Not long after the final chunk of driving before the pandemic started, I drove my little Zastava the hour or so to my mechanic's shop. The aim was to fix a plethora of leaks, change the belts, plus to finally get it to freakin' start reliably, before another driving season would occur.
The car ended up producing some sort of worrying, clutch-like smell about 30-45min in (it's been so long now, I can't remember exactly why). With a strong desire to not have to call a tow truck, I pulled onto the hard shoulder of the highway and waited for the smell to subside before continuing. Eventually, we reached our destination, but not before the brake pedal suddenly got as hard as a rock.
Waiting in the Shadows
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