'Twas the fuel pump that did her in.
Almost a month to the day and we fixed the broken truck! (https://steemit.com/life/@driptorchpress/ownership-of-broken-things)
Over the past two days I've completely emptied and cleaned our trailer, did several loads of laundry, organized some very irritatingly cluttered tools, and replaced a fuel filter.
That last one was no small feat. Thanks to some brilliant engineering, the fuel pump of our "trusty" Expedition is buried inside the fuel tank. With much wrenching (and a couple fuel soaked shirts) I managed to get the tank down and out.
Then came the fun part...
The same brilliant engineers (I assume) decided that a rusty piece of steel was needed to hold the pump in place. According to the Haynes manual one should use a special tool to get this off. Or... a brass tap and a hammer.
Why brass? "To prevent sparks."
I was not deterred! Armed with a hammer and very non-brass screwdriver I laid into it.
Thankfully no death occurred.
The ring popped off and the old pump was removed. Determined to make sure it was the pump that died, I plugged it in and had the wife turn the key just to see what happened.
Nothing!
Aha! It was the pump!
After running the same test with the new pump and finding it in working order, in went the new pump. With the same deadly hammer and screwdriver combination the ring was tapped back on.
Again, no death. I think those Haynes folks are a bit too cautious.
After the successful pump installation came lots of cussing and bruised knuckles as the tank was reattached to the dead truck.
Then: The Moment of Truth.
Sputter, sputter, give it some gas...
It's alive!!!
I have not been this happy in a long time. Not that I showed it. But you know, there was a moment where I danced a little on the inside. It was awesome.
This was going on... In the fuel tank... Eek.
And then I was thoroughly exhausted. The wife suggested that I do a manly thing and take a bubble bath and drink a little wine to celebrate.
So I did (minus the wine). Then to be really manly, I enjoyed a cigar and a Kentucky Mule (the only good kind of mule IMHO).
No shirt to boot. Oh so manly!
Not a bad way to end a day.
The best part of the experience was my very excited nine year old exclaiming "You fixed it! Now we can get out of the ugly house!"
She's looking forward to western adventures.
As am I.
