Ernies driveline story reminded me of a hot hot date when i was 17..... I had recently purchaced a 61 studebaker lark from a little old lady down the road, after i had totalled my 57.The car was MINT with a V -8 and rather spunky. but I digress.
So the plan was ....as a matter of fact always was, to procure some reinlander or the like (very cheap beer) ,and head down any one of the local logging roads or old country dead ends....and set about solving that ever intrigueing mystery...So..... im driving down such a road with the fullness of of the evenings portent reflected in the headlight bouncing back through the windsheild off the hood ornament high alfalfa growing between the ruts in the road to the river...............then my car starts slowing down ....even with more and more throttle.....until the engine just wont push the car any more........after seriously weighing the urgency of the two tasks at hand ,...I errantly decide to first see what's wrong with my new chariot..
I step out of my car to a chorus of frogs chirping away and step into ankle deep water.....I have a look under my car and my drive line resembles a six foot bundled christmas tree....somehow I have snaged a piece of barbed wire with my driveline and then harvested a great cylindrical bale of hay in tranny tunnel l
The car wouldnt move ....so I spent my precious hours laying in ankle deep water ,slashing ...cursing ..,tearing my hands..,it took hours to undo it enough to back out ..
I got...., soakin wet , nearly froze, good and bloody.looks of pity.. but no comfort .....damn
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KK