Outboard Surgery

Our 1988 outboard motor developed a sneeze over the last year, which sounded like an old man with COPD attempting to walk a short distance.  Step…step..*cough*…step..step…*cough* and then stop…rest. No longer was it a confident, strong, reliable entity but a weak sickly thing that kind of made you feel sad.

When motoring to the dock you’d hear us talk to it, sometimes kindly and sometimes not, “Come on!  It’s just a little farther. You can do it!”  We saw the expressions on peoples faces as they looked at us with pity. 

Some people suggested that maybe it was time that we put the poor little guy down.  But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun to feel a lot more empathy for tired old things.  Maybe it just needs a little love.  Besides, its part of our family, so Kathy and I took it upon ourselves to see what we could do.

My first attempt was to seek the local medicine man in hopes he’d have some magic elixir that might heal our patient.  He was easy to find and as I told him of our patient’s woes, he nodded his head as if he understood what might be ailing it. This gave me a reassurance that he might indeed have a solution.  Unfortunately, he soon grew impatient and cut me off.  “You need to let it go!” he informed me curtly. As I walked away, dejected, an anger swelled inside me, “You don’t give up on family!” I yelled back.

My second attempt was to find my own elixir.  I went to the local pharmacy and saw a plethora of cure-alls.  I purchased one, confident that it would fix our patient and poured the mixture into its belly.  I shook it around and made sure it drank a reasonable quantity before it began to gasp, cough, and sputter.  To my horror, I’d only made things worse.  Maybe they were right, and we just needed to put the poor thing out of its misery.

Depressed, we turned to the internet in hopes that we could self diagnose.  Together we sifted through badly constructed videos, manuals, blogs, and forums trying to find a solution. After hours or research and studying its anatomy, we still weren’t sure the correct course of action. We opted for exploratory surgery.  Kathy requisitioned the necessary parts we might use if the situation presented itself. I continued to study the anatomy and formulated a plan for alternative scenarios in case things went bad.

Finally, the time came.  Kathy stood at the ready with our sterilized instruments as I opened our patient to expose its internal organs. Kathy and I looked at each other and nodded in agreement that we should proceed.  I began working on the carburetor, the lungs of my poor patient, before I could get to the read valves next to its heart.  Fluids spurted from veins and arteries as I worked and Kathy did her best to keep the area clear.

As we removed these vital organs, we could see their damage from years of abuse and neglect. Plaque (rust) was everywhere.  I looked at Kathy and shook my head from side to side, but she refused to give up.  She began to massage the tired old organs and work her magic.  I protested, “It’s over!” But Kathy looked at me with anger in her eyes and said, “You never loved it, you monster!  You only cared about what it could to do for you.” Taken aback, I tried to defend myself. “That’s not true,” I stammered.  “I’ve tried my best.”

“Then don’t give up!” Kathy handed me the parts and told me to finish the job.

My hands were shaking as I placed the organs back into the patient.  It was a slow process and Kathy wiped my brow as I worked.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, I completed the procedure.  But would it work?

The next part was violent as we tried to shock our patient to life.  I grabbed the pull cord and gave it a swift pull, observing that our patient had no reaction at all.  “AGAIN!” Kathy yelled.  I pulled hard again and again sweat dripping from my forehead.  My arms ached and my breath was labored I sat down exhausted.  Kathy handed me a spray can and said “Try this!” I sprayed the starting fluid into the lungs of the beast as a last resort to coax it back to life.  I said a small prayer as I pulled with all my might.

Our patient roared to life.  I looked back to Kathy to see that she was smiling.  I quickly made some small adjustments and our patient was no longer coughing or sneezing.  We had saved it, and we embraced each other in our success that our family was still intact.  Our outboard is now running like a champ and generally starts on the first pull now. Encouraged, we decided to order a few more parts that need replacing.