Burn, Baby, Burn

Burn, Baby, Burn

So, if you’re following along at home, you probably don’t know that I’ve had in my possession a 1941 Chevy truck for going on four years. It runs, but it doesn’t drive, and slowly, but surely, my father and I have been working on it to get it into drivable condition.

It hasn’t so much been a matter of money, as a matter of time and effort. Mostly, I’m lazy and I don’t want to give up quality movie-watching time.

But we have turned the slowly-rusting, much-neglected but incredibly beautiful truck into a non-rusting, and only semi-neglected beautiful truck with potential.

But sometimes, we get it wrong. And by we, I mean me.

This weekend, my parents came to town, and my father and I decided to put in the gas gauge that we had serviced and repaired. The problem with the ’41 is two-fold: 1- It’s old, so everything costs far more than it should; 2- It’s a 6-volt system.

The first isn’t so great an issue that it can’t be dealt with. In fact, there is no problem so great that if you throw enough cash at it, it won’t get solved.

The second, though, can really mess with your head. Most cars these days run on a 12-volt system. Don’t ask me why. We decided to convert the ’41 to 12-volt, as it made certain things easier (like headlights), but other things tricky (like gas gauges). But, again, enough money, and problems are solved. A $20 resistor reduces the voltage to the necessary amount, and away you go.

Unless you happen to hook the gauge up wrong the first time, then you get smoke, the potential for fire, a fried gauge and a useless resistor. Essentially, $75 in burned-out equipment and few hours of sweat and frustration.

Ask me how I know.