And the preps go on.

I made up the title tis morning for saving some material I had written for a Home board. Now I’ve got to write something worthwhile, truthful, maybe even entertaining. Heaven forbid. Straight out of the chute I went to the shop much earlier than usual. Tom’s latest evening’s last he had told me he had Ugly running rather well and couldn’t make any fine touches because the carburetor as either dump, leaking, or flooding the engine. I want that carburetor all to myself along without somebody looking over my shoulder. Yup, I took it apart and immediately found the trouble, corrected the problem and put the metering device back together again. As I was finishing the carburetor Tom showed up. Between us I was he jinx. When I started the engine the cussed thing galloped from side to side like a galloping goose. There was no evening the engine out.
Distributor okay. Carburetor okay. With engine running, misting ether over the carburetor, engine didn’t rev up; Intake manifold gaskets okay. Tappet covers off, no valve clatter engine running the valve movements okay, Putting a gauge on the fuel pump pressure was 10 pounds strong okay, breaker bar on the crankshaft nut we had roughly 15* crank movement before the distributor turned wasn’t good. We spent most the rest of the day taking the front of the engine room and block front apart.
Myself wanting lunch somewhere around the noon hour I wanted to go home. My suggesting Tom to do the same he refused. I know my limits and needs and act accordingly. Even to the point of doing something with three loads laundry. From now on, I told Her Mostess, “Leave me and the laundry alone from now on!“ Well, Tom did well until it come to pulling the damper-pulley off and when it didn’t budge he finally went home. An hour and a half lunch, rested, I headed back to the shop. A quarter mile west Vassar Road half of the Cushman’s exhaust system fell off. Oh boy, that OMC engine has a pretty good bark. Ear numbing loud to boot. One and tree quarter mile west my home I pass an ambulance lights and siren blazing away. I’d learn it was for Tom. He’d just had another heart attack. I didn’t know a thing about it until sometime later this evening. At this moment Tom’s resting quietly in McClaren Hospital with two more stints in him. No visitors tomorrow and they’re keeping him two days.
Looks like I’ll have to put Ugly back together again all by myself. Poor Ugly’s welfare continues to be in jeopardy in real trouble now. BGKC.
Fernan