No matter how busy a day he has ahead, Gus
Wilson tries to start it slowly. He takes his time eating a he-man
breakfast, and when he gets to his Model Garage shop he begins operations by
doing some easy job before he tackles a hard one.
"It's common sense," he
says when we kid him. "If you
want an automobile engine to
work right and last a long
time, you don't drive it hard
before it gets warmed up.
It's the same way with human
machinery. If you start easy
in the morning, it'll do more
work for you before
night-that's been my
experience, anyhow."
But the morning that old
Silas Barnstable picked to put
up a squawk about the
statement Joe Clark had mailed
to him, Gus didn't get a
chance to start slowly. When
he got down to the shop he
found Doc Marvin waiting with
a job he wanted done quickly
because he had to get out in
the country to attend a sick
kid. It was bothersome,
dirty, hard-to-get-at job, and
when Doc drove away Gus's
normally good temper was
wearing thin at the edges.
Then Silas came in, looking
even more like a bantam
rooster than usual. He's our
town's most notorious
skinflint-a dried-up little
ex-farmer who sold off his
rocky acres for suburban
building lots during a boom 20
years or so ago.
Silas smacked the bill down
on Gus's workbench, "I won't
pay it!" he snarled. "It's
robbery!" "Jes' because a
body's been foresighted enough
to lay by a few dollars ain't
any reason he should be
cheated right and left."
"You've got to shade that bill
down, Gus Wilson, or I'll
never give your shop another
job!"
If Gus had been in his
usual good humor, he would
have grinned tolerantly at the
old crab, kidded him a little,
and soon made him admit there
wasn't anything wrong with the
bill. But he wasn't in his
usual good humor, and his
temper slipped the leash.
"I'm sick and tired of
hearing you yap about every
bill Joe Clark sent you!" he
snapped. "If you never come
in here again It'll be soon
enough to suit me.
For a moment old Silas
thought Gus was fooling. When
he saw that he wasn't, he
started to say something,
thought better of it, snatched
the bill up off the workbench,
and stalked out with his
skinny little back as stiff as
a ramrod.
Gus watched him go and he
began to feel sorry. He
hesitated a moment, and then
started for the door. But
before he got to it, an engine
took off outside, and Silas's
sedan shot out of the drive
and headed up the highway. Gus
stared after him.
"Now," he asked himself,
"what the dickens made me boil
over? That's what comes of
breaking my rule to start slow
and easy in the morning.
Well, it's nothing to worry
about-he'll be back in a week
or so, ornery as ever.
But weeks added up to a
month and more before Gus saw
Silas again. Then it wasn't
in the Model Garage, but
downtown as he was going into
the Park House for the weekly
Kiwanis luncheon. He noticed
steam clouding out of the
radiator of Silas's sedan,
which was parked at the curb,
and then saw Silas hurrying
across the sidewalk with a
pail of water and an anxious
look.
Gus walked over, "Hello,
Silas," he said cheerfully.
"Want a hand?"
Silas looked at him as if
he'd never seen him before.
Then he poured the water into
the radiator, replaced the
cap, tossed the pail into the
back of his sedan, climbed
stiffly into the driver's
seat, slammed the door after
him, and drove away.
Gus's face turned red.
Policeman Jim Devine, who had
been watching, grinned widely,
"The old rooster's sure got
his ax out for you, Gus," he
said. "He's telling everyone
you overcharged him and then
insulted him when he kicked,
and that he's off you for
life. Of course, nobody pays
any attention to him, but-."
Gus grunted and went into the
Park House. He didn't enjoy
his lunch that day.
One afternoon a couple of
weeks later, Joe Clark came
into the shop looking peeved.
"That fellow Brindley's on the
phone," he told Gus. "Says he
can't find out what's the
matter with a job he has in
his place, but he knows you
can, and he wants to bring it
over. The nerve of him!
What'll I say-that you're too
busy?"
Brindley is a young chap
with a medical discharge from
the Marines. He has opened a
neighborhood garage on the
other side of town from Gus
and Joe's place.
"Tell him to bring it
along, of course," Gus
replied. "I'm busy-but not so
busy I can't take time to give
a hand to a kid who's trying
to get started."
"Now, look here, Gus," Joe
said earnestly. "There's a
limit to good nature! I
haven't kicked-much-about you
telling a lot of fellows how
to do jobs they ought to bring
to us. But, when it comes to
helping an out-and-out
competitor-."
Gus grinned. "We're
turning down work every day
because we can't handle it.
And as for helping young
Brindley, well, it seems to me
that he was helping us when he
got himself shot up on
Guadalcanal."
Joe went back to the office
growling, but half an hour
later Brindley drove in a
sedan that Gus recognized at
once as Silas Barnstable's.
Its radiator was steaming.
Brindley was embarrassed,
"I'll bet you think I've got a
nerve, Mr. Wilson," he said.
"and I guess I have. But
you're the top man on car
troubles around here, and I
thought maybe you'd help me
out. I told the man who owns
this car that I could fix it,
and now I can't even find out
what's the matter with it!"
"We all got 'em that way
once in a while," Gus said.
"The radiator's boiling-no
doubt about that, anyway.
Suppose you tell me what
you've done." "Sure,"
Brindley said. There was
relief in his voice, but an
undertone of embarrassment,
too. "there was quite a lot of
work done before the owner
brought the car to me. When
the boiling started, he took
the bus to a big shop down in
the city. They checked the
spark and valve timing. When
they couldn't find anything
wrong there, they thought that
maybe the overheating was
being caused by too lean a
mixture so they had their
carburetor expert check the
intermediate and high-speed
jets. They were all right,
too, so they sent the radiator
to a radiator specialist to
have it boiled, and then they
pressure-cleaned the entire
cooling system with live steam
to get rid of all the inside
scale. They charged a good
high price for the job, and
when the radiator began to
boil again a couple of days
later, the owner really popped
off.
"Someone told him about my
place, and he brought the car
in." "When I took the engine
head off and found several of
the valves burned, I figured
they were causing the
overheating and that
regrinding would cure it." "
But after the valve job, the
radiator was boiling as bad as
ever."
"O.K.," Gus said, "I'll
have a look." He got in and
started the engine. "What
clearance did you give the
valves?"
Brindley snapped his
fingers. "I am dumb" he said
"I clean forgot to tell you
that two of the valves were
burned so badly I had to
replace them."
Gus switched off the
engine, "You did?" he said.
"How about the spark
plugs?" "Pretty well
burned," Brindley said.
Gus got out of the car and
called: "Stan! Get me the
vacuum gauge!" When the
grease monkey brought the
gauge, Gus attached it to the
intake manifold at the
windshield-wiper connection,
started the engine, and let it
idle. He saw the gauge read
16," "Not very high," he
commented. "Take the muffler
off, Stan."
Gus got back into Silas's
car after Stan had finished.
This time the engine took off
with a roar. He throttled it
down to idling speed, got out,
and looked at the vacuum
gauge, which now showed 20."
"I thought so," Gus said.
"Switch her off, will you
Brindley?" Your troubles are
over-or they will be when you
install a new muffler and
collect your bill."
Brindley showed
astonishment. "What you say
is good enough for me, of
course-but I don't get it.
What's the muffler got to do
with the radiator boiling-and
how can you tell, without even
lifting the hood, what caused
the trouble?"
Gus grinned. "Oh, it's just
a matter of adding one thing
to another and getting a
sensible answer. That's where
experience comes in-and
experience is something a
mechanic picks up as he goes
along.
"To start with, every car
cooling system is designed to
handle just so much heat, and
not much more. When the
engine generates more heat
than the system can dissipate,
the radiator boils. "I know
from what you told me about
the work that had been done
before the car was brought to
you that the radiator couldn't
be clogged and that the timing
hadn't gone haywire. When you
told me that the valves were
burned so badly you had to
replace two of them and that
the spark plugs were burned, I
knew that the extreme heat
from burning gases around the
valve and valve ports wasn't
being carried away quickly
enough. The most likely cause
of that is backpressure in the
exhaust system caused by a
restriction in the muffler.
When the gauge registered 16"
of vacuum with the muffler on
and 20" with it off, it showed
that the muffler caused the
overheating. Let's look."
Gus got the muffler and
opened it. It was almost full
of scale and corrosion,
"There," he said. "Put on a
new muffler, and you won't
have any more trouble."
"Say, that's remarkable,"
Brindley exclaimed. "Well,
now-what do I owe?"
Gus laughed, "Forget it.
Some day you'll give me a lift."
The ex-Marine hesitated;
then he said: "There's
something I ought to tell
you. The man who brought this
car to me was customer of
yours."
Gus laughed again. "I
never forget a car," he said.
"Do me a favor-don't tell the
old grouch I had anything to
do with it."
Two weeks later Gus looked
up from his workbench and saw
Silas Barnstable standing
beside him. Well," he asked
uncordially, "what do you
want?"
"Want to pay my bill,"
Silas told him, fishing it and
a check out of his pocket.
"You're in the wrong
department," Gus retorted, "Go
see Joe Clark."
"No reason to snap a
feller's head off!" Silas
complained. "Look here, Gus-I
got it out of that young
Brindley that you fixed my car
up when nobody else could.
Let's forget and forgive."
"Oh, all right-all right,"
Gus said.
Silas appeared relieved.
Then he got a worried look.
"That don't mean that I'm goin'
to put up with any
overcharges, jes' because a
man's laid by-" "Scram!"
Gus grunted. "I'm busy!"
END
