I mounted the 950HP on the small block, and it was still leaking in the back. Removed it again, and found that I had crimped the steel washer on the inlet fitting. I still had to fix the throttle linkage, which is a solid rod with a threaded heim joint on the end. The new intake changed the geometry just enough to throw everything out of adjustment.
Finally, I pumped it twice and fired the engine. It came to life, with a satisfying thump from the side pipes. The idle was set way too low, and it died. I was pulling myself from the driver's seat when Dale walked up, screwdriver in hand.
"Whatcha doin' here?" he asked
"Getting ready to set the idle".
"Fire it up, I got this..."
I settled back into the seat, with a knowing smile on my face, I knew he couldn't resist...it's just his thing.

Once he was happy with the settings, we shut it down and went to check on Boone who was buttoning up the Barnyard. Darren finally made his entrance as we were gathered around the Dodge.
"Where have you been all day?" Boone questioned, "Thought you were driving up to Neosho to pick up your Dakota?"
"My back is out", Darren gestured, "I can barely walk...someone is going to have to go with me in the morning to pick it up...I can't do it myself".
I kept quiet, but in my head, I was counting the lost man hours we were loosing because someone had to go with him for a full day.
Boone was ready to fire the truck, and begin breaking in the cam, he turned on the A-2000 pump to prime the fuel system, and it growled a few times and locked up solid. The initial inspection revealed the fuel tank was bone dry, which sent Boone into a fury. Dale's place is a hangout for unemployed early Twenty-some things, who come over to visit his stepson, and Boone was quick to point out that the Barnyard had 10 gallons of fuel in it when he brought it over two weeks earlier.