It sits on top of the motor block. Sitting right on top in the middle, and it is the standard Oldsmobile-type carburetor, with an air filter on the top, held with this clamp. So I take the air filter off and I set it down on the ground very carefully. Now I am really working on the car, see. I look in and I can see a little oil and gunk at the edges of this carburetor.
The carburetor on the block sits on a flange with four bolts that go right through. So, no problem taking it off. I fit the socket wrench down arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, creeeeeeeeee, the first nut started to move eeeeeeeee. I get it loose. The next one is really tight, so I take the old man’s mallet and hit the handle of the wrench and there it goes, eeeeeeeeee. Fifteen minutes later I have removed the four key bolts which hold the carburetor down to the block of the Oldsmobile!
All the while the old man is in his bedroom snoozing away. He’s got the world by the you-know-what. He’s sleeping, it’s Saturday. He does not realize that his world is crumbling around him.
So I lift the carburetor off. Then I see it’s got a gasket that sits down over the four bolts, so I think, I’d better take the gasket off because I’m going to clean that now.
You see, when man perpetrates a total fiasco, he does it logarithmically. In other words, if you’re gonna louse up, you will really louse up. You don’t louse up a little bit, you go all the way.
So I peal this cork gasket off and put it next to the carburetor, which is now on a piece of newspaper on the driveway next to the car. Now I’m really going to go to work.
I take a rag and I take a can of gasoline out of the garage and I start taking the carburetor apart very carefully. I can see the needle valve in there and all that stuff, and I douse it with gasoline and I’m running it through and sloshing it around. And crud is coming out! I’m feeling really great—Shepherd is really doing it!
More car story comin’ up.
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shepquest 
Never heard this story, but a sense of dread is seeping into my gut….My Hands are over my eyes and I’m peeking through my fingers to mitigate the horror I fear is coming …One year the old man bought a Ford Falcon I think it was 1962, and our garage was well below street level with a short but steep driveway. i think it might have been Washington’s Birthday or maybe it was a snow day with us off from school because we lived in the hills of Northern New Jersey and the school buses were unable to get through before the roads were plowed. In any event my buddy frank and I thought this would be a great day to drive North to Greenwood Lake on the NJ/NY border and buy some Pabst Blue ribbon, or maybe a case of Carlings Black Label beer because we had such refined taste. My car had been parked on the road in front of our house and becaause the old man was a milk man he had to leave at about 4 AM to get to work, so he took my car leaveng his in the snowbound garage.
I shoveled out the driveway and began to back out on the still slick snow covered asphalt ….Neeeeeeeee neeeeeee neeeeee slew slew neeeeee and rolled back into the garage. I was an expert driver-Hey, I got an A in drivers ed on the school’s standard shift Rambler. i was determined…Rev rev rev Neeeee neeeee neeee neeeee over and over as I slowly slipped the clutch pedal up and off and applied the gas iota at at time…Neeeee neeee neeee with Frank coaching me…OK roll back and see if you can get up some speed in the garage—“Pop the clutch” Neeeee neeeee neeeeee up about 6 feet of hill, Neeeee neeeeee. Sand we do need no steeenin sand, Neeeee neeeee maybe an hour and finally we crested the peak and onto level roadway.
Geee the car smells funny like something’s burning. Off we went to Greenwood Lake up Route 513 Greenpond Road, across Route 23 and on into the hinterlands and to the first grocery store we could find…carefully driving through the speed traps and triumphantly returning home with our booty- 2 cases of Pabst. I snuck the car back down the driveway and cherished our prize which we hid in the shed under the back porch.
The next day I heard a commotion downstairs…I won’t go into the lies that were told but somehow- the goddamn Mufffffgh X%$#! clutch was “Burned out” on the almost new red Falcon and I slunk off with friends to enjoy our costly prize, almost guilt free. God damn Fords They don’t call them “Found On Road Dead” for nothing
Gene, thank you for the real life story related to Shep’s. Shep’s is a fairly long one, so it will take some time to complete.