Gus Wilson
ducked from under a car hood and grabbed the ringing phone at the Model
Garage. The persuasive voice of Matt Edwards, director of the new
Vocational-Technical school came through the receiver.
"Gus, I've
got a problem, and I hope you can help me out."
Edwards
seldom called just to chat. Operating on a shoestring budget, he had become
adept at persuading local technical experts-including Gus-to serve as his
advisory board.
"Fire
away, Matt." Gus knew how badly the area needed youngsters with sound
post-high school auto-mechanics training, and was a staunch supporter of the
school.
"Your
monthly lecture is Thursday," Gus. "But I wonder if you'd come over this
morning? Our auto teacher is out sick today." Edwards paused. "I've been
trying to keep his class busy, but the truth is, I'm not enough of a
mechanic to fix an ailing Falcon. What they need is a Gus Wilson lesson in
troubleshooting."
"The car
belongs to one of the boys," Edwards went on, "and the group is counting
pretty heavily on taking it to Centerville this afternoon. They're
competing with the Vo-Tech school over there in a mechanical-proficiency
exercise. Incidentally, I hear young Bill Harvey is in trouble with the
police for faulty equipment on the Falcon, too. See what I mean about
needing your help, Gus?"
Gus
sighed, put on his jacket, and started out of the office. He met his
assistant, Stan Hicks, on the drive.
"Take over
awhile, Stan, I've got to take care of an investment."
"I didn't
even know he owned stocks," Stan muttered to himself, as he watched Gus
climb into the service truck.
Entering
the old factory building Edwards had converted into a school, Gus quickly
made his way toward the section devoted to the mechanical trades.
About six
pairs of assorted jeans showed beneath identical shop-coated figures crowded
around a fading but glistening Falcon. One of the boys was talking.
"If we
don't get smart quick, we'll not only be walking to Centerville-we'll lose
the contest sure, for being so dumb."
The boy,
Bill Harvey, broke into a broad grin as he looked up and saw Gus. Sweeping
back a shock of red hair, he extended a hand. "Mr. Edwards is flying around
here like a mother hen today. Said we could expect you over. And man, have
we got problems for you!"
Gus knew
the boys were allowed to work on their own cars in class if they bought the
parts. On the used Falcon he'd just bought, young Harvey told Gus, the
class had completely restored the ignition and fuel system using almost all
new parts.
"Needs
more than parts," Sam Archie said, looking up from the engine compartment.
"He's
right, Mr. Wilson," Bill Harvey said sadly. "It runs great in here, but on
the street it hasn't the power to pull the hat off your head."
"How about
your trouble with the law?" Gus asked.
"Oh, gosh,
yes. Two faulty equipment tickets in two days. Officer Corcoran says if I
don't get the stoplights on this thing working today, he'll make me go to a
garage and get it fixed."
"The crazy
thing is, they work fine in here." Lanky Sam Archie's Adam's apple
quivered. "We found blown fuses, and a sluggish pressure switch. We went
over everything with a circuit tester. Nobody home. This morning Bill blew
another fuse, got picked up, and still doesn't have any power."
"Will you
have a look at it? Bill urged."
"It's your
problem," answered Gus. "I'm here only as an adviser; you guys are the
mechanics. I'll offer a couple of thoughts, though. First off, I hope you
don't expect that little engine to win drag races. Secondly, fuses don't
blow without good cause, and a sticky stoplight switch is seldom the cause."
"I think
the biggest problem is Gus Wilson is afraid to dirty his hands!"
Gus
wheeled to see white-haired Matt Edwards grinning delightedly.
"Sometimes
a mechanic can earn his keep by listening and thinking," Gus said.
"Seriously, Gus, think you can help us? With the instructor off, and me
tied up this afternoon, we'll have to make some other arrangement to get the
boys to Centerville if they can't get the car fixed."
"Well,"
Gus said, "these boys are sharp and it sounds as if they've taken every
normal action. But I think it's about time to guide them in some logical
thinking that will isolate the troubles."
"That's
what they need," Matt said. "Nothing would make me happier than to see
these boys whip Centerville this afternoon. They'll have some tough
mechanical bugs to dope out, and they'll have to do it faster than the
Centerville Voc-Tech youngsters."
With Bill
at the wheel, Gus rode along as they took the Falcon for a test run. The
engine performed perfectly.
"Let's
take it on some rough streets and try the brakes a few times," Gus
suggested.
They
stopped on a quiet street, and Gus watched from behind as Bill repeatedly
applied the brakes. The stoplights glowed.
"I'll bet
you don't think we even have a problem," Bill said glumly.
"I think
we should assume that the two problems aren't related," Gus said. Let's go
back to the shop.
Pulling up
to the school building, Bill applied the parking brake and ran up the ramp
to open the overhead shop door.
Inside,
Gus directed the students to block the wheels, put on the brakes, rev the
engine, and try to stall it in high gear.
With Bill
at the controls, the little car strained at the blocks, labored bravely, and
finally stalled. "What does that prove," Mr. Wilson? he asked, cutting the
ignition.
"Well", he
said, "I think it proves what we found in test-driving it, it doesn't lack
power."
"So either
we're nutty, or... Bill hesitated. "I bet I know-the air cleaner!"
"Right,"
Gus said, grinning.
"We've
been running around here and on the test drive without an air cleaner."
"Can't
be," Sam Archie argued. "I cleaned it and it wouldn't make any difference,
on or off."
"Put it on
and see," Gus said.
"I'll do
it," Sam offered. "I'm the air cleaner expert here." In no time he was
calling, "okay."
Bill hit
the starter. The boys watched closely. As the engine started to rev, it
starved, faltered, and starved again.
Sam's face
turned red. "How stupid can a guy get?" he moaned.
"That's
your trouble all right," Gus said. "Want to explain it to the class, Sam?"
I guess
I've been putting the air cleaner on wrong," Sam said shamefacedly. "The
rush of air on acceleration was sucking the antifreeze tag over the intake
horn. I guess I must have put it on wrong each time I replaced it."
"Don't
feel too bad," Gus said. "When things go according to the book a mechanic's
job is easy. In troubleshooting a job like this, you may have to duplicate
every condition that existed when the problem occurred."
"Does that
hold true for the fuse and stoplight problem too?" Bill asked.
"Could
be. You fellows have established the result: blown fuses. You know it's in
the stoplight circuit, and you've done the diagnosis work. What do you
think?"
"Beats
me," said Bill. You checked when we made the test runs. Stoplights worked
fine. It only happens when I drive it to school."
"Well,
what are you doing differently?" asked Gus.
"Gee, I
don't know. I back it out of the garage, close the door, and come to
school, that's all."
Gus
glanced at his watch. They'd have to do something pretty quick if the boys
were to make it to the afternoon contest.
"Take it
for a spin and see what happens," he said.
Bill
backed out of the stall. Gus noted that the brake lights did not go on as
Bill braked to wait for the door to open.
"Brake
lights don't work!" Gus shouted.
"But they
worked when we checked."
"Somehow,"
Gus said, "we've duplicated the conditions. You say you have to stop, then
close the door at home."
"What
difference does that make? I stop, put on the parking brake, close the
door, and go. Besides," Bill added, "the parking brake isn't electrical."
"Granted."
Gus stoked his pipe. "But if I remember correctly, the parking brake is
pretty close to a lot of the wiring under the dash of a Falcon. You don't
suppose..."
"I'm not
supposing. I'm looking. Pull the brake for me, Sam." Bill was on his back
under the dash.
"Well I'll
be darned!" Bill came up.
"There's a
loose wire across the parking brake housing. It gets hooked by a screw that
guides the parking-brake lever shaft in the slotted housing tube. It pulls
the wire taut when the brake is applied, and it cut through the insulation."
Sam spoke
up. "So nothing happens until you apply the foot brake with the parking
brake on. Then you get a dead short, and the fuse blows. Right, Mr.
Wilson?"
"That's
the way it looks. Probably didn't find it on the trial runs before because
you guys are so helpful that Bill didn't have to stop and close the door."
"Speaking
about being helpful," Bill said, eyes narrowed, "which one of you fatheads
put that new tag on when we changed antifreeze yesterday?"
"Hold on,"
Gus said. "Let's nail down just how we went at these problems. It may help
you this afternoon."
Gus was at
his desk poring over the day's bookwork when the phone rang. Matt Edward's
voice came on. "Wanted to thank you for substitute-teaching today, Gus.
And get this. Our boys won the contest. Just be a hair, you understand,
but they're learning. Also, about that lecture of yours next Thursday-"
"Next
Thursday?" Gus murmured weakly. "But I thought-"
"Thought
what, Professor? You know you have a lecture the first Thursday of every
month!"
END
