The Loneliest Liberal: Speed, in numerous forms

By James Knudsen

If I were to recount my travels since the beginning of this month, you would probably expect a high-minded tale of theatre and ivory-towered academia. But this is going to be me. The end of the school year means that educators get time off and college students come home for the summer. My fiancée, Melany, her daughter Chloe, and I know that the first order of business at the end of the school year is to retrieve elder daughter Sophie from Southern Oregon University in Ashland, Oregon. There is also the matter of her stuff, which arrived there back in September courtesy of my Chrysler mini-van. However, said mini-van was procured by sister, Morissa, in late May to haul some of her stuff to Bainbridge Island, Washington. Hmmm.
    No problem. Melany and Chloe prefer flying to driving. So, we fly from Fresno to Ashland, via LAX, attend Sophie’s end-of-year choir recital, and, next day, I fly to Seattle, retrieve mini-van, visit with family, drive back to Ashland, load mini-van, and then Melany and girls fly back to Fresno and drive her car home. What could go wrong? I still don’t know. What I do know is that we boarded a plane in Fresno, and then we deplaned in Fresno. We again boarded in Fresno and again deplaned in Fresno. The plane never left the ground. It is now the evening of June 8th, there are no flights leaving for some time, but we still have a 2002 Nissan Pathfinder, and I have a bottle of prescription amphetamines. We arrive at the Stratford Inn in Ashland, Oregon, on June 9th, at 0415 hrs. Adderall, ask for it by name.
    The flight cancellation had something to do with a system/company-wide navigation software glitch that sounded to many travelers like hacking by a hostile country. We know it wasn’t Russia, because President Trump called Vladimir Putin, and Putin said, “Nyet.” He also said, “You’re welcome.”

There is another kind of speed. The kind that filled my teen years. It is addictive, regulated by the government, and some wish it banned and relegated to the scrap pile of history. And I revisited this speed, briefly while on Bainbridge Island. Sister Morissa, in addition to her Harley-Davidson, also owns a 1978 Chevrolet Camaro. Her late husband, Gary Smith, assembled the engine using the speed-shop add-ons that backyard tuners have favored for decades: high-rise, aluminum intake manifold, four-barrel carburetor, tube exhaust headers, and high-lift camshaft. For the past few years the car has been sitting idle, not idling, under a car cover, battery dead.

    My interest in automobiles is part of the public record. An associate of arts degree in Automotive Technology from Santa Monica College is proof, but several years ago I made a very conscious and deliberate decision that working on cars was just not something I was interested in doing anymore. I made this informed decision while changing the clutch on a Fiat X1/9. Again. But getting the Camaro running wasn’t my idea, and I would merely assist. As mentioned in the first part of this piece, part of going to Washington involved seeing family. While on Bainbridge Island, I stayed with my other sister, Claire, in her recently purchased home less than a mile from Morissa’s house. Also in town was Morissa’s son, Chris (who at this moment is on Bristol Bay, Alaska, pulling salmon from the water). He takes the lead on car repairs. Why? Because he’s a better mechanic than I am, a much better mechanic. I will take credit for one aspect of his skill. As a young man, he saw me struggling with that Fiat and heard me use every curse I learned in Catholic grade school. And I probably threw the odd tool, which he would have seen too. He doesn’t do that. He is the model of calm, measured activity that gets the job done and the car repaired without drama or histrionics.
    The carburetor is where Chris turned his attention. Now, I just said that Chris is a better mechanic, and I stand by that, but he is of a generation that doesn’t have much experience with the archaic, fuel-metering device that was the idol of my youth, the four-barrel carburetor. Chris was born in 1987, and the last cars sold with a carburetor were built in the early nineties. Ask a young person what “pump twice and crank” means. They’re going to look at you funny.

    We pulled – Chris pulled the carburetor off of the engine and I went to the hardware store to buy some carburetor cleaner. He removed the air horn and found the fuel bowls dry and sediment that resembled hard water deposits at the bottom of the bowls. Carb cleaner, sprayed liberally, removed the carbon deposits and confirmed that the fuel jets were free of debris and not gummed up by old gasoline. I did provide some help eventually. I noticed that the idle screws – there are two on a four-barrel – were not threaded into the base of the carb evenly. So, after removing and cleaning them, I performed the operation I learned around the time Chris was born. Install the idle screw until it’s fully seated, then three turns counter-clockwise. Repeat with the other idle screw.
    With the carburetor reinstalled and a fresh battery – “borrowed” from Morissa’s Jeep Cherokee – we went through the starting procedure: pump twice and crank. According to Chris, it idled better than the last time he heard it run, and his seat-of-the-pants dynamometer reports improved throttle response. This last bit may be the result of repositioning the accelerator pump linkage, dumb luck, and speed.

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Two videos of the Camaro running (and roaring; turn up the volume):

Official definition of speed, from Merriam-Webster:

speed noun
\ ˈspēd \
1 archaic : prosperity in an undertaking : SUCCESS
2 a : the act or state of moving swiftly : SWIFTNESS
   b : rate of motion: such as
      (1) : VELOCITY sense 1
      (2) : the magnitude of a velocity irrespective of direction
   c : IMPETUS
3 : swiftness or rate of performance or action : VELOCITY sense 3a
4 a : the sensitivity of a photographic film, plate, or paper expressed numerically
   b : the light-gathering power of a lens or optical system
   c : the time during which a camera shutter is open
5 a : transmission gear in automotive vehicles or bicycles — usually used in combination
      //a ten-speed bicycle
6 : someone or something that appeals to one’s taste
    //just my speed
7 : METHAMPHETAMINE
   also : a related stimulant drug and especially an amphetamine
   at speed
   chiefly British
   : FAST, RAPIDLY
   up to speed
   : operating at full effectiveness or potential

Copyright © 2019 by James Knudsen