Sue, across from us was wringing her hands. Her daughter’s old Blazer 4 x 4, now derelict and since replaced by a newer ride, died and has been stationary in the driveway for weeks. The cost to tow and repair said beater would likely exceed its residual worth. She cranked the worn V-6 which sputtered but spewed raw fuel from a split in cracked and rotted fuel hose line. Sue asked if it’s okay to drive and I replied yeah — so long as nobody flicks a cigarette butt your way at an intersection stop light 😉 Do you feel lucky? (said with Clint Eastwood impersonation). I knew it would be an easy fix. But I kept that to myself, not keen on making a parts run to the Pep Boys nor crawling under the belly of the beast for a guaranteed dowsing of fuel. We discussed scenarios and I walked (ran) away.

By the end of the day, however, S’man and I rose to the challenge and had it fixed. It became a father and son project. Conveniently, a section of NOS fuel line from a previous repair was discovered in my garage. My idea was that he’d do the work and I’d supervise. The job required cutting out the old fuel filter with exacto, screw driver, clamps, and a flash light. A third hand (mine) was used to plug the dike while splicing in two new hose sections. Very low hassle factor, as it turns out, but I was right about the other. We both totally reek of gas.

No mind. The fumes will dissipate in a few days. Sue and her daughter loaded us up with praise, gratitude, admiration, and some leftover baked lasagna dinner.