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Considering the general reliability of the average internal combustion
engine in the face of neglect, abuse and the natural ravages of
weather, the automobile engine is a brute-force mechanism completely
unable to support a psychosis. I was, however, appalled to discover
just how many little thumb-valves, levers, wires, doo-dads, cams,
gizmos and kadodies there are, each of which must be adjusted within
ridiculously narrow limits before the so-called brute-force mechanism
will deign to turn a gear. But again, and luckily, making adjustments
and maladjustments takes time. And by the logical rules of classical
mechanics, the simple maladjusting turn of a screw valve takes no
longer to return to adjustment provided the restorer is as bright and
as quick as the wrecker.
We worked our way through it like a pair of fencers or ju jitsu
professionals going through the formal ritual of opening their
engagement.
He fastened on the starting system, but I licked him cold on that one
because the ignition key controls the starter relay switch and I could
handle both with one hand.
He tried to block the starting relay, but the armature had started
before he arrived with his kinematic barrier and the solid
mechanico-electrical power carried the armature home.
He made a futile attempt to flummox up the laws of Mr. Ohm, but he did
not have the power to prevent amperes from flowing from the battery
into the starting motor. By the time he thought of gumming up the
bendix, the gear had meshed against the flywheel and the engine was
turning over.
He tried to flood the engine, but I held the choke valve just as I
wanted it. He fiddled with the breaker-points and I blocked that until
one of the cylinders fired. That kicked the whole engine into life
and made the engine far too rapid to control, moving member by moving
member. This caused his attention to turn to the needle valves, but as
fast as he turned them out, I turned them back in again. He hit the
choke again and I parried his thrust.
The engine kicked over, caught, spluttered and backfired, and then
went into an erratic running that smoothed out slightly as it warmed.
I wasted no time; I kicked her into gear and took off in a jack-rabbit
start with my siren wailing.