Have I ever told you about the time I was driving my boss’s Olds 98 through the Great Smoky Mountains and discovered during a downhill portion that the brakes didn’t work any more? So I reached for the parking brake, only to feel the line snap off as I applied it (apparently it was rusted through). Found an uphill entrance to a parking lot that worked to get us slowed enough to safely shut the car off. In retrospect, how scary, but in the moment there wasn’t time to freak out.
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