We’ve been avoiding making eye contact with Mr Perkins since our return, but after two weeks it was probably time to lift the lid on his box and give him a bit of a tickle.
Even Bill has almost given up in the fight to keep Mr P’s injectors IN-jecting rather than OUT-jecting as they seem to want to do. How many years has it been? We have truthfully lost count of the number of times they’ve been out and in again, and each time we’ve managed to stop a leak in one only to have it bob up again in another at some later time in the season. Work on a Perkins Diesel is about as far from Rocket Science as it is possible to actually be, yet a permanent solution to the filthy problem eludes us.
So we sighed and shrugged our shoulders and rolled up our sleeves one more time, or at least Bill did, and once more set off unto the breach.
We are hopeful that we’ve got it this time, but “hope” is not a word that’s laced with confidence and just as there’s no logical reason why these leaks recur, there’s no logical reason to believe they have gone either. Even when we threaten to pension him off if he doesn’t start behaving soon, Mr P just sort of sits there silently, staring defiantly into space as if to say “well all you buggers are”,.
He has a point.
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