Back around 1970 I had a summer job driving new school buses from the factory in North Carolina up to New England to their dealers. Usually the buses were GM or Ford based, which had governors on them holding you below 60mph, but once in a while we would get an International Harvester with no governor. We would fly down, getting to Highpoint, NC, around 10pm, check out the bus and hit the road, driving straight through and getting back to Massachusetts by 6pm the next night.
One time I got not only an International Harvester, but with a 455 cubic inch V8 to boot. "Whoo-Hoo! This bus is gonna FLY!" I thought when I checked it out.
Only that didn't happen. THIS bus couldn't pull your hat off. THIS bus could barely get to 50mph. THIS bus had a really hard time pulling up anything steeper than a mild hill. "HOLY CARP!" I thought (we said things like "Holy Carp" back then)......This thing Sucks! At this rate, it'll take me two or three DAYS to get home!
The other two guys with me, each in his own bus to be delivered, hung in with me for a while, but when it seemed like it was moving OK, albeit slowly, they chose to drive on at their own speed and I was left alone. Me and the darkness and my BIG Honkin' IH bus with no balls.
One of our regular gas stops was at a big truck stop in Troutville, Virginia on I-81, and we usually got there around 3 am. I came limping in just after 4 am, fueled up and pulled over to the side of the parking area, under a light. Just for the hell of it, I thought I would take a look under the hood to see if anything was obviously wrong, so I pop the hood and look in to see something that looked like "Fourth of July" fireworks - There are sparks flying all over the place! Most of them were between plug wires and the engine had this strange rocking going on.
So I write down what I see as a firing order and walk way over to the Truck Service area and find one of the mechanics, a scruffy-looking guy with a greasy, beat-up "Caterpillar" hat on and sporting maybe three, tobacco-stained teeth and I say, "Does anyone here know the firing order of an International Harvester 455 V-8"? The guy looks me up and down (obviously, one of them "Yankee" kids with them Bermuda shorts and Topsiders on) and with a thick southern drawl says; "IH don't make no 455. Them engines come from Buick. Why? Whussa matter?"
"Well, I checked mine and the plugs are wired 1-5-4-2-6-3-7-8 and there are sparks shooting all over the place and it's rockin' funny."
"Well, no wunner! That's all screwed up! Them plug wires are set for a Ford 352! That thing's gonna run like F' ing $#!+ !"
"Well, no kidding......It DOES run like $#!+ ! Can't get outa it's own way! You guys got a book that tells me what they should be?"
"Book!........Fer Whut? All ya gotta do is set'em up for 1-8-4-3-6-5-7-2 That should do it."
So I'm standing there, looking at this scruffy southern dude, who just gave me the firing order for an International Harvester V8 in a school bus, right off the top of his head. Granted, it was a Buick engine and I guess that everyone down South knows everything there is to know about GM/Buick engines, but, Geez.....Ya know?
Just like that? Off the top of his head?
This ain't no NASCAR race car, it's a friggin SCHOOL BUS!
So I write his firing order down and trudge back to the bus, which is now cooled enough to let me change the plug wire order without getting as burned as before. I get back in and start it up. It runs. Perfectly. With no rocking. And no sparks.
The scruffy Southern Dude is a friggin' GENIUS!
So I take a couple of swigs of Mountain Dew and head out, but drive over close to the Service Area and give him a big smile and a toot on the horn (which as I remember, was THE most anaemic horn, ever).
"LIGHT 'EM UP!" I hear him yell as I head towards the highway..........
And "light 'em up" I did. You ever see a school bus cruise at 80?