Time spent: 42073 hours
A large number of us have purposely flooded a car before in order to create a cranking scenario. The first time I did it was one of the most memorable experiences ever. Here it is in detail, mostly fact.?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comJanine was my best friend's mother. She was about 5 foot 6, and petite in build. She had dark auburn hair cut quite short, tanned skin, and for some reason always wore makeup even to take out the garbage. She wasn't exceptionally pretty as I recall, but she had a very VERY nice pair of fit, tanned legs and usually dressed to expose them in the summer. She was a 'single-and-looking' mom, and this possibly influenced her ability to dress to flirt no matter what the occasion.On this particular day, it was sunny and absolutely scorching out. My folks were away with the wheels for some reason and my friend was having a birthday party at his family's (aunt and uncle I think?)cottage. My folks and Janine had agreed that she could give me a ride there and back, despite the two extra trips on her behalf, since the cottage was at the beach quite close by.I hung out at home for a while until Janine arrived in her car. She drove a red early 80's Chevrolet Chevette, the little hatchback that even today refuses to die. I didn't care for the little oval shaped gas pedal in them, but beggars can't be choosers, so I walked to the passengers side in hopes of seeing some pedal pumping (even driving would be good, as the Chevette had a clutch) on the way to the cottage.The sight of Janine's legs stopped me cold. She was dolled up in typical casual style with lipstick, painted nails and sunglasses, in a striped sleeveless top, skirt and heels. The skirt was made of white denim (like it was the 80's hehehe) it was very snug, and exposed her bare legs wonderfully, as it ended at mid thigh. The heels were also white, open toed mules (her toenails were red like her fingernails) and had about a 2 or a 3 inch heel.She greeted me cheerfully as I got in and buckled my seat belt, and then proceeded to drive us on our way. I watched as her heeled feet worked the gas, brake, and clutch pedals, and her bare legs, exposed to the thigh, moved and flexed with each shift. They looked so smooth that the tanned skin almost had a slight shine to it.On the way there, Janine had to stop at a convenience store to pick something up. Oddly enough, the store was in a slow part of the route and not busy - we were the only car in the lot. As I watched her go into the store, heels clicking away on the pavement as her bare calves flexed, my heart raced with the possibility of flooding her car. It was sort of wrong I knew, but Janine was dressed particularly "switched on" today, and we were the only car there, and my friend wasn't with me, and...that was enough reasons. I could always tell her how to unflood it and save the day. Besides, we weren't in a hurry.I didn't want to get caught with my leg over the center hump in the floor, pumping....that would be a dead giveaway. Luckily, a couple of my friends' street hockey sticks were in the back. I grabbed one and maneuvered it so that it stretched fore and aft, with the cutoff end on the accelerator pedal, and began pumping as fast as I could. With the build of the little oval shaped pedal, I expected more resistance, but it was worn and easy to press. I pumped and pumped and pumped for almost two full minutes until I saw Janine's face in a lineup near the door, then dropped the stick in the back seat and waited in anticipation.Janine got in, her skirt riding up those amazing thighs. I was trembling with anticipation anyway, but imagining my hand running along the bare, smooth length of her leg made me even more flustered. Not that it would ever happen, but one can dream."Do you smell something, like gas?" she asked me curiously.Oh crap. Busted."Uhhh, yeah, it was here when we got here. Something outside. Maybe the gas station across the street."Janine shrugged, seemingly satisfied with my answer, and I sighed quietly in relief. She slid the key into the ignition assembly, put the clutch in, shifted to neutral, put her left foot then on the brake, and then pumped the accelerator pedal once firmly. Stomp-release. I wondered if she did that every single time she started her car, as it was about 110 in the shade outside.Janine keyed the ignition briefly, and the Chevette cranked, bucked and immediately died.Without touching the accelerator, she tried it again and the engine cranked, sputtered a bit and cranked again briefly.Janine pumped the pedal once more deliberately (press.....hold....release) and turned the key again for a few seconds. The little flooded four-banger cranked and sputtered anxiously (chugga-chugga-chugga) but refused to fire up."Uh oh. What's going on here." Three quick jabs, pump-pump-pump, as her skirt hem crept up a bit and her bare thigh bounced energetically. Oh my God she's doing that pumping all naturally, without guidance, I thought.On the fourth try, she held the key longer and began repeatedly pressing the pedal lightly about halfway down and back. "C'mon baby," she cooed, and my stomach did a little flip flop. The Chevette's starter just chugged away steadily with the odd flooded spark and stumble.Janine let go of the key and looked over at me sadly, then burst out laughing."Well isn't this something! Maybe I should call up to the cottage...wait, there's no phone. Maybe we'll just walk a bit over to that gas station over there.""Well it sounded close. Keep trying it," I suggested. And then, with more risk, "My mom had this old Mercury Comet that wouldn't start unless you pump the heck out of it. Try pumping the gas really fast while it's turning over.""Hummm, I don't know, it's never needed that. Ah well. It's worth a try, huh?"Janine shrugged casually, then held the key hard over and began kicking at the gas pedal with her white, heeled mule, heel of her foot off the floor and out of the mule. I watched in awe as her heeled foot, painted toes, flexed calf and bare leg worked up and down, her tanned bare beautiful thigh bouncing off the seat furiously as her white denim miniskirt worked its way up the soft skin of her legs. "Come on come on come on," she urged as she pumped frantically. Of course the flooded engine just cranked and sputtered over and over and over.Finally, after the long, furiously pumping crank, she stopped. "Well that didn't work, huh?" I was staring, dazed, speechless - and just shook my head.She sniffed the air again - "hey, that gas smell is even stronger now. (gasp) Omigod that's it, that's what's wrong! I'm flooding it! I'm so silly, " she remarked, shoving the gas pedal to the floor and holding it there as her leg stretched out and flexed.I was in no position to deny the flooded part! It wasn't her fault it was flooded, but I kept that silent. Plus, I figured at this point the mission had been a success and didn't want to push it and really get us stranded with a dead battery. Or get caught trying to erroneously encourage her pumping.She cranked the engine for a lengthy try with the accelerator pedal to the floor, and it sputtered closer and closer to catching and finally did, with a rev. "Ah! There we go!"We drove the rest of the way to the cottage without incident. Of course, the whole time I was at the party, I was stealing looks at Janine's beautiful bare legs as she walked or even better, sat crosslegged with her miniskirt hiked up on her thigh- and all I could think about was the beautiful pedal pumping show I had witnessed just hours earlier from that same pair of legs. Of course, this was something that I could never tell my friend.I vowed, somehow, to car pool with her as often as possible.Ah, the Ladies of the Eighties. It was evident where she had learned to pump. Nowadays it's not the same.
"Keep on pumping!"