Mrs. the Poet appears to have caught some kind of bug and has temporarily (I hope) lost her sense of smell and taste. Her loss means she has decided to skip spending money on food she can’t taste and spending bus fare to get to food she can’t taste. While this disappoints me, upsetting my wife disappoints me more than skipping dinner out.
There is humor to be found in the situation, however. Anytime she uses a word with a long “u” or “oo” sound, she honks like someone strangling a goose. It even makes her giggle sometimes. It’s the little things that keep us from killing each other sometimes, but I’ll take it.
I spent an hour crawling over and around the bucket body seeing how much room I had for feet and master cylinders, and if I bend my knees a little I might be able to get 3 master cylinders and pedals between the body and the bellhousing, 2 brakes and one clutch, but if I end up with a SBC there ain’t no way in hell there will be that much room. My knees would need to be around my chin to have that much room. I sure hope that winning lottery ticket comes through soon…