Check headspace and timing
In the army, we had this big ass-kicking machine gun, the .50 Cal M2--the Ma Deuce. When we tried to fire the machine gun and it wouldn't work, the sergeant would scold us. "Did you check the headspace and timing?" Well, no. Check headspace and timing became synonymous with, don't be a dumb ass.
Last week I had to check headspace and timing a couple of times.
First, my truck started to overheat. My guts sank at the thought of what it was going to cost. I replaced the water pump last year and it wasn't cheap. Since I've moved, I needed to find a mechanic close to my new place. I called one shop and this guy with a thick Arab accent answered. I told him the problem and he asked, "Did you look at the coolant level?" Well, no. Stupid question. Every time I take my truck to Jiffy Lube or Grease Monkey they check fluid levels. The Arab mechanic advised, "Look at your coolant level. If you still have a problem then come see me."
I looked at my truck's coolant level and the radiator was close to bone dry. It sucked down almost a gallon of Prestone.
Check headspace and timing.
Then
Dharma Gedden (don't you love that name) emailed me to say that I had listed the wrong Roller Derby website a couple of weeks back. What I could distill from her words and threats was: Check headspace and timing.
So here you are,
The Denver Roller Dolls. (more to come after the bout)
Book of the week:
A Year in the Merde.
Stephen Clarke's hysterical antidote to sappy travelogues.