Mean Green Machine Update

"It gets the same gas mileage going 70 as it does going 20."

"I had it inspected earlier this year but never bothered to license it."

These are just two of the interesting statements made by the good ol' boy who sold me my truck. I am not sure what kind of gas mileage it gets, but upon driving the beast a few times on the highway, it was capable of reaching a maximum speed of only 60 mph on a flat surface, 65 going downhill, and 50 going uphill (all while at full throttle.) 70 mph is a fantasy- a figment of the old man's early onset dementia. As for having it inspected this year- well I guess if this were 2003 he would have been telling the truth. The registration and inspection sticker reflected this fact. As a side effect of years of neglect, when I had the truck inspected it was found to not have functioning rear brakes whatsoever. That's right- the brake lines weren't even connected. $1,042 later and only after a very lenient inspection of the rest of the truck's systems (including a leak at the exhaust mainfold and a leaky power steering pump), it passed inspection.

I went to get it licensed that afternoon. I arrived at the license office with 50 minutes to spare before they closed. Too bad they relocated the license office back in November to the building it was in two relocations ago at the corner of Vandiver and Providence roads. Eventually I found the correct building where I waited in line until 4:55 before it was finally my turn. I paid my fees and taxes and puttered home with my new plates affixed to my beautiful green truck. I notice it running pretty rough on the way home so I resolved to work on it the next day.

As the engine stalled, misfired, backfired, and lurched Alex and I headed to the parts store for new spark plugs, plug wires, distributor cap, a distributor rotor, and a repair manual ($86). As we drove toward home, a kind passerby yelled out the window of his perfectly maintained Honda Element, "You're losing coolant!" I nodded a knowing nod (as I had already noticed and tried to ignore the temperature gauge pegged at the "H") and pulled over. I drove off the shoulder and through the ditch along highway 63, abandoned the vehicle in a nearby parking lot, and called my mommy for a ride. Then Bethany met us all in Ashland after she got off work early and took Alex, me, and my wounded pride home.

The next day I drove to the parts store in Columbia once again and purchased a thermostat and some coolant ($13.) I installed them and the various ignition parts that I had purchased the prior day. I shredded three knuckles removing the last spark plug and actually bled on the newly installed plug wires. I thought it was a badge of honor. After two and a half hours of gratifying yet painful labor, I started her up and headed home. 500 yards down the road I heard a loud "bang" and an ensuing grinding sound accompanied by a good deal of smoke.

I pulled over again and called my loving wife for a ride. She and Alex picked me up after rushing through their lunch at home. By this time, my patience and affection for my new vehicle and its quirks were beginning to wane. I imagined the conversation I might have with the man who sold me this fine automobile were I to see him ever again. I thought it wise to avoid such a confrontation.

The next day, I had the beast towed to the garage and had my mechanic check the water pump. He called and said the pump was fine. I had simply forgotten to bleed the air out of the radiator when I refilled it with fluid. He was impressed with the repairs I had made. As I began to swell with pride he offered the following statement, "You know, this thing runs even worse than it did the other day when it was here."

I said, "I know. I hoped the plugs and such would have helped."

"No, its your carburetor. Its shot."

"How much...?"

"You should have someone you know put one in for you or rebuild it for you."

"Ballpark for you to put a rebuilt one in."

"$450."

"I think I'll just limp it along till it quits."

"I would. Also, that noise you heard was your A/C compressor. A piece of metal broke loose and flew out through the side of it. There was a piece of metal grinding away inside and the smoke was from the belt burning when it stopped spinning finally. We just took that out and threw it away. No charge."

"I appreciate that."

"There was another noise coming from your heater fan but the book says to charge you for three hours of labor just to diagnose it, so we'll just pretend like we didn't hear that."

"Thanks. Anything else?"

"Yeah, there is a noise coming from your bell housing but we won't even talk about that."

"Yeah, let's not."

"Well, its all put back together and ready to drive home." ($125 including tow.)

On the way home, I reached a whopping 75 mph going downhill at full throttle. I was even able to stay above 55 mph going uphill. Looks like my bloody knuckles were not a wasted sacrifice afterall.

Maybe Santa will bring me a new carburetor for Christmas. I deserve it. I've been real good this year. I didn't even kill that old farmer.