Spare Parts

 

            Many of the wells on the ranch were set up to run on wind power or engine power.  Thus, when the wind stopped blowing, we could switch over to a propane powered motor that ran a pump jack to draw water from the well.  The motors we used were all Briggs and Stratton, four-stroke motors.

             The motor was the size of a copy paper box standing on end.  It weighed about 75 to 100 pounds and usually worked pretty well.  Changing from wind to engine was a pain but once the engine was hooked up, it was a pretty straight  shot.  I would remove the hose from the old propane bottle, hook up the new bottle, and turn the valve to open it.  Then the regulator valve was opened for a few seconds by pressing a spring loaded button.  The starter rope was wrapped around the flywheel and then yanked on—hard.  Then the praying began.   I would beg and plead with the powers that be to allow the motor to start and continue working. Usually it helped, but sometimes a cleaning was required.

            When the motor continued to sputter after pulling on the cord for the hundredth time, it was time to pull out the tools.  This consisted of digging through inches of dirt and dried manure while looking for the elusive 9/16 wrench.  Then the header bolts were removed, the head pried off a silicone gasket, and hours of scraping and chipping to remove the burnt-on oil and carbon from many hours of use.  The spark plug gap was set and everything put back together for another round of pulls.  Ever so often, though, the motor gods required a sacrifice.

            One particular engine always gave me tons of grief.  Unfortunately, it was at the North Barth, at least forty miles from town.  It was used more often than the wind and a lot of cattle depended on the water.  Although we should have had spare motors, working motors, on hand, this wasn’t the case.  Just another cost cutting corner on this ill-fated ranch.  One time, I decided to play mechanic.  I had read the small engine repair manual, or rather, browsed through the chapters once for a few minutes.  That made me an expert.

             I started removing bolts, hoses, wires, the carburetor, and other devices like the dingle-hopper and the whatza-majiggers  (true technical terms).  These were laid out on the tailgate of the pickup in order:  all bolts together, all parts together, and wires and hoses together.  I quickly learned that this was not the correct way to take apart an engine!

             After looking at the many pieces, not knowing what in heck was wrong, or what to do with them, I re-assembled the engine.  Some bolts did not tighten all the way and some wires did not exactly fit, but it looked good.  There were a few bolts remaining afterward, but I never could find any place for them so they went in the glove box. 

             I spent another hour bolting the engine to the jack stand, trying to start it, and once again detaching it from the stand. I hefted it into the back of the truck and tied it in place for the long , bumpy ride home and headed out, depressed by my lack of basic mechanical knowledge.

             That afternoon I dropped the engine off at the saw shop for a real repair by a trained mechanic.  I sheepishly set the motor down on the counter and relayed the symptoms of its obvious illness.  Mike, the mechanic, took one look at the engine, shook his head, and said, “ You tried to fix this one, didn’t you?”  I didn’t have to answer.  I bowed my head in embarrassment, wished him the best of luck, and headed out the door.  That was the last time I tried to fix an engine.