The morning’s Sun at least put a sparkle on all our water puddles, seas of Spring mud, and a bit-a glitter upon the barnyard creek. And instead of projected promises of fair weather, the forecast is calling for a week’s worth of rain. The poor cattle are putting up with Mother Natures yearly warming blessing’s treading mud, the calves near struggling to keep their heads and belly’s out and above the same stirred mud theirs mothers continue making whole ares of the yards and pasture pieces looking like turned sod. The daily task it has become moving new born calves and their mother’s down the road to sandier soil drier earth accommodations.
As for my present primary mechanical problem I devoted my time to the shop locked up Cushman Truckster. Unable to start the ¼ ton beast for failure the gasoline getting to the engine I took to checking out the engine’s supporting works. Fuel filter and pump working I added a fuel pressure regulator. Thought was perhaps to much gasoline going unburned had washed down the cylinder walls causing loss of compression. Took the carburetor apart, aired out all the passages, checked float level, all looked good and correct. So put it back together. Nothing to fix all was set for start up.
Before I attempted starting the engine over attempted fixing some carburetor issues, finding none I made an improvement’s change involving the professional appearance and positive workability over the maturing finish to the changes made on the steering column mounting.
Now it were time to turn engine over and hear it Spring into life. Nothing happened, even trying priming the air cleaner.
Becoming disgusted, being more than dinner time, thoughts of sticking a firecracker in the carburetor, (no room enough for dynamite) I succumbed to my belly’s need for renewed energy. Cushman book in hand I come home.
After lunch I tested the truth in my thoughts and found dry compression at 170#s, adding a couple squirts oil the compression jumped into the 190#’s. Wasn’t anything wrong with rings, pistons and rings. Next I got into the timing. Maybe I’d originally done it wrong. Unbelievable. Checking it I might have it wrong. Well maybe. This required more thought. Spending some time putting things back together: spark plugs back in, generator back on, about to do something else most likely wrong if I thought to long on it… Tom had set down and just sitting there old Eagle eye spotted a problem. Bless his heart! One of the intake manifold pipes had lost their nuts and washers leaving the intake gasket to disambiguate. Ah ha, that would do it The engine had been sucking free air rather than a gasoline-air mixture. Making a phone call it was a now or never run into town. I had fifteen minutes to make it to parts store before the next do-it chance come the Monday after Easter Sunday.
Back, I cut out a new gasket and bolted the manifold tight to the cylinder jug. It were long past rattler time, time to rattle my bones home.
Another calf I the mud, this cow-calf pair, we all joined in moving it’s family unit into the barn’s adjacent yard. Then I moved the hay rings back out beyond the mud in the last muddied field, and delivered them hay. Then we all joined forces and moved what was left of the diminishing heard back out on the near western pasture. You got Mud?