If you could call it that. Today, Hoban quit on me.
On the way to work, the Check Engine light came on, so of course when I stopped at work, I called my dada to seek wisdom. He said not to worry about it just yet, since I made it, and with that I went in to work.
Five hours later, as I’m getting ready to come home, my truck refuses to start. Turns over just fine, but nothing more. Dada came and fiddled with it. The diagnosis was mixed: we had fuel, we had spark, and we had compression (which he later explained were the most crucial components in a combustion engine), but we still weren’t starting. The fuel pump was on, but it just kept pumping, like it wasn’t building pressure.
A quick run to the store for a gas can, as I had none and his was elsewhere. While we were there, we also grabbed starter fluid, which is code for extremely flammable ether. Just in case.
Well, the gas didn’t help, like we doubted it would. But Dada loosened the air intake hose, sprayed some starter fluid in, and tcha-tcha-tcha-ZROOOM, Hoban started right up. We played with it for a while, then decided to risk driving home. Made it safely, and we’re going to hope that I’ll start tomorrow.
Dada gave me a quick one-two about the innards of my truck, but I don’t know how much I retained in the whole affair. I need to take notes.