At 5:45 this morning, I went outside to clear my driveway so my daughter could get to the clinic and take care of a four-legged patient.
I opened the garage, started The Beast and cleared about 4 feet of snow before the machine died. I restarted and once again. cleared about 4 feet before it died.
Since my driveway as at least 70 feet long and 30 feet wide, I figured doing it this way was going to take most of the day. I bit the bullet, grabbed my shovel and headed down to the end where the plow had created a 2 foot high bank of snow.
I got the snow bank cleared as well as 10 feet of the end of the driveway and I was able to move my daughters car down to that cleared area. She was then able to back out and head to the clinic without any issues.
At this point, my back was killing me, my arms & hands were on fire and I was beginning to think to myself, "Huh. This must be how you feel just before you have a heart attack."
Since my daughter was on her way to work and neither my wife nor myself had any place we needed to be, I decided to take a break, rest for a few minutes and then try to figure out what was wrong with The Beast.
To recap, the machine ran fine for about a 10 seconds then it died from fuel starvation. My first thought was a clogged fuel line. I removed the tin that covered the carburetor, disconnected all the thing-a-ma-bobs, widgets, geegaws and whatchamacallits. I also pulled the gas tank and drained it of fuel.
The fuel line seemed fine and aside from a little stickiness with the governor, the carb seemed fine as well. All the jets were clear, the choke plate moved freely and gas was getting into the float bowl. I put a little water displacement formula #40 on the governor linkage as well as the throttle linkage because I'm a firm believer in the old saying, "If it moves and it's not supposed to, use duct tape. If it's supposed to move and it doesn't, use WD-40".
I poured a little fuel into the fuel line and started the engine. It ran fine for at least a minute. I put the tank back on, attached the fuel line, put all the stuff back on the carburetor, filled the tank with fuel and started it up.
It ran for almost 10 minutes before it died.
I primed it, pulled the starter cord and it ran for about 10 seconds. I primed it, pulled the starter cord and it ran for about 10 seconds. I pushed it back into the garage and grabbed the shovel.
As I was shovelling, thinking about how I was probably going to have a heart attack, I was also thinking about The Beast's symptoms. When I took it apart and then put it back together, it ran for 10 minutes. Then, each time I restarted it, it went back to running for 10 seconds. What would cause it to run for 10 minutes and then run for 10 seconds....
This is where the genius part comes in: I realized that in order for fuel to exit the tank, air must be able to get into the tank. If air can't get into the tank, gas can't get out. I loosened the gas cap, started the machine and it ran fine for the rest of the morning. I was able to finish my driveway, my back patio and a large portion of The Small Dogs back yard.
This is where the moron part comes in: I took most of the engine components apart, including the fuel tank, I managed to spill gasoline all over myself and my garage, I think I got frostbite on my fingers from the cold and I wasted at least two hours of my day doing that. All of that and really all I needed to do was to loosen the gas cap.
Speaking of The Small Dog...
I cleared a pretty good chunk of the back yard for her because I figured no one, including a dog, wants to stick their butt into the snow to pee.
She runs out the dog door, scampers across the cleared area and runs directly into the snow where she promptly stops, drops and pees.
Why do I bother...
My back still hurts but my arms & hands are doing much better.
While I groan each time I get off my couch, you can click on these links:
- One of the big problems with the internet is that it gives a loud voice to conspiracy theory nutjobs.
- This is better than finding a snake in your Christmas tree.
- I just discovered that Roswell, New Mexico, home of many crazy people who are looking for aliens, has a online police log. This could get interesting.
- If you go to another country, follow their laws or pay the price. It doesn't matter how blonde, young, arrogant or selfish you are, they don't care.
- That's nothing. Before the boy scouts took over in the 1980's, we drank in the office.
- It appears that David Werking has never heard of the internet.
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