Jivermo wrote: ↑Sun Dec 03, 2017 1:07 pm
Hope you are feeling a bit better now, mister!
Oh, but it got worse. Thank-you and Marc for accomodating to my bleary nauseaity. I felt like I was ninety nine years old.
I could not even register the fact that we got anything done at all, but I guess we did.
It has all been such a bleary blur. I cannot believe that I pushed up to WNY, down to Atlanta, switched cars (AlexusOne to AlexusToo) then drove to Pensacola in one swell foop, and moved my toolbox and a skeleton inventory into NaranjaWesty and was on the road by noon. The drive down to Miami was characterized by a welcome re-acquaintance with NaranjaWesty, which accounted for itself awfully well after sitting all summer. I did not remember to even so much as:
check the oil
check tire pressures
wash the windows
The engine was down a full quart. Why was that? Oh yeah, Naranja was ripping all over the lower east coast in March with Chloe's engine sitting inside the sliding door. I never DID put that poor thing to bed before abandoning it in the Law Firm's garage. So, rather than add a quart, I just did the 73,000 mile interval oil change outside of Lake City FL. Then I remembered to check the tire pressures, yeesh, initial 30 psi in the fronts, 37 in the rears (free air always! just go to the truck fueling bays at Pilot or Flying J), brought them up to my usual freeway 37 front/46 rear.
After a full 746 mile day of driving, I was but one mile from Jivermo's house and a richly anticipated Total System Collapse when NaranjaWesty slyly asked me, "hey remember the good ol days? Sure you do . . . " and died dead on you-guessed-it,
US Route 1 Downtown Miami Friday Night Traffic Just As The Light Turned Green.
No restart forthcoming, either. Without even thinking about it, I shut off the headlamps, turned on the flashers, stuck it in 1st gear and motored from the #1 to the #3 lane on the starter motor and kept going right up onto the curb alongside the roadway. On auto-pilot at this point, I pulled out the fuel hose clamp, the 1/4" hose clamp remover and scrooched under the bus with the dizzying headlamp beams and noisily accelerating engines blasting past me. Didn't even have to bring a flashlight, it all fell to hand as it has so many many many times before. Blew out the filter (does nausea respond well to the taste of gasoline and aroma of gasoline fumes? no). There was no obstruction. Put it all back together, pulled the black cap off the AFM through the stroboscopic crazy headlamp splashes from the incessant traffic, and could not hear the fuel pump over the din. Tried squeezing the fuel hose to the left of the cold start valve as I operated the pump via the wiper. It seemed to be under pressure. Started the engine and it died. Started the engine and it died. Started the engine, and the idiot lights stayed out, but I could not hear the engine enough to know if it was running, well? sort-of? barely? Let out the clutch and the car started creeping forward and the idiot lights remained out, so I committed, lunged out into traffic, and made it down to the next intersection where I could hear that it was running enough at least to get me to Jivermo's.
I do not remember the exact diagnostic path we took, but it was pretty efficient, I was told. And the weird rusty ceiling inside the double relay made no sense. Water drains down. The relay lives inside a cozy engine compartment. What was with this moisture damage? Does Miami like to be hot and humid, then drop its temperatures below the dew point so rapidly that humidity instantly condenses on the inside upper surfaces of electrical relays? How would you stop that? We also replaced the steering coupler, an opportunity to lay down, to rest, to close my eyes, to sleep, sleep in eternal slum, wake up! the ground wire is broken.
After we had the new coupler in with a new ground wire, Marc showed up for his engine drop to revisit the front main seal replacement of the early spring. I so did not want to get embroiled in an engine pull, so I took it upon myself to find some other cause of the oil leak. How about an oil sender? How about a nap? We re-installed the VW Audi oil sender because the replacement sender was a madeinchinanowayjose, and I decided that the oil sender leak had to be a simple lack of a copper washer so we could reuse the VW Audi sender. The Universe seemed amenable. Marc? What's the latest?
After an evening discussion of apps, websites, march of progress, troglodytes, stupid little phone screens, refusal to cater to screen burrowing denizens of the modern age, I just dragged off to lay down, to rest, to close my eyes, to stop spinning rooms, to sleep, to die restfully, wake up! I have to peeeeee!
Drove back to Pensacola the very next morning. Made a vow to stop all antibiotics regardless of the spectre of dying from some savage system-wide succumbation to raging infections, I no longer cared to live like this. NaranjaWesty motored perfectly another 742 miles across the Big Cypress and up the west side of Florida to Interstate 10 and 300 miles west to Pensacola, like Miami US 1 Friday Night Traffic Jam never even happened. Thanks, NaranjaWesty:
Stopped by Don's place to help him get a new acquisition (a 1977 2.0) running. Still feeling like crap when the transmission jack came down on my thumb and tore the entire thumbprint skin clear off. Bleeding like a pig, yes, but embarrassedly focused on getting back to work, so I wrapped a paper towel around my thumb and duct-taped it. Unfortunately, I did not align the chunk of skin properly, so it has begun to heal with a big red blob of unprotected meat still exposed on one side and a lump of overlapped thumb print buckled on the other side. Now I can't get into my Tesla or turn on my phone or enter my house and forget about my security clearance at the NSA, I am a persona non gratis. At least my computer still accepts my middle finger scan.
So, this wounding, on top of a fourteen day sentence of nausea throughout the marathon of driving, finally shut me down. I am hunting and pecking at the keyboard with my big paper towel thumb just along for the ride. I can read news stories, though. That just requires a left-handed mouse click. I can do that. I clicked with my left hand and opened up a news story.
"Trump reduces National Monuments in Utah by 85%."
"Trump Offers Full Endorsement of Roy Moore."
Colin
BobD - 78 Bus . . . 112,730 miles
Chloe - 70 bus . . . 217,593 miles
Naranja - 77 Westy . . . 142,970 miles
Pluck - 1973 Squareback . . . . . . 55,600 miles
Alexus - 91 Lexus LS400 . . . 96,675 miles