No, there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with my truck, Reader. Well, one of the many eight fine cylinders isn’t firing. Which is Not a Big Deal, and a mechanic will soon fix it.
But my friend (and architect and fellow beekeeper) Bob LOVES old cars, and he has delighted in my truck. He could hardly hold himself back from digging into it.
We stopped at Bob and Kim’s house and somehow the talk turned to my misfiring 5th cylinder, at which point Bob grabbed a handful of tools and said, “Let’s check it out!”
Of course, once he got into my truck, he needed more than the few tools he brought with him. When this occurs (and it always occurs), my job is to run to the basement and then bring to Bob whatever tool he requires. I think he’s surprised that every time he asks, “Do you have a _______?,” my answer is always, “Yes.”
These sorts of jobs almost always engage whoever is around. Which means that Bob employed his wife, Kim, to Google and research the firing sequences of 1972 Chevy pickup cylinders. She was the one who told us which of the cylinders is the 5th cylinder. She was also the one to fire up the truck.
And, in case you’re wondering, Reader, yes, I also ended up flat on my back in my driveway under my truck and getting my hands quite filthy.
It’s very good to know and be comfortable in the guts of your own truck.
Bob is currently building four top-bar hives that will knock your socks off. If you want one, let me know. Worth every penny of whatever he decides to ask for them.