Wednesday, July 6, 2011
While the codger was in the field a couple weeks ago the redhead was being a dutiful wife cruising around town in our 20 year old Honda and running errands.
When I got home however she reported somewhat emphatically that she was finished with the Honda.
The story unfolded that our beloved Accord had "gone Nascar".
On her way home it revved mightily and bolted like a race horse
She managed to get it into neutral and pulled over with the engine roaring.
Fortunately a number of gentlemen stopped to offer help, and one of them de-jammed the throttle.
"I'm not getting in that thing anymore", she said.
I started the car up expecting a wild horse ride, but it purred like a kitten, and no amount of foot play could get the throttle to jam.
But my assurances didn't change the redhead's mind, so I took the car to our mechanic and explained the problem.
A day later he handed me a plastic bag filled with acorns and stuffing from the car seats, along with a rodent-chewed air filter.
In all likelihood, he said, some mouse debris had temporarily jammed the throttle.
The redhead still wants nothing to do with it.