night of the winter.
Or so I thought. If only it had been that.
I was now driving home with a ‘check engine’ light on and a blown muffler. Not the way I had been planning the night to go, certainly, but not life-threatening by any means.
Hindsight again makes me wonder what would have happened if I had stopped at that point. What exactly had happened at that point? What was that bang? Authorities later could never tell me for certain, because all the evidence would be incinerated in the coming minutes.
At this point my focus was just on getting to the Saturn dealership located a few miles from my place in Evanston. I was on the south side of Chicago when the bang occurred, and all I had to do was to get another fifteen or twenty miles north. Again, this may have seemed foolish to the future observer, but think about the mental process I was going through at that moment. Pull over at 95th street in Chicago at 11:00 p.m. when it is well below freezing and call a tow truck to take me twenty miles north? Dump my car in a south side lot to get repaired in the morning? My timid Evanstonian self wasn’t too into that idea. After all, how bad could a blown muffler be? People passed me with blown mufflers all the time on the highway. It must not be that dangerous to keep driving, right?
So I kept driving. As I approached the south end of downtown I decided to take the express lanes from the Dan-Ryan Expressway to the Kennedy Expressway.
This spur between the expressways has two lanes and no shoulder.
As I made my move onto the express lanes I started smelling smoke. I looked and saw dirty grey-black smoke coming out of the vents in my car. Alarmed, I looked at the engine temperature. It was completely normal. What was going on?
My car was now up on the elevated express lane spur to the Kennedy Expressway. A frigid Chinatown was below me.
I started to feel some heat behind me. I turned around.
My back seat was on fire!
Let me say that again.
My BACK SEAT was on FIRE!!!
At first I wondered why there was this weird orange glow coming from behind me. My brain at first couldn’t reconcile the sight of flames inside of my nice new car.
fire…. car…. fire… car… FIRE?!? CAR?!?!?
I had to get out of there! I pulled my car over as far as I could (no shoulder, remember?) and jumped out. The flames were lapping at the neck of my bass and spreading into the front seat. What should I do? What did I need? My phone! I needed my phone. I knew that. People needed to be told that my car was on fire. My bass! My bass was on fire! AAH! I opened the tailgate and pulled my bass out of the building inferno and into the single digit cold of the expressway.
I ran around to the passenger seat of the car. Where was my phone? I needed it! It was on the passenger seat, which was now very much on fire. I grabbed it, avoiding the flames, plus some other random stuff like:
-A book on tape set from the Evanston Public Library (minus the tape still in the player of the car)
-my novel (I may have some time to kill, right? Maybe I could get some good reading done)
-the Chicago Reader (the free weekly Chicago paper)
I ran back behind the car, making sure to lock it first (gotta keep the highway thieves out of my inferno car, right?), grabbed my bass (minus my bass wheel, which was still inside the car), and started sprinting down the highway and screaming.
Stepping outside of myself that night, I can imagine the bizarre sight I must have made to the observers in the long line of cars that I had gridlocked (2 lanes, no shoulder, remember?) with my flaming car. People must have been bewildered by the sight of a station wagon in a flaming inferno and a man running and screaming while also carrying a double bass.
This was the moment in my life when I decided that freelance music was not the life for me.
I got a few hundred feet away and called 911:
“My car’s on fire! Aaaargh! Fire! Fire!”
“Calm down, sir. Where are you?”
“I’m above Chinatown! Fire!”
“Sir, please explain where you are.”
“Freeway! Fire! Aargh!”
They found me anyway. Perhaps the giant torch of a car and massive resulting gridlock were a hint.
Then I decided to call my parents:
“Aaargh! My car’s on fire! Everything’s burning! I’ve got to go!”
Click.
That must have been a restful late night call for my parents.
Then I called my fiancée. Yet another hysterical conversation from me, with her trying to get me to explain exactly where I was and what was going on. She somehow got the information out of me, and she headed out to come find me.
I realized that, although I had gotten a few hundred feet away, I didn’t know what constituted a safe distance from a burning car. They don’t tell you the safe burning car distance when you buy a car at the Saturn dealer. I chugged down the expressway a little more just to be safe.
I had just cleared out of there and turned around to face the car when the gas tank blew.
My own intimate experience with car explosions leads me to believe that Hollywood exaggerates a bit when they portray car explosions in the movies. Parts didn’t fly everywhere, and I wasn’t blown backward. There was a fire, a boom, and then a much bigger fire.
The most surreal moment of the night came after that. Saturn auto bodies are made mostly out of plastic, and I saw the exterior of my car melt off of the metal frame like ice cream on a hot summer day. Like lava, the melted exterior formed a rivulet of hot molten plastic and ran down the expressway next to me. I watched it, covered in soot, holding my bass, novel, and Chicago Reader, watching the scene unfold with an almost Zen-like serenity. I had entered a state of calm (i.e. shock) and was simply interested in the events around me, forgetting momentarily that I was the main character in this drama.
Two fire trucks and five police cruisers eventually made their way to me. The fire trucks hosed down the smoldering husk of my former car as the police searched me for weapons.
Hands on the hood of the police cruiser, bass on the ground next to me, the vast crowd of automobiles lined up behind me, I had the realization that maybe Saturns weren’t so reliable after all.
After searching me, I had the bizarre task of describing to the policemen how to load my bass into one of their cruisers. One of them didn’t have the protective divider between the front and back seat, and we proceeded to figure out how to best recline the front seat and wedge in my bass.
“Just a little more back…now go left….that’s it…no, wait, let’s angle it this way…”
My car was now not on fire anymore. A tow truck arrived, hitched it up, and started to pull it away. All four of my tires immediately fell off in chunks, as did my license plates. All of my windows were gone, and the interior was nothing but charred blackened crust on the metal frame of my former car.
“Do you need anything out of the vehicle, sir?” asked one of the officers.
I declined. I needed a whole bunch of stuff in there (to this day I look for a piece of music or a CD, only to realize that it was in the car when it exploded), but I had absolutely no desire to get a closer view of the wreckage.
The cops waited with me as my fiancée arrived, and she and I loaded up my bass into the back of her car (her car was a duplicate of mine, remember?) and helped me into the front seat.
I was covered with soot and smelled so badly of burnt plastic that despite the Arctic temperature we had to keep the windows open as we made our way home.
We bagged my jacket, pants and shirt in double and triple plastic bags, but the smell was still overwhelming. I was covered in grime and had a hard time seeing and breathing, but I took a shower and hoped that I’d be OK (no health insurance—freelance musician, remember?).
Traumatizing? You’d better believe it. I get nauseous whenever I pass the spot on the freeway where it happened (for years I would take other routes to avoid that memorable spot). Little did I realize that the worst was yet to come, namely the nightmare of dealing with the Saturn Corporation about this matter.
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Wow! Simply, Wow! I had no idea anything like that had happened to you. Thank God you’re alright!
I keep thinking to myself, “what if the fire had started under the drivers seat?”
There’s no doubt I would have acted the similarly. I’ve driven with a check engine light, and after my car has started acting up. I wouldn’t have pulled over either, especially if I were on a two lane highway with no shoulder in the middle of winter.
It’s been a little over a year since I traded my little Saturn Ion3 in for a Pontiac G6. It was a great little car and I would have recommended it to anyone. I’m very interested in how Saturn dealt with you after the fire.
-Bill Colwill
P.S Off the subject, but your new layout is very nice.
Far and away the BEST blog post I have ever read. I am sure you already know, but the illustrations make this. I love how we don’t see color until the fire starts up!
Maybe I’m being a bit picky, but this isn’t a gig story, it’s a commute story. And as such, it could draw an even wider audience. Now, when your bass bursts into flames onstage, that’s a gig story.
No, I don’t have that story, the closest I get is when a crack opened up in the side of my bass during a quiet moment of A Little Night Music with a very noticeable bang. It helped that there was a microphone on the bass.
Anyway, I’m dying to hear the "corporate monster" conclusion. I’m sure they said you were negligent in not pulling off the road the instant the check engine light came on. (I drove for nearly a damn year with the check engine light on in my Subaru; no garage could find the true cause, until finally the knock sensor failed and was replaced. I still get disoriented when I start the car and the light is off…)
Wow what a crazy story!! You must’ve been freaking out – I know I would have been!!!
And your bass coming so close to those flames!! (I think I’ve had nightmares like this story – but you lived it). Wow that’s a great one to tell your grandkids!!
It sounds like the catalytic converter in your Saturn’s exhaust system failed. This would explain the check engine light, the bang, and the fire, which probably resulted from the catalyst blowing very hot exhaust gases onto the underside of your car’s floorpan. This last thing would have ignited the sound deadening insulation under the carpet, as well as the carpet and the rear seat upholstery.
hi jason, this must have been an experience for you. I tried to picture a car with a burning bass inside, and I just simply couldnt!
Thank your lucky stars for your bass that survive, you being still alive and that no lives were harmed in the process.
And also, no more Saturns in future right?
Sorry for your loss, but your story and your drawings are really humorous, and im still laughing! *haha*
It’s amazing how your stick figures really convery emotion.
And I will never ever buy a saturn!!
Well, I give up. I’ve driven my little red Saturn for two years with its Check Engine light going on and off, almost randomly. I was told it was most likely due to gasoline quality issues. Now I guess I’ll go ahead and make an appointment for a checkup.
Thanks for the warning.
Nice post!
Thanks for all the comments on my car explosion story, folks. I have a second part to this which will be coming out soon, so I’ll give a few more details about exactly what happened. It was an experience that I hope not to repeat again.
Gosh Jason, it seemed to be a nightmare…
The blessing is that you are alright and that your bass is fine.
Actually, this is no reason not to buy a Saturn. Other cars catch fire, too — cars from companies based in Japan, in fact:
http://www.interfire.org/features/legalview.asp?date=07292005
…and in Germany:
http://bimmer.roadfly.com/bmw/forums/e53/599181-1.html
Think about it. The truth is, most car manufacturers have experienced some problems with fire. When you move millions of units in product, aberrations happen. No car manufacturer’s vehicles catch on fire as the rule.
I certainly haven’t seen many automobiles’ charred corpses strewn along my local highways, and no story of fires is going to stop me from buying an manufacturer’s automobiles.
Just wondering if I’m the only one noticing how that car looks like a certain car from an animated SNL skit with two superheros…hmm…
My drawings definitely look like the SNL skit you were mentioning–I didn’t notice that before!
No one manufacturer’s cars catch fire as the rule, but looking at GM statistics for these sort of accidents many make one reconsider whether or not to go American. My experiences with Saturn are pretty negative compared to my Honda or Subaru experiences, and I’ll relate them in more detail in the future on this blog.
Dude. Holy crap. Jason, you’re a bass hero, an friggin’ BASS HERO.
Jacque: WTF are you smokin, bro? It’s a gig story. Commuting is when normal people who have normal jobs drive normal cars to work, and back again. And many of them have health insurance.
I’m driving a toyota with 238,000 miles on it 800 miles down to Miami for an audition. (We mounted a fire extinguisher inside – but only ‘cuz my fingerings are so HOT! :)) It’s motivation to win the audition, ‘cuz I don’t know if she’ll make it back home!! (just kidding baby, I know you’re good for it)
Say a prayer for me. No health insurance either. We keep it real like that…
That was one hell of a story, especially the pictorial elements.
Occasionally I think what I would do if the house caught fire, and I instantly look for the laptop. I imagine you are equally joined at the hip to your bass.
I will be keeping track of your blog for sure and thanks for joining my MBL community
Ed
Wow!I was thinking about buying a Saturn but bought a Honda Element instead to replace my ’92 Lincoln Town Car wit 260k miles.
Had a Volkwagen 412 station wagon catch fire on me with my 2 and 4 year olds in the car but we all survived. Scary.
The best bass blog!
I had a friend who had a car explode once. They were making a cross country trek from Washington D.C. back to school in San Diego. They were not five miles from campus when his car caught fire, and all his possessions (He was moving back to school) were lost, including two classical guitars! I am just glad you got your bass out!
Doug
😆 😆 😛 ❗ ➡
Funny story and I love the cartoons!!
Hey Jason! I’ve always wondered…what model was the Saturn that you had because I drive a LW200 wagon. I really hope it’s not the same kind! haha
It was an LW200 wagon! But if yours hasn’t blown up yet, you’re probably fine.
you have mad drawing skills,wow
this is a preety cool blog you have set up
Jason, I lied with my last post. That was a good post, however THIS is the best thing I have ever read, although I’m very sorry you had to endure it. Every time I scrolled down to the next fiery drawing, I just lost it. That truly is the gig from hell — or *in* hell!
Jason,
Your story of the flaming Saturn wagon combined with a bass inferno is one of the most captivating and best illustrated life experiences I’ve read in a long time. I too am a double bassist and I would have risked personal injury as did you to save my bass. I hope you got a big check out of all this. If this should ever happen again just make like Ditters Von Ditterdorf and run for your life! Please keep writing because you’re very gifted at it. Happy Holidays to you and yours. jay and family
Great story, Jason – the drawings, of course, make it even more real! My abbreviated car story: I was loading multiple basses into the back of my car after a very long country club gig, when one of the stoned members floored his car from it’s parked stance somewhere behind me. He proceeds to smash up three cars like a line of dominoes with mine in the middle. If I had moved a second later, I’d be half the man I am today. I did decline his offer to take me to the ER for a checkup, preferring a sober friend.
that was HILARIOUS i think it is funny how the guy got his guitar case out.my car caugt on fire as well.Just when my mum was putting me my 2 brothers and my sister in the car she smelt a fire smell and my brother and me got the 2 babies out the car and we rushed into the house and thank goodness she wasn’t driving cause we would be burnt and my Dragon In A Wagon book got burnt and I had it since i was 1 year old and now i’m 8 years old today
funny
My day gig at Cars.com exposes me to plenty of information about the automobile industry. Some of you may know that Saturn “died” as a brand a few days ago. Here’s an interesting perspective on Saturn’s mortality:
http://blogs.harvardbusiness.org/cs/2009/10/weep_not_for_saturn_the_brand.html
We love you Mr. Heath. Try not to get yourself killed in another freak car explosion! Who else will play the creature during our Fright Night concerts?
Wow, glad I have a fire extinguisher in my car.
U fail at drawing
The artwork on this is brill however I am confused as to why a designer beard/tash appears after the car sets alight!
Loving the pictures, lol, I just got rid of my Saturn about a week ago as it was continually dying on me
Our friends Saturn was found engulfed in flames in Sept 2008 she has been missing ever since no one has seen her. Thank you for this post it puts a care fire into perspective, her car melted too, 3 years later the black spot is still on the road and there is melted car parts in the pavement.
I know this was written a while ago but I gotta tell you how much it made me laugh. Our Saturn caught on fire today so I looked up Saturn and fire on the internet and this came up. I think I laughed harder cause my husband and our reaction was a lot like yours. So thank you for the funny pictures and making me laugh.
Oh my god I can’t believe that happened to you! I love the drawing!