An English In Kentucky


















Monday August 26th 2019Tim Candler9


    Rusting Brake Lines Leak. The very idea sends shivers down the arm, not unpleasant images of driving off a cliff, momentarily in glorious flight before reality bites. It'll mean a lot of incomprehensible terminology we boys are supposed to have an innate understanding of, and woe unto he who might say something like "What's a brake hose clip." And there'll be wiggling around under a vehicle, losing tools, losing vital parts, head banging, getting bitten by insect and high risk of personal physical damage, the body is no longer remotely snake like in its capacity to worm around inside an engine. Nor will the assistant be of much use, she'll probably lick brake fluid and we'll both end up in the emergency room. The question of course is why? The answer, might just as well be Vive La France.


     All the same, actually looking forward to it, keep the mind wholly engrossed and totally confused by something else for what could be a good long time if my own history of vehicle repair is anything to go by. It's a bread, milk and toilet paper type excitement. And you never know, should I survive the experience the repairs might prove roughly successful, and will give me my chance to sit around harping on about no matter how hopelessly broken something appears to be, the idea of repair offers glimmers of hope. Also the case that these sorts of projects always begin with a fatalistic resort to a Psalm of David : "Yea, prepare the table, spare the rod, a little anointing might be nice, I'll fear no evil so long as somewhere along the line my cup runneth over, if only very briefly."


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