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 It was like buzzards circling a body.
The Jones kid, Randy, was out in the Mule Barn parking lot with the
hood up on his car. He was staring down into it the way a first-time
parachutist would look out the airplane door. You never quite knew
for sure what lay ahead.
“Looks like Randy’s got problems,” said Steve.
“Let’s have a look,” said Dud.
So coffee was left to get cold and the entire Supreme Court of All
Things Mechanical – Steve, Dud, Doc, Herb and Dewey – trooped out to
see what was going on.
They formed a powerful semi-circle of wisdom around the youth and
his engine with folded arms and facial expressions that said, “It’s
okay, Kid. We’re here.”
Dewey spoke first. “Having trouble, Randy?”
“Won’t start.”
Doc, who has the most initials after his name, said, “Give it a
try.” Randy ground the engine, but it
wouldn’t kick over.
“Stop! Stop!” Doc yelled. “Don’t want to flood it.”
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column] |
All Doc knows about flooding is
that the animals went on board, two by two.
“Randy, I think it’s the
solenoid,” said Steve, looking wise.
“Doesn’t have one, Steve,” Randy said.
“Sure it does. All cars have solenoids.”
“Not the new ones. Haven’t made solenoids in years.”
Steve’s expression said, “Young punks, what do they know?” But his
voice said, “Well, what do you know about that?”
“Need a jump?” Dewey asked.
“Got plenty of spark,” Randy said.
Randy looked at the older men and then bent to the engine and
smiled. His voice came floating up over the radiator. “Might be the
junction fibrillator. Or it could be a malfunction of the Johnson
switch. If I rerun the wire from the organ housing to the pump
by-pass, that might get it done.”
When Randy looked up, all the men had gone back in for coffee. He
smiled and called Triple A on his cell phone.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to you by Ol’
Max Evans, the First Thousand Years, by Slim Randles. Available from
unmpress.com.
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