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This required a couple of springs attached to mounting points on the intake. I sat in the car and tested the response to the pedal while grandpa and Louie watched where that moved the linkage, and how far it opened up the manifold.It was getting downright close to the moment of truth. Grandpa had me fill two fuel cans with five gallons of methanol from a big barrel he had just purchased. Then I popped the cap to the fuel tank, grabbed a big funnel and carefully added ten gallons of the eye-watering fuel to the fuel cell.Grandpa was bolting a freshly painted black header to the left side of the engine. It snaked around itself to bring the hot exhaust of the left bank of cylinders into one four-inch pipe facing the rear of the car. There was no muffler. This thing would be loud.I kneeled on the other side of the car and hand-tightened the right header in place. Grandpa came around and tightened it up with a ratchet.This was the moment of truth.Grandpa had about an hour’s worth of. However, this uneasy relationship couldn’t last for long. Its strain was particularly agonising when Dorothy saw Maisie licking at Emma’s vagina while her hair was being appreciatively stroked. Or when she heard her daughter’s cries of ecstasy or, less frequently but louder, those of Emma, coming from Maisie’s bedroom during the evening or night. But the final moment was when an ecstatic Maisie came rushing in to confide to her mother what she’d been doing. Dorothy was reading a book at the time. She’d just finished marking some essays, and had squeezed ear-plugs in her ears to drive out the sounds from Maisie’s room of Emma’s cries and the dreadful thumping of the bed against the wall. Then she noticed her daughter coming in, naked as always and saying ‘I’ve done it! I’ve done it!’ ‘Done what, dear?’ wondered Dorothy looking up from her book and noticing for the first time that Maisie wasn’t actually naked. She was wearing quite a sizable, anatomically correct, dildo around her.
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