You drive back from the mighty DFW Metrosprawl and get to the Compound a little after noon, and what do you see? A veritable river heading down to the street by the side of the house. What? Is the AC exhaust going turbo, is there some kind of mains leak?
Good questions, so you exfil the rig to have a recce. Sure enough, water is bubbling up outta the ground, right where the boys installed a couple of clean outs. You stare at this, entranced by the cool water flowing up to water the earth. How beautiful, but this isn't some blessed, newfound aquifer, no, it's an aquatic disaster. Just picture, if you will, the mains meter spinning out of control, as if USGOV debt.
Problem. Solution? A neighbor drives up in his lifted Chevy, "What's up, man?" and you point to the watery adversary. He takes this in, a plumber, and says, "I'll dig that up and fix it. First I'll turn off the water at the mains with my cut off," which he did.
Some 30 or 40 minutes later we'd located a burst pipe, hose attached to PVC and split at the joint, and D produced some relevant SHARK BITE fittings, right sized PVC tube, and fixed the line. Utter disaster averted, and I asked, "How much do we owe you?" He replied, "Nothing." I shook his hand, "Appreciate you, brother," and that I do; you'll be glad to know I let him park his rigs in the church car park, gratis.
At the time of writing, this line holds. And there is a moral in this short story of country life in Texas, if you care to draw it.
Your Old Pal,
LSP
