Pick a card, any card.” Groans and protests flew like pigeons after bread crumbs. “Geez, Toon, give it a rest! You’re never gonna get that trick right.”
Tooner’s nose twitched as he concentrated on the playing cards spread before him. “I got ’er this time, boys, I promise. Just pick one – you’ll be amazed.”
Reluctantly, Quigley reached for a card. “Now what?” he asked, holding it close to his chest.
Tooner gathered up the deck, shuffled ferociously, and then held the cards up for scrutiny. “Uh, hold on a minute…” His beady eyes bounced from side to side as he scanned the cards frantically. The cheap plastic clock on the wall ticked loudly as the seconds dragged on.
“Ah, the 10 of hearts…mebbe?”
“Not even close.” Quigley snorted and threw down the ace of diamonds.
Tooner gasped. “I don’t get it. That magician guy made it look so easy!”
Ever since Tooner and his wife had returned from their anniversary cruise to Alaska, he’d been raving about the onboard nightly magic show. He’d even wheedled some private lessons from the master himself on the sun deck. But magicians aren’t fools; sleight of hand is their bread and butter. Most likely the guy hadn’t really revealed a single one of his tricks. Either that or Tooner was a lousy student.
Tooner changed gears and pulled out an old bungee cord. “Lemme show ya this rope trick…”
Basil got to his feet. “Sorry, my good man, but duty calls. I believe we have a backlog of work in the shop that isn’t going to magically disappear.”
I dropped my coffee mug into a sink full of lukewarm water. “You read my mind, Bas. Tooner, bring in Marty’s Dakota. The A/C’s low again and he wants an answer this time.”
“Sheesh,” said Beanie, crumpling up his lunch bag and tossing it into the garbage can. “Isn’t that the third time it’s been back for a recharge?”
“Fourth,” I corrected. “It’s time for a proper diagnosis.”
Tooner scowled. “There’s somethin’ spooky ‘bout that A/C system. I ain’t never seen refrigerant escape like that and not leave a trace – ‘specially with all the dye I’ve put in there.”
Marty Freeman’s 2004 Dodge Dakota SLT pickup certainly was a mystery. He’d bought it used, so we had no history on this A/C problem. But every four to six months, the truck would return with a low charge condition, and with no sign of the detection dye we’d installed on the previous fill.
Sometime later I found Tooner standing as still as a statue, glaring at Marty’s truck as he flipped the leak detector on and off. The self-check beeps were really annoying.
“I can’t see no leaks nowhere,” he muttered. “I’ve checked the compressor seal six ways ‘til Sunday, eye-balled the service ports with a magnifyin’ glass, and crawled over every inch of tubing I can get to. I might get half a squawk from the evaporator drain hose, but that’s about it.”
I frowned. “How about a vacuum test? Let’s evacuate it, pull it down overnight and then recheck it in the morning.”
Tooner complied, but not without protest. “It might show there’s a leak, but it ain’t gonna show me where!”
The next day, Tooner was more confused than ever. “Yesterday I sucked the system down to 27 inches and this morning it’s still at 27! Is this thing really leakin’ or is it just my imagination?”
Basil wandered over, coffee mug in hand. “Gentlemen, let’s discuss the evidence before us.”
Tooner looked confused. “What evidence?”
Basil shrugged. “Well, first off, we know the system has a leak because it loses refrigerant on a consistent basis. We just need to apply the process of elimination. If you’ve checked everything humanly possible to locate a leak in the visible areas, then we have to assume the leak is in an area that is not visible – at least not from where we are currently standing.”
Tooner frowned. “That’s what worries me. According to you, the next step means I’ll be standing on my head under the dashboard.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean by that?”
He sighed. “The forums are all sayin’ Dodge has issues with their evaporators, but of course, they’re buried inside the plenum. Now, from what I’m seeing I’m inclined to agree, but the sniffer won’t confirm it and there ain’t no other way of knowin’ without pullin’ the dash apart.”
“Precisely,” said Basil. He put a hand on Tooner’s shoulder. “We are not magicians, my friend, and as much as our customers might like to think otherwise, we can’t do the impossible.”
He waved his coffee mug in the air. “Our research tells us that Dodge has problems in this area, and our observations have ruled out all the other aspects that we know of. So if the customer wants us to take it further, then this is the next step.”
“He’s right, Toon,” I said. “We have to tell Marty that it’s time to open up the evaporator housing and either find the dye, or prove it’s not there. The decision is his.”
Tooner frowned. “I know, I know. I just hate recommending somethin’ I ain’t 100% sure of.”
In the end, Marty gave us the go ahead to invade the insides of his dashboard.
What we found was an evaporator core caked with dirt – dye-colored dirt, no less. That explained why none of the dye had made it out to the drain hose, and hence to our leak detector.
Marty shook his head as he handed over his credit card. “I’m impressed with your deductive skills, Slim. I know you guys are good at your job, but sometimes I think you’re more like magicians!”
I laughed. “Not magicians, Marty; just technicians. In fact, if you want proof that we can’t do magic, then step right this way. Tooner has a card trick he’d like to show you.”