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I have been congratulating myself on getting a bit over 20 mpg with the 1972 164e I am working on and driving back and forth to college (110 miles round trip). This morning I took off without much of a thought about driving, and lots of thought about the genetic quiz tomorrow. About twenty miles down the road I noticed that the gas gauge was acting "funny." I had just filled up, but it was reading less than half tank. !@$@#% wiring, I thought. But as I watched, the thing gradually kept going south. I came to a stop sign about five more miles down the road, and thought that I might as well check to see if there was a leak from the tank. Got out, went back to the rear end - nope, no leak, went back to the drivers side door and stepped in a puddle of gas! Dropped down and looked to see gas SPEWING out - quickly turned car off. I was sitting on a pressurized maltov cocktail!!! Meanwhile, I am out in the middle of nowhere, and I had, of course, forgotten my cell phone. So, as would any other intelligent volvo wrench head, I climbed back in and drove it 10 miles to the nearest town/telephone. Whe-e-e-e!
O.K. George, you can say I told you so... The ethanol had finally softned the old rubber fuel line connections right under the driver's seat. I WILL be changing all of the rubber in the fuel system, but I will also still be burnin' corn squeezin's in the 164E.
Some of us just live right (???)
Kent
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Kent - too much iron, too little time
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