"Back when I was a kid in Modesto, California there was a delightfully perverse young lady who could suck a golf ball through a fifty foot garden hose. She occupies a special place among my memories because she taught me a lot about auto mechanics. Or rather, she caused me to learn a lot about auto mechanics. She lurched into Hendy's Drive-In in her 1937 Ford tudor, said it was running like shit and offered to demonstrate her remarkable talent for anyone who could fix it, pronto. The car immediately vanished under a dog-pile of hot-rodders oozing testosterone. Half an hour later the car was still there. It would idle okay but began bucking and wheezing whenever the throttle was touched. The hot-rodders had vanished; the prize unwon.
I strolled over as she was latching the hood (it folded up from either side), nudged her aside, pulled the air cleaner, played the choke & throttle together to get the revs up to about 2500 rpm, then mashed my hand over the throat of the carb, which just about did to me what she could do to a golf ball.
Didn't help. So I did it again. The third time I gave it the Po' Boy Carb Clean, it cleared whatever had been blocking the high-speed circuit, settled down and ran like a top. I put the air cleaner back on, latched the hood and strolled away, the epitome of Mr. Cool, right down to my blue suede shoes." to be continued click sur l'image
J'espere que vous trouverez un traducteur subtil faute d'avoir des bonnes connaisances du langage trans-atlantique...
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