MR2 Update: Sisyphian Prophecies

I talk about the car a lot, mostly cause it is original content, otherwise its just kinda slow. I had mentioned to a colleague earlier that day that the car had become something of an allegory to the pains Sisyphus would have endured. Little did I know that little allegorical drop into Greek myth would prove to be something of a prophecy.

The parts I needed to continue the work came in. Specifically, some new NGK spark plugs and new OEM cables. The cable from the distributor was all kinds of hosed, both not fitting right and suffering from just being cheap. Replacing it gave me consistent spark to the car, but it still would not start.

I had fuel too. The exhaust reeked of it. (Yes, I sniffed the tail pipe).
So, disappointed by a non-start but cautiously optimistic that there was progress being made, I removed all the plugs. And upon examining them, it was discovered that the spark plugs were literally dripping in gasoline. That follows considering there hasn't been proper spark to the car for awhile.

I replaced them with the NGK spec plugs Toyota recommends. And after a few false starts, the car struggles to life. I am thrilled.

After idling the car for awhile and slowly becoming confident that things are worked out through careful examination, I pull the car out. The parking cable I thought I properly calibrated is only 20% there- but still manageable. It took a ominous 15 degree incline to make that apparent.

Disaster is afoot.

So confident at this point am I that I offer to take the intrepid co-pilot Krusty on for a car ride (he's actually really well trained for this sort of thing). But upon putting him in the car I recall an error I made in the last trip. I didn't really secure the rear supports. They still aren't 100% secure.
Not again.

So I head back in to do it proper and button it up completely.

"Why aren't we going?"

So I take the dog in. Finish that work up. Pull the car back out and accidentally flood the car letting off the clutch in reverse to hold her on the incline. "Ooops" I think to myself over that inglorious sputter. It's not serious... right?

I grab Chip, cause he's excited, or perhaps just neglected. And put him in the car and crank it over. No dice.

Again. No dice.

Again. No dice.

Please? No dice.

Chip licks me, happy to be on a car ride.

The light dying outside and getting furtive glances from the neighborhood that my paranoid mind is painting as all potential car thieves, I was faced with having to troubleshoot it fast. At this point, I can't even roll up the windows to the car.
It's just a flooded engine... right? I keep asking myself that, not familiar with how to fix it. It was getting spark... timing is dead on... and the exhaust smells like gas.

But no. With every crank the car rolls a precipitous fraction of an inch forward and into the street and further away from my light and tools.

Like poor Sisyphus, despite the initial success, the car had to be pushed up the faint incline that made the car feel so much heavier than what it was. In fact, the tractor had to be pulled out to push and pull it most of the way.