Walt Sommers, the local plumber, was
jubilant when he telephoned Gus Wilson at the Model Garage, to inform him that
Oliver Stafford required his services. Stafford was out at the new
shopping center, which had sprung up in the suburbs like a mushroom in lush
soil.
"I warned Stafford not to have his car
overhauled by a Johnny-come-lately like Paul Ryberg," Walt crowed. "I
tried to get him to take his work to you, but he wouldn't listen. Now his
newly overhauled motor is out here on the shopping-center parking lot, stuck
tighter'n a glacier in Alaska. Get out here fast, Gus, and take over."
"It seems to me," Gus said, "that the
man to call is the fellow who did the overhaul. Why don't you give him a
ring?"
"Are you nuts, Gus?" Sommers inquired.
"You've been in the garage business around here for years and now these
newcomers like Ryberg are out to cut your throat. This is your chance to
show Ryberg up."
"What have you got against this man?"
Gus asked the plumber.
"Nothing," Sommers said, "absolutely
nothing. I hardly know him. But with all this new building in the
suburbs, it's up to us old-timers to hang together. I'm a plumber and
you're a mechanic. If we don't work together to beat down new competition,
we're sunk."
"If Paul Ryberg did Stafford's
overhaul," Gus insisted, "he's the man to call in on this."
"That's just it," Sommers said
exultantly. "Ryberg's away on vacation. Anyway, Stafford's so mad
about this now that he wouldn't call him if he could. In fact, he asked me
to call you."
"In that case," Gus agreed, "I'll be
right out."
When Gus arrived at the shopping center
he found that Stafford's stalled car was attracting considerable attention.
People going in and out of the various stores were stopping to ask questions and
offer advice. It occurred to Gus that if Paul Ryberg's overhaul job had
indeed gone sour, he was in for a lot of bad publicity. On the other hand,
the Model Garage, coming to the rescue in Ryberg's absence, stood to gain
favorable attention.
Walt Sommers smiled as Gus approached
with his tool kit. "Here comes the fellow I wanted you to give your work
to, Stafford. Gus this is Oliver Stafford one of our newcomers."
"Glad to meet you, Stafford," Gus said
as he put down his kit. "Walt phoned me that you were having trouble."
"That's right." Stafford's eyes
held a glint of exasperation. "I had Ryberg do a complete overhaul -
valves, rings, bearings, everything. And now, in less than a hundred
miles, my motor gets hot and sticks. The starter won't budge it."
"You say that the motor got hot?" Gus
asked.
"Yes, I noticed that the heat gauge was
in the red when I parked, but I sort of expected this with a tight motor.
But I didn't expect the engine to be stuck tight when I came out from shopping."
"Maybe it isn't," Gus said.
"Perhaps the starter gear is locked in the flywheel ring gear, I'll take a
look."
Gus pulled the starter and found it
free. With the ring-gear teeth exposed, he tried to turn the motor by
prying against the teeth with a bar. But the motor was, indeed, so tight
that it was impossible to budge it. As he straightened from replacing the
starter, he found himself ringed by curious shoppers.
He smiled to himself when he heard one
of them say, "So that's Gus Wilson, eh? I've heard he's a whiz."
Gus turned to Stafford. "You say
the heat gauge was in the red when you parked? Modern engines don't
usually heat up that much on an overhaul."
Walt Sommers spoke up loudly: "It
depends who has worked on them. If you don't know your business, anything
can happen."
Gus raised the hood, removed the
radiator cap, and peered inside.
"Hmm," he grunted. "Water's
awfully low."
He got down on his knees, peering under
the car, looking for leaks. Seeing none, he began to remove the spark
plugs.
Nothing happened - until he removed the
third plug on the six-cylinder head. As he took out this plug, water
spouted high as though under pressure.
"She'll turn over now," Gus said,
wiping moisture from his leathery features.
"You must have a leaky head gasket."
"Leaky head gasket!" Stafford
exclaimed. "But how would that make the motor stick so it wouldn't turn
over?"
"When you parked your car," Gus
explained, "number three cylinder was about to come up on the compression
stroke. It filled with water, probably from a leaky head gasket, while you
were in shopping. When you tried to start the car, the piston moved up
against the water. With a well-fitted set of rings and a perfect valve
grind, so that the water couldn't escape, it would act about the same as a
cylinder full of cement. Ryberg must have done a good job on those rings
and valves."
Stafford grunted, "and how about the
water in my cylinder?"
"It sounds like a faulty head gasket,"
Gus repeated.
"Yeah," Walt Sommers commented.
"Maybe Ryberg just forgot to tighten
the head bolts."
As Gus turned planning to fetch his tow
car and take the car into the shop, his eyes met the interested and curious gaze
of the ring of spectators, mostly new faces to the area. He hesitated,
then stooped to pick up his long-handled torque wrench.
"It's possible," he said thoughtfully.
"Let's see."
He began to run the torque wrench over
the head bolts, testing them for tightness.
The center bolt of the middle row
turned easily under his hand and lifted. Gus took it out. It was
broken off.
"Hah," Walt Sommers said. "Some
of these young, inexperienced bucks don't know their strength. Ryberg
twisted that head bolt right off."
"Maybe, but not probable," Gus said,
taking his flashlight and peering down in the hole the broken bolt had come
from.
"The stub end of this bolt shows a rust
streak through the metal that indicates a flaw. I'd better tow you in to
the shop, Stafford."
In the Model Garage, Gus faced the
tricky job of removing the broken stub of the bolt from the cylinder block.
"How on earth will you get that out?"
Stafford wanted to know.
"The usual way," Gus told him, "is to
drill a hole through it and then screw in a reverse-threaded tool made of steel
hard enough to cut into the broken stub and remove it. The only trouble
with that method is that if you drill too large a hole in the broken end of the
bolt, the tool will bulge the skeleton of the bolt and lock it in the
cylinder-head threads.
If you drill too small a hole you have
to use too small a reverse-threaded tool to stand the strain of taking out a
rusted-in head bolt. If you break the tool off you're really in a jam,
since it is made of steel too hard to be drilled."
"Then how do you get it out?" Stafford
asked. "It seems like an impossible job."
Gus grinned.
"If a man's hand is steady enough," he
said, "He drills a perfectly aligned hole down through the broken bolt end, just
a hair smaller than the bolt. The remaining portion of the bolt is then so
thin-walled that you can break it away from the cylinder-head threads with a
fine chisel. Then you can take it out with the end of a rat-tailed file."
"You sure know your business, Wilson,"
Stafford said as he watched Gus delicately remove the broken stud bolt from the
cylinder head. "Walt Sommers warned me that Johnny-com-latelies are
dangerous, in plumbing or in auto repair. I should have given you my
work."
"I'd have been happy to have it," Gus
said. "But it seems to me that Ryberg did a good job. My torque
wrench showed that the rest of the head studs were tightened to 60 foot-pounds,
as the factory specifications for this car recommend. Ryberg would hardly
bear down on this one bolt and break it off. Since we know from the rust
streak through the metal at the break that there was a flaw in that stud, which
Ryberg couldn't have known about or prevented, I hardly see where he can be
blamed."
Stafford spoke thoughtfully; "It seems
to me that you are either a very square guy, Wilson, or you don't want any more
business."
"I want all the business I can get,"
Gus told him, "but not by digging at a competitor's reputation. I wouldn't
know Paul Ryberg if I met him face to face, but I do know the bad publicity a
thing like this could bring him in a new community. It could put him out
of business."
Stafford countered, "and give you more
business."
"Probably," Gus said, "for a while.
But this area is growing so fast that
we need all the skilled help we can get. Folks expect services when they
move to a new place, and if they don't get them that place stops growing.
In the long run, putting the skids under a fellow like Ryberg would cause me and
everyone else in the community to lose. The way I see it, his coming here
is progress."
"I guess it is, at that." Stafford
conceded. "If folks who move here don't get the services, they'll stop
coming.
Maybe Sommers didn't think of that.
By the way, I hear Paul Ryberg's brother is coming, too, to open a shop in
town."
"You don't say," Gus said. "Do
you know what line he's in?"
"Yes, let's see - Ryberg told me."
Stafford's eyes suddenly widened as they met Gus's. "Come to think of it -
his brother is a plumber."
"I see," Gus said, and he did see very
clearly.
He drained Stafford's car of oil, to
make sure there was no water in the oil pan, and set about installing a new
head-bolt stud and gasket.
As he worked, his mind drifted to Walt
Sommers. Some folks, he thought, are scared of progress when it starts
getting close.
END
