Whatever Works – Water in the Gasoline

I had some fun yesterday! My tutoring job was canceled because my student had testing, instead, so I made use of the time by making a run to town.

Or trying to make a run to town.

I got as far as the discount store and my Ford truck wouldn’t go. If I tried to let it idle, it sounded like a Ford tractor, instead. Are tractors only 2-cylinder? Let’s just say it was missing a bit. And it would die, not idle.

This truck is really new — still under warranty.

I’m no race car driver, but somehow I managed to manipulate the gas, gears, and brakes enough to get the thing across the street to our favorite tire guy. We don’t have any engine-repair places, and this guy knows all anyone needs to know, anyway.

Of course, being in the tire business, he has no diagnostic computers for engines, but never mind. Even his young assistant knew what the procedure should be. As our tire friend sat in the cab of my truck and manipulated the keys in the ignition, the young assistant ducked, unbidden, under the truck to listen.

Then our friend asked, “Do you hear it humming?”

The young assistant nodded “yes.”

Whatever that was about, it was not about tires. I felt myself in good hands.

However, this first responder triage diagnosis was: water in the gas. As I tried to remember aloud where we had recently bought gas, he kept saying, “I buy gas there all the time. That shouldn’t be a problem place to get it.” He said ‘sorry’ and he couldn’t really help me, that I should take it to the dealership, but I was welcome to park in his lot.

I’m so thankful for small-town friendliness!

I called hubs and he said to bring it on home after I got groceries.

I was scared.

But I did it.

I don’t know how.

It kept wanting to die when it coasted down hill. If I did not keep it revved, it chugged and jerked a lot, as if I were just learning to drive a manual shift. It kept trying to die whenever it idled, and succeeded a couple of times, so I prayed a lot for clear intersections so I would not have to come to a full stop. I hardly had any brakes, anyway, as they were power brakes and there was not much power, or something.

I slipped through several stop signs with a promise to stop twice next time.

Although the speed limit going home is 55 mph, I kept it to 40 or so, except for downhill, since I had to give it gas at all times to keep it from dying.

It was a very blessed feeling finally to arrive home and coast the last 50 yards, since it had died but we have a parking spot that is downhill from the road.

And I’ve thought of another way you can get you some momentum:

Keep your nutrition up or else you’ll be: