Sounds painful but really it wasn’t.
We were tootling along GA 121 when we encountered someone out for a Sunday drive on Saturday. Going 45 in a 60 zone is bad enough but then the speed decreased to 40. Time to do something!
Things don’t happen quickly in the Barge. Given our acceleration is usually furlongs per fortnight, I figured our passing distance was several miles.
When all was clear as far as I could see, I put the pedal to the metal and tried to attain Warp 8. And she shook her butt a moment, dropped into second and did exactly that. By the time I looked in the mirror there was a cloud of black smoke like an old F3 loco going uphill and no slow little car to be seen.
I was really surprised. This was no stately procession; this was 10 tons of a rocket ship.
Barge my ass.
We escaped! This morning at zero-dark-thirty we rousted ourselves out. Believe it or not someone in a white box truck was making deliveries to the Cummins shop at 3:20 a.m.!
So, got everything fixed, flushed and filled and we were out of there about 1 p.m. Of note is that Mom got a new pet cock. Says so right there on the repair ticket. The old petcock on the radiator leaked so they installed a new pet cock. Spelled exactly that way.
Mom’s happy to have a new pet cock.
Today was a doozy!
We came over to Cummins Power South in Tampa to have some engine work done, part maintenance and part repair. None a big deal and we’ve been running this way since we got The Barge, but not right is not right. Not being big fans of having to appear at the Cummins shop at zero-dark-thirty we took advantage of their Coach Care program and squatted here yesterday evening, plugged into their electricity and enjoyed their internet.
But they still rousted us out of The Barge at 0730. No customers are permitted to be in the shop during work hours.
So we sat in the waiting room. And sat in the waiting room. Then we walked down the street to Denny’s and had the famous “Carb Slam” and “Potato Skillet.” We waddled back to the waiting room and, well, waited. The Cummins guys were pretty good; just when we were about to explode someone would give us a progress report.
That last progress report was a bummer. They needed a part, the temperature sensor. They didn’t have one. They couldn’t find one in the entire City of Tampa. The closest one was in Daytona so we said, “Yes, please, get that thing here first thing in the morning so we can get out of Camp Parking Lot.”
A temperture sensor. A very common part. They go for $20-$30. But not for a 20-year-old engine.
To be continued…