At 10AM this morning, a trio of trucks descended on the house, and the driveway was quickly filled with tools. We pulled the cover from the Scout and looked over the engine compartment. There was plenty of oil, all the hoses looked reasonably clean, the wires were connected, and there was enough juice in the battery to light the brake indicator. After attempting to jump it with the Jeep (not enough power), we swapped out a battery from Mr. Clean’s pickup, cleaned the carburetor, added some gas, and cranked the engine over.

Unbelieveable.

After letting it run for a short while, Mr. Scout suggested we check the coolant level, and it was a good thing he did. The radiator was dry, so we immediately filled it with coolant and water. The next question was what condition the transmission was in. After a quick run through the gears, I put it in reverse and felt the clutch grab almost immediately, then tested first gear with the same result. After we engaged the hubs, I tried out the transfer case and found it easy to engage, even while sitting still.

While we had it running, Finn brought Jen outside to inspect.

After a short while, there was a little leakage from the water pump, so we resorted to a backwoods remedy: eggwhites in the coolant. The engine ran smoothly and a little fast, but there is no better sound than that of a big American V-8, and it was singing to us: Take me for a spin. A historic plate was -ahem- borrowed from Mr. Clean’s pickup, and we jockeyed vehicles to make room for its passage.

We took it up the side street and everyone took a turn behind the wheel except Mr. Scout, who is saving himself for the day his mistress is ready for him. First, second, and third gears all shifted smoothly, and the engine made a lovely howl through the dual exhaust.

After returning it to the driveway, we retired to the mexican restaurant down the street to enjoy some warm food and cold beer while the battery charged.

It felt good to be behind the wheel of a Scout again.