Well, we've done Engine Survival Stories and Engine Destruction Stories, now let's go down the middle with Salvation stories. You know, those experiences you never would have escaped from in one piece had you not watched one too many McGuyver episodes and remembered to bring your duct tape along. These should not be random good luck stories, no, here we're looking for cases where you made your own good luck.
Here's my contribution: Some time in late '78, I was savoring my coveted "new" VW Beetle, a worn out light blue '69 model. And while it may have been worn out, it was mine, and, well most of you probably understand the feeling. One day, I noticed that it's already none-too-hot performance seemed to be dropping off a tad. Then it began misfiring. Shortly thereafter, it just died. Nope, no cell phones back then. I was miles from town and on my own.
I did the only thing I could think of, I walked to the back and opened up the engine cover. Luckily, I don't smoke, 'cuz if I had been, I wouldn't be here today. I was at once almost overcome by the strongest fuel vapor I've ever smelled. It seemed like snorting gasoline. I lurched back, at first planning to just let the fumes clear. Then I noticed that raw fuel was actually dribbling/slowly flowing from the carb area and much of the engine was awash in it.
A few moments of examination and I had the problem ID-ed -- a badly deteriorated fuel line had detached from something on the carb (I totally disclaim being any sort of VW mechanic...).
Figuring that this was probably bad, I reached in and tried to push it back on. I came right back off. In desperation, I started looking around for something to solve the problem (I have carried duct tape pretty consistently since). Under the passenger seat, I found about 18 inches of grimy magenta-pink fuzzy yarn, the sort that some ghastly piece of 70s clothing would be made from.
Back at the a$$ end of my car, and now standing in a steadily growing puddle of fuel, I got to work. Within a few moments (you work fast and focussed when standing in explosive puddles...), I managed to lash the fuel line back on to whatever it was it had come off of, and had it secure. I gingerly tip-toed out of my wasted gas and pushed the car a few yards down the shoulder and waited a while just to be "safe." Then I got in, cranked it a couple times, it fired up (the good way), and I drove off.
The best part is that I was so cash starved back then that I just drove the car like that for almost another year before I had to park it for good because of an expensive ball joint problem. The hastily tied pink yarn loosened a couple times, and I just cinched it down and went on.
So, anyone else out there ever get their car going with 18 inches of old pink yarn?
Here's my contribution: Some time in late '78, I was savoring my coveted "new" VW Beetle, a worn out light blue '69 model. And while it may have been worn out, it was mine, and, well most of you probably understand the feeling. One day, I noticed that it's already none-too-hot performance seemed to be dropping off a tad. Then it began misfiring. Shortly thereafter, it just died. Nope, no cell phones back then. I was miles from town and on my own.
I did the only thing I could think of, I walked to the back and opened up the engine cover. Luckily, I don't smoke, 'cuz if I had been, I wouldn't be here today. I was at once almost overcome by the strongest fuel vapor I've ever smelled. It seemed like snorting gasoline. I lurched back, at first planning to just let the fumes clear. Then I noticed that raw fuel was actually dribbling/slowly flowing from the carb area and much of the engine was awash in it.
Figuring that this was probably bad, I reached in and tried to push it back on. I came right back off. In desperation, I started looking around for something to solve the problem (I have carried duct tape pretty consistently since). Under the passenger seat, I found about 18 inches of grimy magenta-pink fuzzy yarn, the sort that some ghastly piece of 70s clothing would be made from.
Back at the a$$ end of my car, and now standing in a steadily growing puddle of fuel, I got to work. Within a few moments (you work fast and focussed when standing in explosive puddles...), I managed to lash the fuel line back on to whatever it was it had come off of, and had it secure. I gingerly tip-toed out of my wasted gas and pushed the car a few yards down the shoulder and waited a while just to be "safe." Then I got in, cranked it a couple times, it fired up (the good way), and I drove off.
The best part is that I was so cash starved back then that I just drove the car like that for almost another year before I had to park it for good because of an expensive ball joint problem. The hastily tied pink yarn loosened a couple times, and I just cinched it down and went on.
So, anyone else out there ever get their car going with 18 inches of old pink yarn?