More on the receiver later. Seriously. I'm winding down. I get obsessive. When it came alive, I was like that guy Pete. "Pete Myshants". Anyhow.
Back in the 80's I moved to Florida. Almost immediately was offered a job from a water well driller. Pretty good mechanic, could weld, had (at the time) a chauffeurs license. Later called CDL.
I did well for almost 10 years when I got a job offer that got me where I really needed to be. In electronics and automation. My last day, I turned in my keys and gas card. The boss wouldn't take the keys.
Told me when and if I ever got a place and needed a well. He had me covered. No cost. Cool huh?
So one morning I get to work. Get in my tanker/welder truck to head out to the job. It was a Monday. It wouldn't start. No crank.
Popped the hood and the damned battery was gone. Got on the 2-way and the boss came back.
Don't worry. "TP" came in and someone stole his battery over the weekend. So he grabbed yours. I'll be there in a few minutes with a new one for you.
"TP". Ron B. Born and bred redneck. A bragger. The best one in golf, the best bowler. Always had good "Ideals". Was going home in the evening to enjoy the "Vah-loo-ah 'polstery in his La-zee boy".
He'd come in early afternoon. Boss would say wtf. "It's 4 o'clock tee off time, mayunnn". Or come in early and brag he knocked out a well, put a pump in, trenched the wire and pipe in to the house, And installed the tank.
"I'm The Total Package". So he got the nickname. Total Package, Package. Or just TP.
One day one of the guys was welding on something. Hood down and sparks flying, welder ramped up. Here comes The Total Package. Out of his truck bragging how he did and Total Package this, and Total Package that. John breaks his bead. The welder idled down. Flips his hood up and looks over. "TP.....Toilet Paper". Flips the hood down and continues welding. You had to be there. Epic.
Remember. You got ME started!
So anyhoo. I get my new battery in the truck and get ready to go to the jobsite.
TP screams in on the 2-way. "Hey mayunn..I'm out here on (15 minutes away)". "And muhtruck (a real word in redneck Fl.) fukkin' overheated". "Some-unn stole muh goddamned ray-dee-yatter too".
He takes my battery and didn't even notice the radiator gone. It was a stick, so no tranny sauce sprayed out.
The truck was a pretty nice GMC 1 ton dually with a 454. It ran the same empty or loaded to the hilt. A dog! And drank gas like who knows what.
It got towed back. Engine seized tighter 'n you know what. And there it sat. For a couple of years.
Jerry. A Florida State Trooper. Big dude. Nice as hell. And a true cowboy redneck from Arcadia, Fl. Toted his saddle around almost everyplace and rode in rodeos.
Came into the yard in the evening in his custom hopped-up 5.0 Mustang Po-lice Interceptor. Cracked his hood open to keep it cooler. And did his daily reports. Then he'd BS with us for a bit.
Kept me in more 10mm auto for law enforcement use only engine block splitters than I ever cared to sail down the twists.
Jerry. Looks at that 454 often. Came in in his grubby clothes. Breaker bar, box of tools. Automatic tranny sauce and funnel. He would patiently, several times a week. Pour Dexron in the plug holes and wiggle the breaker bar on the crank snout bolt. A coupe of weeks, the motor was turning 360 degrees. Hit the stater and it spun and spit nasty tranny sauce all over.
He slapped a set of plugs in it. Checked it over. Earl, a junkyard radiator. A shot of ether. And it started. Rattled like hell, earl gauge barely moving.
But it ran.
He drained the pan, put a new filter in it. Flushed it out a little with kero. And introduced 7 quarts of glorious 90W-140 gear lube. You know, the cat-pissy smelling stuff? Into the innards.
It quieted down. Had pressure. Ran cool. Had "some" power.
And went right by the highway freshly pressure washed with bleach mix inside and out. With a big FOR SALE sign. It was gone in 2 days. Jerry and my boss split it 50-50.
Good times!
