Was it the sign, "Fisherman's Motel," or the raised hood
of a car parked beside the motel office? Gus Wilson wasn't sure which
caused him to apply his brakes and swing off the paving onto the gravel
shoulder.
He glanced down at the mileage on the speedometer
and told himself it was the sign. Gus was on his way back to the Model
Garage from a week's fishing trip, and he was still 200 miles from home.
With the sun going down fast, he decided he better stop for the night and
get some rest.
At that moment a white thatch of hair rose up from
behind the open hood of the car. "Fine weather, ain't it?" the man
called. "You lookin' for a catch?"
"Yep, got anything open?"
Gus's feet started toward the car the man had been
puttering with, but he stopped them. He had promised himself before he set
out on this trip that he wouldn't touch an automobile except to drive it.
"Reckon you can have Number Six" the little man
squeaked. "Mighty nice little cabin, right down by the lake."
When Gus had signed the guest book, the gnomelike
proprietor helped him carry his gear. "See you been doin' some fishin', Mr.
Wilson."
"That's right, up at the Cherry Lakes." But Gus'
tone indicated that the fishing had not been all it might have.
Gus Gets an invite
The little man jerked his thumb, toward the lake.
"Ain't bad anglin' right here. Well, if you'll be needin' anything just
give a holler."
Gus had taken off his fishing jacket and had begun
to clean up. "Just one more thing. Any place around here where a man can
get something to eat?"
"Well, there's a place of sorts up the road, but it
ain't much when it comes to choice vittles. Most folks," he said, nodding
his white head in the direction of the stove, "cook their own meals. Buy
the stuff in our store and serve it up themselves. Got some mighty fine
cuts of beef hanging.
"I think I've had enough of my own cooking for
awhile," Gus laughed.
The little old man, halfway out of the cabin door,
paused for a moment and rubbed his chin. "Well, if you don't mind eatin'
country style, how about havin' supper with us?"
"Thanks, that's mighty nice of you, but I don't
want to butt in on a family meal."
"Ain't no family. Just Chris and me. Children all
married."
"Well, I'll do it on one condition, Mr..."
"Norton, Ed Norton."
"I'll do it under one condition, Mr. Norton," Gus
repeated, "and that's if you'll let me buy the steak - and make it a nice
big thick one."
Now Comes the Trouble
After some arguing, Ed Norton finally agreed, and
half an hour later Gus found himself seated at a large kitchen table facing
a slab of juicy porterhouse, country fried potatoes, fresh corn on the cob,
garden tomatoes and Ed and Clara Norton.
"Eddie," Clara said as the three sipped large cups
of coffee, "did you get the car fixed today?"
Ed Norton just looked down at his cup and
sheepishly shook his head.
"Oh dear," sighed Clara. "We'll never make it to
the hospital tomorrow. The way that car's been acting up we won't get more
than a few miles before something happens."
"Someone sick?" asked Gus.
"It's our youngest daughter," Mrs. Norton said,
visibly upset. "We have a brand new grandson, three days old now, and we
haven't been to see him yet. We'd planned going over tomorrow if the car
was fixed."
He Wasn't Going to Touch
a Car
Curiosity about the car plus the warm glow caused
by good food and pleasant people were fast breaking down Gus's firm resolve
to keep this trip strictly a vacation.
Finally he asked, "What seems to be the matter with
the car?"
"Blamed if I know, and blamed if I've been able to
find any mechanic around here who can tell me and fix it. She just won't
perk for more'n about 10 miles."
"Ten miles?" questioned Gus.
"Yup. Runs fine when you first start off, but
about 10 miles further on she just ups and dies like somebody reached down
and turned off the key."
"We've got to do something," said Clara.
"I promised Bess we'd visit her and the baby tomorrow,
and I aim to get there if I have to walk the 23 miles."
Gus Gives In
"Now hold on folks," Gus said with a grin. "Maybe
I can help out a bit."
The Nortons looked up in surprise.
"I hadn't planned to tinker with any cars on my
vacation, but it happens that that's my business. Let's go take a look."
Ed and Clara just stared.
Ed recovered enough to lead the way, and when the
two men reached the car Gus slid into the driver's seat and pushed the
starter button. The engine took hold easily.
"Now tell me," he said as he headed the car down
the road, "what's the story?"
"It started acting up a few weeks ago. I was
driving along when all of a sudden the engine just quit. Luckily I was on a
hill. I just let 'er roll to the first garage I came to. Man there said
the timing was probably off and messed around some. She started right up,
but then about 10 miles further along she just quit cold again."
"How did the engine act?" put in Gus as he eyed the
instruments on the dash.
Not Enough Gas?
"Acted like she wasn't getting' gas," said Ed
thoughtfully. "And that's what the man at the next garage thought too. He
put in a new fuel pump."
"Did that help any?" asked Gus.
"She started up without a fuss, just like before,
but she didn't purr for long after I got back out on the road. That time I
decided I'd go to one of the big service stations in town."
Gus was trying his best to listen to Ed with one
ear and to the engine with the other. "How'd you manage to coax her that
far?"
"Bout that time," Ed said, "I discovered she'd
start up again if I just let 'er set awhile.
Puzzlin', ain't it?"
Gus agreed with a nod.
"The fellows in town gave 'er the works. Said
they'd cleaned the air filter, put in a new condenser, checked the
carburetor and replaced the gas tank cap. Claimed the old one had a plugged
vent.
Right at that moment the engine gave out with a
gasping noise, caught on again and died. Gus glanced down at the
speedometer - they'd driven just 10.2 miles.
"What do you think, Mr. Wilson?"
Gus was smiling confidently. "From all the
symptoms, I'd say you had a vapor lock. You see, when the fuel gets too
hot, like when the engine heats up on a warm day, it begins to vaporize -
change from a liquid in a gas. The fuel can't reach the carburetor
properly, and the engine dies."
"I see," said Ed doubtfully.
Gus Makes a Mistake
Gus quickly lifted the hood and began running his
hand along the line leading to the carburetor. Then he straightened up.
"That's funny. The line isn't hot at all - not nearly
but enough to cause a lock."
Ed Norton sighed. "Well, I'm much obliged to you,
Mr. Wilson, for tryin', I've got some friends down the road a piece that'll
be glad to get out their pick-up truck and push us home."
Gus winced. He had been overconfident, like a
greenhorn grease monkey, and now the old man probably wouldn't believe he
could fix a kiddie car. "Hold on a minute, Ed. Let's give it another try."
The light was failing, and Gus had to work fast
now. Although he suspected that it might be dirt in the gas tank clogging
the fuel line or a carburetor jet, he decided to look for the simple things
first in the hope that a lucky hit might save time. So, with Ed watching,
he checked the distributor, the coil, and connections to the generator,
battery and ignition switch.
Hunch Pays Off
Drawing a complete blank at each, Gus was about to
start checking the carburetor when he remembered what Ed had said about the
new gas-tank cap. Quickly he walked to the rear of the car and began
twisting the cap to loosen it. Suddenly he stopped, stooped down, and
started moving his hand around underneath. Then he began wriggling his way
in under the car.
"I think maybe I've found your trouble Eddie," came
back Gus's muffled voice. "If you've got friends nearby, how about seein'
if they'll lend you a 10-inch square of sheet tin and some baling wire. And
borrow a pair of pliers, too, while you are about it."
Before long, Ed was back with the tin, wire and
pliers and handed them to Gus.
"There, I think that'll do it," Gus said when he
finally emerged from under the car. "Let's try her now.
The trip home was uneventful and Gus even insisted
on driving an extra five miles.
"What was it?" asked Ed.
Knew It All the Time
"Just like I thought," said Gus, trying to sound as
if he had known it all the time.
"Vapor lock. You had a hole rusted through the top
of your exhaust tailpipe, and it was spraying hot gases over the bottom of
the tank and the fuel line. The heat vaporized the gasoline in the fuel
line and caused a vapor lock. When you'd let her set awhile, the lock would
disappear."
"How'd you ever think of that?"
"I got my hunch when I decided to check that
gas-tank cap you said the boys in town put on. When I touched it, it was
warm. Then I felt the bottom of the gas tank and it was even warmer. That
gave me the tip-off to look for a rusted-through tailpipe."
"And you fixed it by wiring on a tin sleeve to
cover the hole?"
"Right, Eddie, but that's just a temporary repair,
I'd suggest you take your car into town Monday and put in a new tailpipe."
Gus Passes Up the Pie
When they pulled up in front of the motel office,
Clara was sitting patiently on the front porch. Ed hopped out of the car as
if he were jet-propelled. "Clara, the car's fixed, Mr. Wilson found the
trouble."
Clara Norton was overjoyed. "Mr. Wilson, I don't
know how to thank you."
"Well, we might at least invite him in for a wedge
of pie and a glass of milk," suggested Ed.
Gus wasn't one to turn down food very often, but an
idea had suddenly come to him. "Thanks a lot," he said appreciatively, "but
if you folks don't mind I think I'll turn in right now so I can be up
early. I want to try out this little lake of yours before I start headin'
for home. From the looks of those lily pads out there, I've a hunch I can
reel in a few pickerel. I'd like to catch something before I have to get
back to tending ailing cars again.
END
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