The Road from Pismo. Part 2

The road from Pismo, or should I say the Road from Hell?!? Half way home, the bago is starting to sound a little wonky; like the engine is not happy with the amount of starting fluid we have to give it on a regular basis. The low power on the uphills and the top speed of 60 is telling me this could be a long stressful trip home. I'm trying not to show fear to April, but we're only an hour into our 3 and a half hour trip home and our backup is still in Pismo.

Potty breaks are forbidden as I grip the steering wheel with sweaty hands and an unblinking gaze. Whats that you say, the dogs need to pee? Not on my watch, slap a diaper on those butts; we're not stopping. April can sense my tension and Logan is snoozing so far. If we can make it to a gas station I tell myself, then I at least have access to resources.

We're getting closer to town, in fact we are slowing for a stoplight in front of a gas station. As I come to a stop, the bago decides she's had enough and dies on me. The beads of sweat and dry mouth has me second guessing not attending church on a regular enough basis. I quickly ask for forgiveness and proceed to start her back up with some starting fluid and keep the throttle high. I think the wheels chirped a bit as we lurched off the line and then turned towards the gas station. I bounce over the curb and align the nose to the closest pumps. Before I can even apply the breaks she dies and we coast into position. We're lucky it's the middle of nowhere because the work is about to begin and we'll be parked for a while.

De-greased Carter Carb circa 1973

I go through the fill up, the fluid top off and wire and hose check. No loose connections, no leaks. What is the root cause? It's got fire cause it starts. Its got fuel because I just filled it up. The low idle death rattle tells me I better check the carb. I search some you tube videos for low idle adjustment and crank that puppy up high. I don't have access to fuel pumps or fuel filters, so this is the best I can do until I can park and wait for the Summit catalog to arrive. And now the real fun begins...

Even has an electric choke

Like to wear American Flag jump suits, run stop signs and jump curbs in a 10,000 pound apartment on wheels? Then you've come to the right place. The prayers are about to pay off; we're not stopping unless they're in the crosswalk or the the law is within sight. We're slowing for yellows a mile out and coasting until the last second. Several lights I am able to time just right and my refusal to let the bago die coincides with green lights. I use this technique all the way through Bakersfield, Porterville and to the main streets of Springville. My parent's drive way is a 90 degree turn off of highway 190, which requires a slow and cautious turn and ascension. Not this Evil Kenevil; not when I've risked the lives of my family and two wiener dogs. We're gonna gun a 90 degree turn at a 35 degree incline. I steer wide right and make a hard left, full throttle. The rest is a blur because all I can think about is the bago dying and rolling helplessly backwards into highway 190. Some how we make it to the top of the hill and after talking myself into it, parking it back on the landing half way back down the hill. It's time for some serious engine work. Stay turned for the next episode....