A Tired Old Truck Story
03/01/10 06:15 PM | Projectile
The old Dodge truck sits waiting in the driveway. The odometer says 114550 miles. That is all the old truck has said for three months or better, and it may say that for some time more to come.
About three months ago that old Dodge truck staggered home, dying every few miles and getting progressively harder to start. The last five miles were an exercise in patience and pious prayer, though not all the words that came from the drivers mouth would normally be thought of as prayer. During those last miles God was spoken to and about a lot by the lone occupant in the old Dodge truck. That truck had died at least six times in the last three miles, and the cranking to get it re-fired for more belching and sputtering, and most importantly rolling taxed the battery to it's limits.
The driver got that old truck off the highway ramp as it again died, momentum and a down hill grade allowed the driver get into the Marsh Supermarket parking lot. Momentum also allowed the driver to get out of the path of others and coast to a stop sideways covering three spots. The driver feared that there it would sit for eternity, or at least until a decent human willing to offer a battery jump came by. The driver had his cables out and waited. Mercifully the wait was not long.
The hood was up, the driver was down when a gentleman stopped and asked, "Need a jump?"
"Yes, I do, but I'm afraid it may take a while, this battery is barely cranking now."
The savior jockeyed his car into position and then popped open his own hood, the driver found the battery posts and attached the cables to either vehicle and asked the man to run his car for a few minutes before attempting to crank 'er over.
It was cold; barely 25°, both men went to their respective vehicles, one running and warm, the other silent and cold. After an interminable wait the driver hit the key, the old truck grunted like a pregnant sow stuck in the mud, cranked over twice and wheezed to silence.
The gentleman got out so the driver did too. "What's wrong with it?"
"Starving for fuel I think, maybe clogged filter or dying fuel pump, I'm less than two miles from home, if I can get it started and with a little luck I can get it there," the driver explained.
They went back to their vehicles and waited another handful of minutes. After the driver decided he couldn't take the cold any more he gestured to the gentleman, who revved his motor a bit as he again turned the key and massaged the accelerator pedal. The engine balked then fired, the driver played the peddle like an impresario for a few seconds and the engine seemed to be getting enough gas to idle. The driver leapt from the door, slipped and went down on one knee in the parking lot trying to get to the cables and get the hood closed before the gas lines and pump again failed him.
The Driver unhooked the clamps from the gentleman's battery terminals, closed his hood and thanked him even as he was backing away to get the old trucks connections undone and to get rolling. The old truck was on its last legs. The challenge was to get the old truck safely home. The aspiration of the old truck was sporadic and unreliable, too much throttle pressure and it choked, not enough and it gasps and tries to die, the solution was to keep nerfing the peddle and surging forward, ever aware of the pulse of the foundering mechanical creature around the driver.
This nerfing process was also confounded by traffic, though sparse still a challenge in an old truck that would barely get to 30 mph and was further exacerbated by traffic lights, yet the old Dodge truck limped home like an African Elephant to die in it's sacred burial ground (or driveway, as the metaphor may be).
That tire was aired up two days before the photo,
(this truck is trying to die and doing a good job of it!)
The truck has waited in the driveway for suitable weather, parts and timing. The Old Truck has a tire that won't hold air for more than a few days. It has a new fuel pump, and a new fuel filter, there is gas in the old Dodge truck and still, it just won't start. The odometer says 114550 miles. The old Dodge truck sits waiting.
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
The driver got that old truck off the highway ramp as it again died, momentum and a down hill grade allowed the driver get into the Marsh Supermarket parking lot. Momentum also allowed the driver to get out of the path of others and coast to a stop sideways covering three spots. The driver feared that there it would sit for eternity, or at least until a decent human willing to offer a battery jump came by. The driver had his cables out and waited. Mercifully the wait was not long.
The hood was up, the driver was down when a gentleman stopped and asked, "Need a jump?"
"Yes, I do, but I'm afraid it may take a while, this battery is barely cranking now."
The savior jockeyed his car into position and then popped open his own hood, the driver found the battery posts and attached the cables to either vehicle and asked the man to run his car for a few minutes before attempting to crank 'er over.
It was cold; barely 25°, both men went to their respective vehicles, one running and warm, the other silent and cold. After an interminable wait the driver hit the key, the old truck grunted like a pregnant sow stuck in the mud, cranked over twice and wheezed to silence.
The gentleman got out so the driver did too. "What's wrong with it?"
"Starving for fuel I think, maybe clogged filter or dying fuel pump, I'm less than two miles from home, if I can get it started and with a little luck I can get it there," the driver explained.
They went back to their vehicles and waited another handful of minutes. After the driver decided he couldn't take the cold any more he gestured to the gentleman, who revved his motor a bit as he again turned the key and massaged the accelerator pedal. The engine balked then fired, the driver played the peddle like an impresario for a few seconds and the engine seemed to be getting enough gas to idle. The driver leapt from the door, slipped and went down on one knee in the parking lot trying to get to the cables and get the hood closed before the gas lines and pump again failed him.
The Driver unhooked the clamps from the gentleman's battery terminals, closed his hood and thanked him even as he was backing away to get the old trucks connections undone and to get rolling. The old truck was on its last legs. The challenge was to get the old truck safely home. The aspiration of the old truck was sporadic and unreliable, too much throttle pressure and it choked, not enough and it gasps and tries to die, the solution was to keep nerfing the peddle and surging forward, ever aware of the pulse of the foundering mechanical creature around the driver.
This nerfing process was also confounded by traffic, though sparse still a challenge in an old truck that would barely get to 30 mph and was further exacerbated by traffic lights, yet the old Dodge truck limped home like an African Elephant to die in it's sacred burial ground (or driveway, as the metaphor may be).
That tire was aired up two days before the photo,
(this truck is trying to die and doing a good job of it!)
The truck has waited in the driveway for suitable weather, parts and timing. The Old Truck has a tire that won't hold air for more than a few days. It has a new fuel pump, and a new fuel filter, there is gas in the old Dodge truck and still, it just won't start. The odometer says 114550 miles. The old Dodge truck sits waiting.
Chuck Pace ©2010
|