Have a near death experience

Back in 2003 I bought a 1957 Chrysler Imperial on eBay. I bought it from a guy in LA sight unseen, took Morgan Hammer with me on a jetplane, and drove the fucker back. Now, this was a nearly 50 year old car, with unknown, but almost certain mechanical problems, limitations, anomalies and "character". We were not disappointed in our quest for adventure. All sorts of things seemed to happen, but most significantly was our trip over Grant's Pass, Oregon. A few hundred miles earlier, we started to hear a high-pitched whine, as if some bearing was going out. We decided it probably was the generator, but what were we going to do? So, we kept driving. As night fell, we were about 3 miles from the peak of Grant's Pass, when the headlights faded to nothing. Power was petering out, and, at 40 mph, we prayed we would crest before it completely failed. Let me describe to you the scene: A 2 ton, flat black painted, 50 year old, 20 foot long juggernaut with no seatbelts, no headlights, no tailights, no hazards was sputtering at 40 mph up a major pass. There's no shoulder, so we can't pull over safely. Morgan grabs a fashlight and sweeps it quickly across the road so I can see where I'm driving. It's now pitch black, and every time a car comes up on us doing almost twice our speed, he quickly shines it out our back window to show that there is, in fact, a gigantic car in front of them. Of course, ever time he does that, I can't see the road and it's continuously labyrinthine curves. Finally we summit and start picking up speed down the other side. Whereas this minimizes the potential crash from behind, it makes my driving that much more tense. Finally, we see a sign for exit 18, 1/2 mile. We go screaming around the offramp curves, barely avoiding the concrete barriers, as we coast slowly down towards lights. The Imperial finally dies completely and we coast silently for the last 400 yards to the comforting glow of an independent gas station. The car lost momentum and came to a gentle rest less than 15 feet from their front door, and a half hour before closing. We managed to call a flat-bed tow truck and make it to another town that someone that could fix an ancient generator. Good times.