I never thought I could find a way to hate these F'ing standard petcocks more than I already do. The millions of gallons of wasted fuel flowing through gas-cut gorges on my garage floor; the destroyed air filters piling up in the shed; the gallons of tainted oil being turned down by the recycling center because if no longer even smelled like oil; the hundreds of hours of frustration just knowing I was only one tweak away from making these things work. But failing. Failing. My ego obliterated. A cold night never knowing the warmth of dawn.
I'd read the posts from folks who made them work just fine. It's easy, they kept saying: it's this peg, it's this spring, it's that little spring washer. I knew in my heart, however, the secret to their success. It was a deal with the devil, that's what it was. I do not judge the life choices of others, but I was not ready to make that step.
I hanged those suckers on a nail on the wall of my garage, a constant reminder that there are things I cannot do. They hanged there for a couple years, dangling from their little nooses. A visual lesson in humility. A visceral touch of vengence. Then I got other petcocks from MikesXS that SHUT OFF.
Then, a few days ago, I saw a post about how to fill in the primer channel. A way to give them an off position. REDEMPTION WOULD BE MINE! I went to pull them from the gallows.
They're gone. Those little bastards made as escape. And with them they took the still practially brand new rebuild kits sitting in their gullets so I can't even rebuild the varnish-caked petcocks I pulled off my latest project bike. They are still laughing at me, somewhere.
I hate my petcocks, where ever they are.
Rant over.
Patrick
I'd read the posts from folks who made them work just fine. It's easy, they kept saying: it's this peg, it's this spring, it's that little spring washer. I knew in my heart, however, the secret to their success. It was a deal with the devil, that's what it was. I do not judge the life choices of others, but I was not ready to make that step.
I hanged those suckers on a nail on the wall of my garage, a constant reminder that there are things I cannot do. They hanged there for a couple years, dangling from their little nooses. A visual lesson in humility. A visceral touch of vengence. Then I got other petcocks from MikesXS that SHUT OFF.
Then, a few days ago, I saw a post about how to fill in the primer channel. A way to give them an off position. REDEMPTION WOULD BE MINE! I went to pull them from the gallows.
They're gone. Those little bastards made as escape. And with them they took the still practially brand new rebuild kits sitting in their gullets so I can't even rebuild the varnish-caked petcocks I pulled off my latest project bike. They are still laughing at me, somewhere.
I hate my petcocks, where ever they are.
Rant over.
Patrick
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