July 1st, 2005
Holy Smokes
Do I have any fans of the Fuel Injector/Carburetor cleaner out there? You know, it comes in a bottle, promising better gas mileage and a smoother running engine? You add it to a full tank of gas…or at least that’s what the directions on the back of the bottle say to do with it….
The Car Talk guys are always recommending stuff like this to people whose cars are basically lost causes. “Find something with ‘Miracle’ printed on it somewhere,” they’ll say. Their tone suggests that the additive won’t actually do anything, but that, after it’s administered, the problem may diminish for a completely unrelated reason, or the placebo effects may take hold and the problem will disappear in the car-owner’s head, because, after all, they used an additive. A miracle additive.
Driving an old, beat-up, point-A-to-point-B car, I am also a big proponent of additives…. I don’t do a great deal of “regular maintenance” on my car. About once every six months I will change my oil. I check my fluids then too, if I remember. Oh, and I clean out the boxes and bags and clothes and papers that have piled up in my back seat and trunk. And finally, for good measure, I throw in some additives. They make them for your oil and your gas and your coolant, but Fuel Injector/Carburetor cleaner is my favorite. Does it actually improve my gas mileage and make my engine run better? Probably not. But it gives me what I’m looking for: a quantifiable, immediate result that is fun to watch.
Now this won’t happen if you actually follow the directions on the back. You have to do it Dad’s way. First of all, do not even glance at the directions; Dad has never read them. While the car is running, quickly remove the lid for the air filter and pour the entire bottle directly into the carburetor. The engine will gasp and sputter and eventually stall out. Let it sit in there for a good ten minutes. Then try to start the car. Given that you just flooded the engine, this will not happen without a fight. However, when it finally does…wow…. Cascades of black smoke — like the stuff you see billowing out of coal-powered plants in photos from the industrial revolution — will shoot from your tailpipe. And every time you hit the gas, you’ll get more. You’ll feel a tinge of guilt for polluting so heavily, but then you’ll think, “All that crap used to be in my engine,” and this is a great feeling.
I highly recommend this method to anyone else whose car has a carburetor. I guarantee you an hour of driving without a single tailgater behind you.
The night Dad and I first brought my car home, about eight years ago, he decided we should clean the carburetor out in this manner. Kate, Kevin, and I were watching, and, after it started again, we all piled in to take it for a drive. I didn’t know how to drive stick yet, so Dad was driving, running the engine really high, blowing all this stuff out. I remember looking back and seeing this expanse of filthy clouds in our wake.
As we were rounding a corner in our neighborhood, we saw Fr. Wall, the priest from our church…. He was probably about 65 back then. He was in the street helping a woman who was even older out of a car and into her house. My dad pulled up and said “hi” to him. They talked for a few minutes about what was going on with the church…you could see the exhaust was really starting to bother Fr. Wall and the woman. Finally he asked “Bob, is your car ok?” Dad explained what we’re out doing, and with that said “Ok, well, we’ll see you later,” he hit the gas, and, as we took off…bam.
I still remember looking in the rear view mirror and seeing the silhouettes of two figures coughing and frantically waving their hands in front of their faces, as the explosion of smoke engulfed them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my Dad laugh so hard as when he realized what he had just done. I’m sure all the years of Catholic school and life in the Catholic church had made it clear that you were never, ever supposed to do anything like that to a priest, even accidentally.
To this day, when we recall this story, Dad goes into a fit of laughter so violent that he can barely breathe. Though part of that is probably due to all the smoke inhalation.
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