Grease Frightening IV

Upon opening the hood it was quickly apparent where the problem lay. The engine oil cap had been left off, and the oil itself had shot up all over the engine, leaving none inside where it was needed. The dipstick confirmed that there was less than a quart remaining. Admonishing myself for my stupidity, I refilled the oil and McGuivered a cap out of some spare bits of plastic and, of course, duct tape. On my last legs I rolled into an auto parts store at the next exit. None of the caps fit my vehicle, but the mechanic did have some useful advice.

“If you get some brake cleaner and spray that around the opening, the duct tape will stick better.” This was fine, except for the fact that most of the previous duct tape had melted into a grey plastic goop. But it was good enough to get me to the major metropolis of Meridian: population 200.

There, the gas station attendants proved utterly worthless. Between them they couldn’t come up with the location of a single auto parts store closer than Tuscaloosa. A trucker, overhearing my sad story, offered me salvation in the least likely of forms - his buddies, located outside the store.

A group of seven or eight truckers, all very large, all very greasy, were passing time around their trucks on the other side of the parking lot. Timidly, I approached.

“I was wondering if y’all might help me out.” I said, doing my best not to sound like a Yankee. “I’ve been driving a damned long ways and I forgot to put the engine oil cap back on at the last stop.” I said, lifting the hood of my vehicle to give them a look.

“We don’t have any oil caps do we Jim?” one of them shouted. Jim quickly began scrounging around through piles of parts. “He won’t find any.” another said. “This is a diesel?” one of them asked me. “Actually, it runs on veggie oil too!” I piped up, unable to resist my excitement.

“Hot damn!” they exclaimed almost in unison. “You goin’ Willie Nelson style!”

Willie Nelson drives (rather, drove) around in a tour bus that ran on bio-diesel, which isn’t half as cool as veggie oil, if you ask me.

“Where you goin’ to?” one asked me.

"Jackson."

“Jackson, eh? That’s pretty far. ‘Bout ninety miles.”

“Not really,” I replied, “considering I’ve already come about 900 miles.”

“Hot damn boy! Where you come from?”

I told them.

“Noooo shit. ‘Ey Jim! This here boy come all the way from Mastachusets!”

Jim finally gave up his search for the elusive oil cap and came over to help.

“Well shit, y’ain’t got much further. Tell you what we gonna do. We stuff a rag in there real good like, and the suction will hold it in place, then you put some o’ that tape on it, and you’ll make it fo’ sure.”

Thanking them all profusely, I “rolled towards the south” as the Italian song of the same name played.

Part I
Part II
Part III
You just read part IV.
Part V