- Manual windows
- Manual mirrors
- No A/C
- Heater is Iffy
- 454 Big Block bored over to 462
- New starter
- No turn signals
- Wipers don’t work
- No Glove box
- Needs tires
- Needs tune-up
- Wife hates it
- Currently full of ‘stuff’ for the dump which is included in price
What isn’t mentioned is that the truck is currently residing in front of Daniel & Jennifer’s home. Here’s the story …
This morning, after stalling as long as I could, I disconnected the battery charger from the truck, wound up the extension cord, and put them away. Then I got my truck key, walked slowly back to the truck, climbed in, inserted the key in the ignition, held my breath, and turned the key.
So, I checked all the wiring to make sure the proper voltage was present at the locations required. My meter told me everything was just fine. The only other problem it could be, since this was a brand new starter, was the control wire at the starter, that receives voltage when you turn the key that little bit extra to engage the starter, was on the wrong terminal. There are two choices, marked R and S. I do not know which one it was on, but I layer on the wet ground and made the change and that corrected the problem.
The starter turned that big engine fast enough to move it down the road at about 27 mph. It didn’t start right away, but I knew it would. It’s been sitting for a while and big blocks don’t like that.
There was a brief lull in the rain this afternoon so I decided to make a dump run. I covered the junk in the back, cranked the engine, then drove off. Though the engine idled OK, it doesn’t do well when under load, like when it’s in gear. It has no power, but it was chugging along. Sounded like it was running on 2 cylinders at times. Really running rich and I’m sure the plugs got terribly fouled and it finally quit at 4 Corners, where N. Vernonia Road crosses Columbia Blvd. I was at the stop line and had to get the truck out of the way. The only way to do that was to push it backwards and get it to the curb.
So, I got out, stood with my back against the driver’s door jamb and started inching the truck backwards one painful inch at a time. I got it back about 10 feet before I had to stop and direct traffic around my efforts. Everyone was very willing to follow my suggestions that they drive around me and not stop to give me a hand. Then, two young ladies passed me going the other way, turned around and got out to give me a hand. With their assistance, the truck was moved quickly out of the way.
I have no idea who they were. It was a very welcome anonymous gesture of good will. They just wanted to help, did the dead, then went on their merry way. It was awesome and I couldn’t thank them enough. They were well aware, too, that many members of the male gender had already passed me by so their effort had more meaning. Their efforts, reaffirmed my belief that there are still really good people around us. The girls saved me from having a heart attack, I’m sure. At least from having one right away. Maybe later.
Once the truck was out of the way I called Diane to come get me. She did, then I got tools and she took me back so I could see about working on it and, perhaps, resurrecting it one more time. That wasn’t to be, so she called Jeff to come give me hand getting it either home, or over to Daniel and Jennifer’s. We decided on D&J’s because it was a pretty flat trip, and just two corners. Corners were important because the truck has power steering and it’s totally hard to turn corners when the motor isn’t running. Takes a lot of muscle power, something that is fleeing from my aging body a little bit every day.
I didn’t all D&J to ask permission to park the truck in front of their house for a bit but they were kind enough to not tell me to move it along. The plan is to engage one of Jeff’s friends, who is a mechanic, to see what he can do to make the truck run.
OK – that’s it. I’ll add the end of this part of the “Truck Story” tomorrow.
The “For Sale” offer is bogus, of course, unless someone really want’s to pay $17,000. The OBO will be honored, too, with the understanding that I have a reserve amount in mind. I suspect that if you were inclined to invest $10,000, or so, it might be work $17,000. It could happen.
One of the interesting things about today’s activities is that both of our children asked why I didn’t call one of them first for help. I had to give that some thought because it was a very valid question. Why didn’t I call one of them first? After devoting an extraordinary number of brain cells to this question, I believe I came up with a valid answer but it requires a little bit of history to ensure it is understood in context.
When Diane and I were married, our first home was on the tiny island of Okinawa in the Ryukyu Islands which are located between Japan and Taiwan. For me it wasn’t a big deal because I’d been there before on a ship, but for Diane it was life-changing. She left the comfortable surroundings of her youth and embarked with me on an adventure that is still in progress today. Because we never lived close to home, where we grew up, we learned quickly to rely on each other to solve our problems. It became a way of life for us, and just became routine. When one of us needed help, they called the other. It worked then, and it works now. Even though we’re living in close proximity to our children, we still rely on each other the most. It’s still a habit, hard to break. We know they would help at the drop of a hat, and there have been times we’ve had to ask, but we look at it from the perspective that they have their own families to take care of now and don’t need us to add to their work load. That’s just us and we hope they understand. One of these days they will be essential for our survival and I’m relying on Jeff and/or Jennifer to change my diaper, as needed until I can’t coherently string more than 4 words together.
One of these days I might just start mumbling to see of that works. Just for fun.
Honestly, if I were them, I’d willingly hire someone to do it of me.
All of this chatter about diapers reminds me that Jennifer gave us a mason jar full of chocolate covered peanut clusters. Yes, that’s a terrible comparison, but just so you know, the clusters are really good. She made them with chocolate bark of some sort, she said, and I’ve learned that I like it a lot. It’s almost gone so she can have her jar back, probably tomorrow.