Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire

Ah it must be Christmas in NH. The smell of roasting acorns on your manifold.

 

And acorns packed in my carburetor.


Every night when you go to bed – thats bed - not sleep, you can hear little furry things rolling acorns around the studs in your wall. Rattle, rattle, rattle, scratch, scratch, scratch. Its 2 am – might as well stayed up and watched the Sci-Fi Channel.


I took the air cleaner off my car yesterday so I could put a water pump on my Geo Metro and what do I find (besides the fact that the timing belt and crank pulley has to come off as well) but about two dozen acorns in my carburetor (“throttle body” for you car nuts).


I drove that poor little car all the way to Augusta Maine last week to see Mary Adams and talk to that state's taxpayer groups, then had to limp and sputter all the way back home. No wonder.


The acorns that were "stored" down in the carb were soaked with gas. I tossed a few in the wood stove and they went off like some sort of hissing James Bond secret weapon.


So remember. When you're up late at knight listening to noises in the wall and staring up at the new wet spots on the white ceiling - its not that bad.


Because the relatives of these same little creatures are busy out in your car packing every available crevice with nuts and chewing all the wires in your dash board.