You know what I realized? I haven’t done an Automotive Would You Rather since before my heart exploded! No wonder that happened! Clearly, I’m not doing these nearly enough, so let’s solve that. This week I have a pair of scenarios that both seem to involve foreign objects being lodged inside you, so let’s not spend too much time scrutinizing that, how about? No one will be happy. Let’s just get into it! It’ll be fun! Right? Right?
SCENARIO ONE: The Curse Of Hearing
You’re at the junkyard one weekend afternoon, desperately trying to pull the two-stroke, three-cylinder DKW-style engine out of an old Wartburg Knight you managed to find, improbably wedged between two Oldsmobile Delta 88s. You’re pretty sure the engine will be ideal for the engine-swap project you have in mind, where you’ll stuff it into that old Bentley Arnage you have killing grass on your lawn. The engine is pretty small, for an engine, so you’re pretty sure you can get it out on your own.
You’ve got all the bolts out and this thing should just lift out; you’ve wrapped your arms around it, bear-hug-style, and are heaving and pulling as hard as you can. You’ve already peed yourself from the strain, so you’re well past the point of no return. This engine is coming out!
You give one last good heave, your body ejects a pencil-girthed column of urine out of your pant leg that spatters noisily in the dirt, and then it’s free, the force of your efforts flinging you backwards, where you land, in front of the car, with a heavy thwock. Seconds later you hear a whistling then feel a sharp pain in your ear as one of the spark plugs, launched free by your Herculean efforts to remove the engine, comes shooting down out of the sky and lodges firmly in your ear.
You’re a bit dazed but unhurt; you try to remove the spark plug from your ear but it refuses to budge. It’s in there for good, it seems. As you try to make sense of this, you start to pace, down the aisle of the junkyard, and as you do, you hear a low, calm voice in your ear; it’s telling you what is wrong with every car in the junkyard!
As you walk past each car, a litany of the issues that brought it there are whispered into your ear. You touch the plug, and it pauses, but as soon as you let go, it starts again. You hold a water pump in front of your face, and you hear how much longer the bearings have to go, and what caused the initial failure. You roll a tire into your field of view, and the amount of good remaining miles is whispered. Hold a halogen headlamp bulb, you hear how many hours it has left.
It’s amazing. This spark plug will diagnose any car or part you pause to look at! You’ll never be baffled by a car problem ever again!
As you’re marveling at this, a pair of people walk by. As you gaze at them, the plug starts to tell you what they’re thinking about you when they see you, but, from the sound of it, it’s just the negative things. Alarmed, you run out of the yard and into the street – as you scan around at the various people, you hear every fleeting mean thought or callow criticism they have of you. It gets to be a lot, so you clamp your hand over the spark plug, silencing it, for a while at least.
So, now you have the ability to know what’s wrong with every car or car part you encounter and also have the ability to know what’s wrong with you, at least according to the randos you happen to see.
This is a real monkey’s paw situation here! Is it worth it?
SCENARIO TWO: The Magic Kidney Stones Of That Denny’s In Arizona
You’re on a cross-country road trip with some friends, having the absolute best time. While passing through Tempe, Arizona, you and your pals stop at a Denny’s for a quick meal and bathroom break. When ordering, the waiter mentions that – and this is pretty unusual – they just made a complete Moons Over My Hammy, one of the best he’s ever seen, but they can’t sell it because it was made by an employee who just that moment quit in a huff because she was caught practicing witchcraft, which goes against Denny’s strict no-witchcraft or magick policies.
The waiter doesn’t want to throw it away, because, really, it’s the best he’s ever seen, and it just seems a shame. Would any of you want it, he asks?
Well, the Moons Over My Hammy is your go-to Denny’s meal, and you’re kinda broke, so you say yes! You get the still-hot sandwich, and, damn, the guy was right, it’s the best you ever tasted.
Afterwards, you’re all in the car on the highway, happy and a bit sleepy, and it’s your turn to drive. You’re doing fine, but the warm car and the hypnotic lines of the road conspire to lull you too sleep, causing you to flop forward onto the dash, weight on the gas pedal, launching you and your friends smack into a large billboard pylon on the side of the road.
You feel the initial impact, you hear the screams of your friends and the sickly boom of impact, the rattle of broken glass and then – all of a sudden – you’re all back in the Denny’s parking lot, safe and sound.
Of course, everyone is freaked out. You go to the nearest hospital, but everyone is fine. The car doesn’t even have a scratch! But you, you aren’t exactly as you were before. Lodged in your stomach, worked into the very walls of your gastrointestinal tract, is a bezoar. According to the MRI scan that found it, it’s got trace amounts of ham molecules on it, suggesting it got into your body via the witch’s Moons Over My Hammy.
Normally these are hard lumps of indigestible yuck found in goat stomachs, imbued with magical properties. But this one is in you, and it seems to teleport you and the car you happen to be in, with everyone and everything inside it, to the parking lot of that Tempe, Arizona Denny’s should you ever crash that car. I mean, that’s the theory; panicked, confused, you rush out to the car in the hospital parking lot and smack it at 60 mph into the side of the building.
You then find yourself, just fine, in the Denny’s parking lot.
It seems you can’t be killed in a car wreck, because you’ll just end up back at that Denny’s parking lot. You and anyone with you, if you’re driving. Your friends, once they realize this, insist you drive for the rest of the trip. They start to make TikToks about it, and it’s fun at first, driving the car off cliffs and ending up back at the Denny’s. But then it starts to go viral, and soon Secret Service agents find you while you’re at the Grand Canyon, telling you that you are now a national asset and need to serve your country. They don’t have you come with them then, but they do let you know they’re watching.
Things are getting weird, but you can’t die in any car crash! And, if you need to go to Tempe, it’s free and instant! But is it worth it?
So, what will it be? A spark plug in your ear that tells you useful car diagnoses and mean-spirited jabs from everyone, or a lump in your stomach that whisks you to an Arizona Denny’s if you crash a car? Here’s the poll!
I’ve got enough voices in my head. No room for more. Even if the voice is theoretically useful and leads me towards a future of me living alone in a field of Saabs. As nice as that sounds.
I took the sandwich lump, though I’m a little worried about how much Denny’s I’m going to eat, just out of convenience.
Will my crashed vehicle teleport to Tempe in a renewed, factory-fresh condition? Has Torch cured car cancer?
The Autopian commentariat is cut from a different cloth than most other communities I frequent, as I was expecting at least someone else to say they’d a) take the bezoar and then b) inquire whether the witch who made it was single. Maybe she went to go work at Goth IHOP?
I hate myself all on my own without the use of a spark plug to give me more reasons. Give me the stomach lump. (I wouldn’t keep crashing and filming that, though. No one needs to know.)
Spark Plug of Truth, please. Nobody can think anything about me that I haven’t already thought about myself.
This is how you know Jason’s cardiologist just doubled his painkiller prescription
My first VW bus had a self-ejecting sparkplug. Every 2000 miles or so one plug would work it’s way out and go pop! If remembered to tighten it up before then, all was good. On the way to a kayak trip hauling several folks, kayaks, and gear, we were in the middle of nowhere in eastern Oregon when it happened. My cousin kinda freaked out, but I just calmly went to the back, put the plug back in, fired it up and off we went at 54 MPH max to our destination.
Mine would pitch the fan belt at anything better than a mild grade. The top speed on mine was about the same.
If you have not had an air cooled VW that ejected a spark plug, you have not had and air cooled VW. My type 3 did this a few times before I had threaded sleeves installed all round.
Mine doesn’t eject plugs—it just fouls ’em. We’ve had to pull it in and out so often that I’ve had to resleeve the holes, and one sleeve needs to be redone because it keeps popping out with the plug. Ugh.
I’d be looking at the quality of the heads. I live in Brazil these days and the poor quality of the aluminum casting is a horror here.
If the Spark Plug of Truth can’t be removed, it would definitely drive me mad, both from the negative thoughts of random people and from the need to collect all the unusually good stuff I run across.
The ability to not die in an auto accident sounds nice though. Just have to make sure I’ve got a way to get home from Tempe.
Aaah, but if you moved to Tempe you’d already be home. Problem solved!
Isn’t this would your rather be Mel Gibson in What a Girl Wants with an additional magic mechanical power or Bill Murray in Groundhog Day but only saved from car accidents?
A true test worth waiting for. I go with the truthful sparkplug if…
1. You sure it isn’t from a Ford 5.2 8 cylinders motor as popcorn plugs they are known for?
2. Is it accurate after all defective plug they usually size not pop out.
3. This works in reverse as Mel Gibson in What a Girl Wants shows use it to adapt and get any girl you want and be a perfect lover. Honest criticism can help you improve yourself.
4. With this talent make millions because hire yourself out to auto manufacturers and diagnose problems with a new pre-production car saving billions. Offer diagnostic services for 3rd party parts shipped. Really the sky is the limit
5. The don’t die in a car wreck if you are driving is limited. Really safe cars nowadays and even if you are the worst driver in the world limited.
6. What happens if you are just injured?
7. Don’t have any interest in Tempe but if it is can’t die at all and I get sent to my house or the bedroom of the Olsen Twins where they ravish me well remote. Heck if you are stranded or traveling just kill yourself instead of flying home.
8. In closing before you take this route I suggest a viewing of Bill Murray’s Groundhog Day. While he was saved from any death and this poor breakfast only saves from car accidents where you die and are driving it teaches.
9. What happens if you are walking and get hit by a car?
Really the Hammy Sammy is only good for a useless doofus making internet coin off of poor lonely people who watch terrible internet reels.
That spark plug would have saved me thousands of dollars on my rag tag fleet over the years. So far, I haven’t needed the wreck rescue. Ear plug please.
SparkPlug. Get highly paid by motorsport teams to immediately diagnose and predict failures, (e.g. tires have 10 laps left) and always be right.
I think I’m pretty immune to random people’s thoughts. Most people are idiots, what do they know?
I have a question about the Denny’s scenario – does this apply to all vehicles, or just that specific car?
Crash a motorcycle – dead. Crash a plane – dead. Crash your old crappy 2018 Altima – alive and in Tempe.
Honestly, that’s kind of a wash.
Jason, glad you are feeling better because I for one missed these exercises in weirdness. Going sparkplug of truth on this one, I suppose I can always cover that ear if the voices get to be too much but the upsides are undeniable in my career field (mechanical maintenance and engineering) and hobbies. Plus, I have no desire to be anywhere near Tempe AZ.
The Denny’s sandwich is like the rewind feature in Forza. Sign me up!
Meh, the things fools on the street think about me will never be worse than my internal monologue, but my Peugeot has been sitting broken for more than a year and I can’t figure out the latest issue so no question, spark plug for me!
As I’m working on pulling a blown engine & installing a used one, I’d freakin love to have that spark plug telling me exactly what I need to replace on the ‘new’ unit.
implications: does it tell you what that idiot looking at you from across the intersection is actually going to do?
The spark plug of truth; there is no downside because I already think shockingly terrible things about myself so nothing anyone else thinks could even come close.
Fun fact: I have always kinda wanted a Moons of My Hammy but have never had one because I refuse to order foods with a novelty name. This is yet another example of ruining my own life with weird yet intractable riles.
The MOMH is actually rather awesome even if weirdly named. The caveat for me is that it’s a lot of food for one sitting, so I learned not to indulge before something quiet & sedentary like a play
Its been awhile since I ate at Denny’s, so portions may have changed
Totally wrong it is likely to put you to sleep so a perfect meal before a play for anything without a talented cast. Use your kids lousy 4 th grade play to catch up on your sleep.
And I never thought 2 eggs 2 sausage patties and 2 pieces if toast was a big meal. At a since closed restaurant for the same price you could get 2 eggs a huge chicken fried steak, sausage gravy, about 2 big potatoes worth of home fries, 2 pieces of toast yor choice I went Texas or sourdough. With drink under $10 but I always added a $5 tip because this is not charging enough
That $10 meal you mentioned would be two big ones for me: I like being a bit scrawny cause it’s less weight for my tired knees and crappy cars to carry. Plus, I realized it’s been 20 years since I ate there regularly, so I really shouldn’t have commented at all
Re: your fun fact, I generally just shorten it to the first word of the novelty name, or at least the most distinctive word. As a certified hater of whimsy, it balances the absurd thing they want me to say with my desire to consume said thing.
The Southern Slam was a far better breakfast. The hammy slammy is a ham and cheese omelet.
And Dennys doesn’t allow substitutions. No waffle or home fries instead of pancakes. And they don’t have chicken fried steak the best of all breakfast meats.
The Snarkplug sounds like two benefits. If deployed subtly, its specific powers would be quite useful is most business settings.
Yes, I’m moving into a more senior management role (engineering) and this would be an invaluable asset.
Well, I have to go with the bezoar. Mostly because I get a sandwich out of it…
I’m not sure how many people want to move to Tempe, but I’ll probably find out.
Tempe could become the world’s largest international shipping port. Just fly Jason anywhere in the world, load a freight truck and let him wreck it. Boom.
He can crash a container ship. Suddenly Amazon is undercut by Torichicrash Heavy Industries, SpA
I want to see a container ship just appear in the middle of Arizona with a chipper if befuddled Jewish Gimli at the helm.
It’d be like something out of “Welcome to Night Vale.”
Reading the headline: ok, where does the spark plug go? Reading the article: ok, no electricity involved and could be a worse choice of orifice, but detrimental to mental health. So sandwich it is, although I have no personal experience of these things you call ”Denny’s” or ”Tempe”. If I understand the rules, I could even start a cross atlantic shipping business. Discount Instant Wartburg Teleports, inc.
I’m going for the sparkplug for sure since I already imagine people saying bad shit about me all the time. It’ll be nice to know I’m not imagining it any longer.
And I’ll get rich instantly diagnosing cars with the sureness only a true know it all asshole can normally muster. Imagine the fortune to be made diagnosing European cars. Fun for sure.
Actually I’m a delight and have no concern what lesser people think of me. Unless I am trying to sleep, or it is a mass humdrum of noise, like my tinnitus as a Genx nothing anyone thinks of me, Unless I respect their opinion, is going to hurt my feelings. Really the whole sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me is a true mantra. Get hit by sticks and stones afterwards getting called a boogerface isn’t that bad. Heck I’ve been called worse on this site and I couldn’t tell you what I was called or by who. I do recall a few members and staff sticking up for me, thanks guys, but really who said what or why? No idea.
I choose witchcraft. I’ll open a logistics company that specialises in importing stuff to the US, buy one ticket to anywhere in the world, load it all up in a big ass truck and BAM, back at that Denny’s.
Eventually I’ll buy the place, learn which part of the soil is the homing part, so I can move the spawning point as I see fit.
I chose the sparkplug, but I hadn’t though of international trafic. Now I need to search if there is a tempe-medellin airline…
But only you can do it. So Sunday you fly how many hours to Germany, crash the truck bad enough to kill you, pop up in Tempe in an illegal German licensed truck and have to transfer the contents. What do you do with the truck? How do you get new trucks overseas. Even still Tempe doesn’t have an International airport so hours to get to the airport fly for how many hours across the oceans and do it again. What’s that 1 shipment a day? Going out would be better. The only thing that would work would be illegal products and then short lived until you are sold out. Can’t crash a car in prison.
Well, we’re assuming we need an actual, licensed truck to do it, but what if any dumb contraption on wheels can do the job? I can sell off the container itself as scrap.
You got me thinking about the paper trail for the goods, though, and every solution I can think of either requires a front business that leave me open to legal issues, or negates any advantage of having instant travel back.
Other than contraband, volume is the only thing that justifies the operation, as in Evergrande-like volume. But that on itself will attract unwanted attention, no matter what I’m shipping…
I think I will just (very publicly) surrender to the govt and work for NASA. Send me to the moon with a foldable trolley and I’ll crash that thing as soon as I finish loading it. Never worry about re-entry again!
Agreed I was just thinking spur of the moment. But your Evergrand comment made me think. What if i crash a freighter? More freight but still is it any crash or just a death crash.
I would guess the bezoar is activated by g force on deceleration, so “recovering” a car or truck should be easier than recovering a massife ship – unless it doesn’t care the vector of the force, in which case a demolition ball on the bridge could transport the Evergrande to Denny’s. And that would be a whole lot of issues, scrapping one of those is a major PITA.
I think we should track that witch down to get some more data in this.
Spark plug of truth. I’m here for it. I don’t want to live forever.
And especially not in Tempe.
It only saves you if you are driving and the accident kills you. Die another way you dead.