It is done. Well, certainly not done in the sense of nothing more to do,
but done in the sense that Chris and his TR4A, Sarah, are rumbling across
the desert to Wendover even as I type this, having left The Fat Chance Garage
about half an hour ago, echos of the roarty note of the newly installed Monza
system have barely died down.
Chris was hoping to have been back home in California by now, but we had some
troubles. We only had two monkees[*], and with the Jazz basketball playoffs
there was not a football to be found. [Those of you who need an explanation
ask Scott Fisher about it!]
But we did manage to get the lion's share of the work done, including the
welding of the clutch pedal, a new master and line, and a few other bits.
And just around 10pm we managed to take Sarah for the road test to Squatters
for our lunch break. She runs and sounds MUCH better now than at thursday
afternoon's arrival.
Yes, we managed to spend the entire memorial day weekend doing nothing but
playing with cars and drinking beer. I did learn something, though. The
difference between Heaven and Hell is more subtle than my grade school nuns
would have me believe.
mjb.
*: Steve Bender stopped by to check on the fuel pump swap I was going to do
on his green 4A this weekend. And he made it just in time, saving us from
some "exhaustive" work. Maybe someday I'll confess, but for now a mug of
homebrew and a decent night's sleep.
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