Caption: "Now class here's the question. Is the word diesel a NOUN or a VERB? Yes Mary?"
Didn't I tell you? Everybody is talking about it, right? If there is one thing that remains constant over time, it's that living in the middle lane is really not that simple. And at times, it can be down right aggravatin'.
So let's how it's going out there on the odd byways of life.
The Carburetor Did It
part three
For about a week I am gleeful. Not only am I getting where I need to go and back, I am even getting to some places I just want to go. However, almost a week to the second my father in law helped me advance the distributor? Out of nowhere the popping returns. But now it is much louder. Testosterone ego or no, it’s time to drive this puppy to a garage.
The mechanic greets me with open toolbox. I tell him the whole sordid story and wonder why he isn’t taking notes. He does utter something akin to the expression, “hmmmm?” I press for specifics.
“I really don’t know. I’ll give you a call when I figure it out.”
Ill at ease, I shuffle off to work. I feel like I’m dropping the baby off at the babysitter for the first time. Well sort of. I can’t concentrate at work. I get tired of waiting for his call, so I boldly call him near the end of the day. I was so happy to hear, “nothing wrong at all. Just needed a little tune up. You can pick it up any time.”
Wow! How great to be working with a pro. So that’s it? All it needs is a little tune up? I sneak away from work early. I pay the man, and joyfully drive out of the garage.
I get three more days of bliss. I develop a powerful sense of connection with my new automotive artisan. From now on I’ll take no cheap advice. I’m going with the man paid to know.
As I’m sure you’ve surmised, this can’t be the end of the tale. On day four my blind faith in my new WRENCHMAN begins to wane. My newly tuned up vehicle begins to DIESEL. Maybe some of you think like I did, that DIESEL is a noun defining a a form of fuel. Diesel also functions as a verb, describing a behavior whereby the engine keeps running after the ignition is turned off. I call my new pro and he says?
“Sounds like you got a bad tank of gas.”
“But I got the gas from you!”
“Well, then, it must be something else. Bring it in and I’ll take a look at it.”
Weakly I do as he asks. I take the baby to the babysitter a second time. It is no easier.
Late in the day I call.
“Found your problem. Your idle was too high and so I retarded the distributor a hair.”
Getting into the lingo I venture, “did you check the timing chain?”
“Yep! I could set my clock by it.”
I pick the car up with absolutely no confidence it’s repair will last more than a day. I wonder if “Murphy” needs some graphic examples to support his law? At this point I am hoping to get home and get a good night’s sleep.
I just can’t get a break. Just as I walk through the door I get called to an emergency meeting a medium range missle distance from home. Even though I am shaking with fear the entire drive, I reach my destination without an incident.
So at the meeting I toss in my two cents and head back to little “tweet tweet.”
I gingerly slip the key into the ignition and fire it up. FIRE is a pretty accurate description of the moment. Huge billows of black smoke meander out of my exhaust pipe. The engine stalls several times amid the pall of smoke. Finally it settles down. Hoping to avoid inevitable comments and queries, I high tail it out of there.
I travel several blocks and it happens again. But now as the smoke despoils the air, guess what? The POPPING is back. Only much louder now. I pull to the side of the road to reflect on my dilemma. For some reason adrenalin and my right brain are screaming at me, “ get out there and fix it yourself.”
I leave the engine running, and open the hood. I am not ready for what I see. Small flames are jumping out of the carburetor. I rush to the ignition and shut the engine off. Continuing to imagine I’m in control, I pull a wrench out of MY toolbox and advance the distributor just a hair. Whoa! It works! I, yes I, fixed it. I’m feeling so good I decide to take a longer route home. I’ll drive through the country club area and prance, that’s what I’ll do.
So, did he fix it? Does he drive off into the moonlight, and everybody is happy ever after. I can only say there appears to be some drama left on the stage. Get your tickets at the box office and be here tomorrow.
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