Did I Do That?
It's strange, but I'm the only one in my family so infatuated with musclecars. To this day, we still question how it became such a vital part of my life. Not a problem-until you realize that everything I learned about engines, tuning, and driving is a product of trial and error.
While I don't want to admit it, at 16, my first musclecar was a mid-'60s blue-oval variant. Don't worry, I won't get too crazy with the details, just that it had a V-8, a carburetor that was entirely too big, and a rowdy dual exhaust system that caused my neighbors to label me the local pain in the ass.
You'd think I was headed in the right direction as a young gearhead, right? Not necessarily. I remember the first time I decided it was time to add tranny fluid. I had no idea why, the tranny was shifting fine, but as far as I was concerned it needed another quart. Oh, and never mind the fact I had no idea where it went. A friend told me that the fill tube was on the passenger side. Well, I didn't see anything, except the oil breather. I knew the oil went in the driver-side breather, and while in the back of my mind I knew something wasn't right, I proceeded to pour away. Proud of my accomplishment, I fired up the engine, only to see the oil pressure gauge showing a major drop in pressure. Uh-oh-yeah, I screwed up big time. Fortunately, I caught it, and three oil changes later it was fine.
How about this one: Even though the car ran perfectly fine I was constantly toying with the timing. I honestly don't know why; it was just something I felt compelled to do. One day, I recalled someone telling me to adjust the timing with the car in Drive. OK, common sense should have prevailed, and I should have realized that it wouldn't be such a good idea. Nope. Instead, I pulled the parking brake, dropped it into gear, and pointed the timing light from the driver side of the engine bay. Of course, my short-term memory escaped me, and immediately after setting the timing I revved the engine at the carburetor. That's right, the car lunged forward, rolled over my left foot, and pinned me to the ground. For a brief second, it wasn't about whether or not I was hurt-it was about making sure no one saw what had just happened. After assessing the situation, I frantically pulled at my leg, trying to get my foot from under the wheel. Once I managed to get up off the ground, I took one last look and all was good-no one was around to point and laugh.
Yeah, I'm not proud, but I learned from my mishaps. I could tell you more, but that'll be for another rainy day. What about yourself? Have a funny episode to share? I'm sure you do, and I definitely want to hear it. Fire up the computer and e-mail me. If it makes us laugh, you better believe it'll show up in a future issue.