Thursday, September 18, 2025
Walkie told us to return in the morning so he could install a new air filter and clean the sensors. He called in an order for the filter yesterday, saying it would be delivered about 9:00. We arrived at 9:45. I wondered how he could get reliable deliveries in his remote location on Fire Tower Road.
It was a little cooler this morning – about 60 degrees. His garage door was closed, so I walked around to the side door admiring an old Ford truck parked beside it. The shop was warm and soft music was playing. Two trucks were parked inside and Walkie slid out from under the one on the right. I told him to finish what he was doing, but he said, “I got the filter. Let’s go put it in.”
I asked why he doesn’t have a lift or two. “I can’t because the floor is heated. Besides I like working on the floor. Keeps me limber.” He grabbed the filter and an old, wire milk grate to which he had neatly attached a board. He used that as his step stool.
Outside I popped the hood. He went to work loosening the cover as he explained what he was doing. “Big engine like this needs air, a lot of air. Restrict the air and she won’t burn right. We’ll clean the sensors. They can get dirty too.” I asked if we could just take all this stuff off. “Sure, we do it all the time. The military trucks don’t have it. Many state and police trucks don’t have it. Imagine a military truck in combat and it suddenly gets throttled back like yours because a sensor was dusty.”
He replaced the filter and tore off the label from the box and handed it to me. “You should do this regularly.” He went inside to get a can of spray sensor cleaner. I should have videoed the whole thing. He was talking while he removed three or four sensors and sprayed them all. “These things get dust and dirt in them and should be cleaned every time you change the filter.” I took the old filter and the box inside and put them in the trash in the back of the shop. There were cans of Stella Artois in the bottom.
I had wondered if changing a air filter could solve my problem, but Walkie was changing my mind. He said, “These things add up. Could be several things that lead to the overall problem. We’ll test it and see if the codes come back. If not, we’ll have to run the exhaust clean program. I hate to do it, because it runs the engine so hard.”
He hooks up his computer to the truck and starts it. “Using a computer to talk to the truck’s computer! Crazy isn’t it?” He deleted the codes. Although I was standing right next to him, I couldn’t read the screen, but the computer reads the codes and gives suggestions for treatment. Every time he deleted them, the codes came back.
Throttling back power.
Check engine light.
Door open.
Hood up.
“Well we are going to have to do a regen. If that doesn’t solve it, you will have to take it to a dealer.” “OK, I said. As he started it, I told him they did that after they installed the catalytic converter. “Oh,” he said. The regeneration runs the engine, building to 2600 rpm’s. He went around back to check the exhaust. “Sometimes smoke will come pouring out.”
This was about a 20-minute procedure as Walkie thumbed through the computer looking for readings for exhaust carbon content, but couldn’t find it. “GMC won’t give people like me the software. I can use generic software, but it doesn’t tell me everything. Ford gives us all the software. Dodge doesn’t give us the software either. I like Ford. They have their problems too, but at least I have access to all the tools.”
As we sat waiting, I asked him about the Ford truck next to the door. Sometimes a truck passes the beaten-up look and goes into a level of respect just because you know it has endured a lot. “That’s my truck,” he said. “It’s an ’03. It has 400,000 miles on it. That rust is what all the salt does to it. I drive it every day – use it for plowing snow too.” It too was a diesel.
I asked how he learned all this stuff. So many mechanics come from dealers. “My dad was a mechanic, had a shop. I learned from him and many of the old timers.” He’s a very neat mechanic. His yard is clean and neat. The shop is clean. His work on the bench and under the hoods is neat and clean.
Finally the regen was complete, and he cleared all the codes. “Take it for a drive and see if they come back. He shoved the computer on the dash and went in the shop. I hesitated backing up, wondering if he was coming with me. I started to back out when he came out of the shop and got into the passenger seat.
“Let’s go down through Bayfield and back up the other side. There’s a steep hill over there.” Apple orchards were on both sides of the road. “You don’t want to be here during the Apple Harvest Festival. Way too many people.” As we passed by the little town, he said, “Look at all the people. Wonder what’s going on.” We went up the steep hill with ease, no engine light, no throttling back. I told him we had seen 9 turkeys this morning. “We have lots of turkeys, and more every year.”
“Turn at the trash can. That’s my road.” I was grinning as we pulled up to the shop, giving him a fist bump. “Well, it could come back, but you’ll be here for a few days. Just come back if the problem continues.” I asked how much I could pay him. “I’ll just charge one hour – $150,” he said. “Well, that’s not enough,” I replied. “That’s enough.”
It was now 11:30 or so. That’s four and a half hours including yesterday, not to mention letting me watch while he was teaching like a college professor! I had given Martha all the cash I had. She had been sitting comfortable in the back of the shop the whole time. She said it was in the truck. so I went out to get $300, adding another $40 from my wallet. I grabbed the two six-packs of Stella Artois and went back in.
I didn’t see Walkie, but Martha said he went out back to open the dumpster. He has had a bear getting into it, so he put a bar across it. I gave him the cash and Stella, thanking him profusely. Looking at the Stella, he said, “Maybe I’ll start on it now.” I waived and smiled as we left. I felt like I was walking away from a good friend.
We drove into Bayfield, thinking we could make the 12:00 cruise, but the wind was so bad, they were cancelling. Very nice people in there. I especially liked the guy for his understated humor. I asked if Captain Gilligan was going out tomorrow. That was not the captain’s name, just what he called that cruise because it was an old boat, taking twice the time to do the cruise. I asked him for a lunch recommendation. Never looking up from the computer work he was doing, he said Manypenny Bistro, “because they have a variety of things.”
Oddly, we had parked right beside it. After much deliberation, we ordered a 10” pizza, called “The Works”, a beer and coffee. Martha asked the young waiter if it would be enough. “Oh yes.” Perhaps he thought it was just for Martha. Best pizza I have ever had….. well, there was a deep dish pizza in Chicago years ago. It had pepperoni, Italian sausage, onion, mushrooms, green olives and mozzarella. Then he put down a nicely-organized box of condiments. Martha put red pepper on hers, while I used parmesan.
Across the street, we looked around a cute little shop, buying a candle, a card and chewing gum.
We were relieved to be through with this truck problem. Of course it could come back, but I doubt it. Really, I got a little choked up thinking about it. What a special guy he was! How did we stumble onto him? Martha said, “Well we might as well go get the oil changed.” Walkie had recommended Quick Lube or Walmart. He couldn’t do it because he didn’t have a lift. “Also stop at Ron’s Auto Repair, but he’s busy.
We came to Ron’s first. There was a graveyard of ancient vehicles scattered around a yard that was very cool. Going up one more driveway, we came to the shop. There was a whole lineup of all sorts of vehicles. I knew we had no chance. As we walked toward the garage, Ron met us. “Can I help you?” I asked if he could do an oil change, and he said, “Come on in and let’s see.”
A man sat in a line of chairs, and a lady in a separate room looked up. I greeted both as Ron thumbed through his scheduling book, sighing. “Can you come on the 30th?” We said we would only be here three days. He thumbed and sighed some more. We said we understand, and did he have a suggestion, telling him Walkie had sent us here along with his other suggestions. He smiled at the name and said to try “Superior” first.
He walked us back out. I stared at a nice, little sailboat beside the shop. “A guy dropped that here, leaving a note to fix the brakes on the trailer. Didn’t matter when we got to it. A lady left that golf cart. She’s an attorney. I told her we don’t work on golf carts, but she said ‘you will mine.’”
In Ashland we drove main street, looking for Superior Auto, but only found it on the second pass. Mike greeted us, asking how he could help. I asked if they could do an oil change on this diesel truck. He looked quite perplexed, finally saying, “Well I won’t be able to put it on the lift with that kayak on top.” I told him that was no problem, we can take it off. “OK, pull it around back.” I drove around back. Before I could get out of the truck a young man was on the back loosening the straps. I took the other one off and he picked up the kayak and handed it to me. Martha and I both grabbed it and set it down. He hopped down and set the ties on the ground.
Another man, Greg, came out to drive onto the lift. I said Hi Greg and said that’s why he’s such a handsome guy. “Liar,” he smiled. Before I knew it, the truck was on the rack, so we walked through the 3-bay shop to the office. “What kind of oil have they been putting in,” he asked. “I don’t know.” I asked him to put the best stuff in. He suggested a synthetic that would last 10,000 miles, and I agreed. Staring at windshield wipers on the wall, I asked him to put those on. He grabbed two and took them to his workers.
Several people came in for work or to schedule work. Everyone seemed to know Mike, and he knew them. Several packages came, a receipt exchanged, and they were gone. Mike likes to fish, putting in on several bays. He said it was quiet, peaceful out there on the water, cruising between the islands. He catches lake trout, brown trout and salmon, though not many salmon, and they’re not too bit, maybe 30”! The brown trout can be 30” or more and taste as good as the small ones. He also catches large brook trout, “Coasters, you know.”
In short order they were done. I thanked Mike very much, paid the bill and walked through the shop. The kid had already put the kayak on the rack. We talked as I tightened the back strap. He is a duck hunter. The mostly shoot wood ducks and geese. “We have a lot of geese….and swans. Can’t shoot the swans though.” I turned around and he had gone back to work.
My goodness, I thought as we drove back in a truck that was running great and oil that was good for 10,000 miles. My GMC dealer has me back every 5,000 miles. We passed a national wildlife preserve and stopped at a historic marker about Madeline Island and how it was named. We took a “wrong turn”, driving “The Fruit Loop,” with apple orchards, blueberry farms, cherry farms and wineries, seeing another 9 turkeys. What a great day it was!
