Oh, hey--speaking of food...

Which we weren't, but I can't start EVERY post with, "Hey, speaking of Volvos..."

Anyway, I left for my seminar very early yesterday, because I was in near desperation to stop in and get breakfast at a Waffle House. Every so often, I just get a craving for mass quantities of the four Southern food groups--salt, fat, sugar, and starch.

So, I got to the designated exit, and not seeing anything, I took off up and down Highway 31 looking for a likely spot, and wound up at the one at the Alabaster exit (one south of the the one I had originally exited the Interstate).

Parked, went in, sat down at the counter, grabbed a menu. Small crowd--a couple of EMTs (no doubt waiting for someone to have a coronary), a older lady nursing a cup of coffee, a guy one chair away from me down the counter, and then a Catholic priest came in and took the empty stool. I watched the cook do her cooking, listened to the ambient conversation amongst the wait staff and customers. Sat.

Pretty soon, the only guy working there, a lanky old fellow with the long pony tail, heavy beard, and arm ink that point to a life lived mostly on the back of a motorcycle, came over and started talking to the woman nursing the coffee. They talked about stuff, she allowed that she had a truck that she nearly drove off a bridge, he said that was bad, and then I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was looking at me.

"Hey, that your Volvo out there?"

What pride I felt! I have been recognized for being a wonderfully discerning judge of sheetmetal!

"Yep, sure is."

"You wanna buy another'n?"

"Uh, well, I can only drive one at a time, so I probably don't need to bring another one home--someone might get perturbed at me!"

"Yeah. Well, I's just kinda wonderin. I got a '90, and I been tryin to find someone to sell to."

Now, I had no real need to know, but curiousity got the better of me.

"What's wrong with it?

"Needs a valve job."

Which really isn't that big of a deal--but he went on...

"Yeah, timin belt broke."

Oh. My.

A timing belt break is more than a valve job (which implies only regrinding the angles and installing new seals). The valves are designed that when they're open, they would occupy the same space as the piston, which is fine if the piston's way down in the bore, but once that synchronization is gone, watch out--it's basically like setting off a grenade in the engine. Valves get bent, pistons get broken, and all forward progress grinds to a sudden, irreversible, halt.

"Goodness--I bet it's a mess. What do the pistons look like?"

"Aw, I don't know--I ain't opened it up none to see. Good little car, though. Run good till it quit."

"Yep, I've enjoyed mine--but like you found out, they don't like going to long without a timing belt."

"Naw. Interference motor."

"Yep. Were you close to home when it happened?"

"Yeah, bout three miles out, so I's able to get it towed back."

"Hm. Well, maybe you'll find a buyer."

"Yeah."

And that was my breakfast conversation at the Alabaster Waffle House!