I woke this morning to an overwhelming stench of petrol.  Bedroom on the third 
floor of the home, garage at the bottom.

I ran down to see if the neighbors had decided to torch my house.  Turns out 
the rear flex fuel hose had perished and was piddling on the garage floor.

This is not a good sign, so I open the door and back the car out into the 
driveway to get a better look.  Roll Froggy up on the ramps and see the line is 
original and soaked, the fuel drooling along the hard line and piddling on the 
ground.  I can either tackle this myself, or have my indy swap it out in five 
minutes.  I figure it is worth the Jackson to have him tackle it, so I give 
them a call.  

No answer, and it is shop hours.  Maybe the receptionist is piddling her own 
self.  Fire up Froggy and drive the three miles to the shop.  They are gone 
until mid month.  DANG!  Looks like I am going to have to do this my own self.

FLAP has a vast selection of sizes, and I did not know just how fat a hose I 
need, so I guesstimate that it is .025" id.  Head back home and put her on the 
ramps again.  Pull out the needle nose clamping things and seal off the line so 
I can undo the hardline side.  While unscrewing the hose clamp, the hose fails 
and dribbles fuel on me.  I put another plier clamp on and it stops

Until the tank side line fails as well and now it is coming out in earnest.  
Eating my gloves while I am trying to cap the dang thing off.  I had already 
cut a length of hose and had clamps on it, but I have to get the dead hose off 
so I can install the new hose.  All the while petrol is flowing down my arms 
and onto the underside bits of the car, such that it gets past my safety 
glasses and into my eyes.

While my eyes are burning, I yank off my gloves and make a wad of them, slap 
that onto the nipple spewing fuel all over and clamp it with the pliers.  Strip 
off my shirt and jacket and run into the house to the closest sink so I can 
flush my skin and eyes.  After a few minutes of cool water running over 
eyeball, I can see again, but keep on flushing.  I fetch a new shirt and head 
back under the car.

It turns out the .025" id is a bit too tight to go over the hard lines, and the 
gloves are beginning to dissolve.  Fuel is now piddling again and I scamper 
around looking for another object to plug the flow.   I got nothing.  I figure 
I will just stopper it with more fresh glove and clamp it, hoping it holds long 
enough to get to FLAPS and back with a more proper hose.  I grab the dead hose 
as an example so I do not have to guess.

Back from FLAPS, I cut an appropriate length of hose and set clamps on it.  The 
wad of shop glove is holding well and I am able to seat the one end of the new 
hose to the hard line.  Tank side, there is still a 0.5" section of dead hose 
stuck on the nipple.  Much head scratching ensues while I contemplate just how 
much fuel may spew while I remove said obstruction and then struggle to hook up 
the new hose.  I could try to toss a bucket or such under, but from the spread 
of fuel all up on the suspension, I would need a kiddie pool size bucket.  
Decide that a kitty litter barrier downstream will have to suffice.  Mix it 
with garden dirt for a fair dam, and plunge ahead.

I lost about a quart of petrol while getting the nipple clear and the new hose 
on and clamped securely.    No fuel in my eyes, but much on the flesh, even 
with gloves on.  No more dribbles from the fuel lines, which is desired result. 
  Use a small yard sprayer with water in it to hose off the petrol from the 
underside of the car.  Then gather up my dam of litter and mud into a bucket 
and take it to my fire pit to dump.  

I have an idiot neighbor.  He was let go from M$ and now works as an Amazon 
slave.  He thinks he is the smartest thing on the planet.  I think him a moron. 
 He sees me dumping the dirt and inquires if I am going to be burning dirt now. 
 I tell him it is dragon poop, toss a match on it and watch his eyes grow big.


2002 s430 - Victor, a Stately & well tailored chap
1974 450sl -  Frosch - Two tone green
1976 300D - Blei Vanst - it looks silvery
1972 220D - Gump - She was green, simple and ran
1995 E300D - Gave her life to save me against a Dame in a SUV
POS 1987 SDL - Beware Nigerian Scammers


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