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You know, Jimmy, it's really OK - you're among friends here.
There's no reason at all to be inventing this story about a run away throttle and a broken camshaft.
We all know what happened and can relate.
You're building the biggest, baddest mill ever and then, at the end, are having doubts about whether you're going too far. The hot cam sounds like the icing on the cake, but is it too much? Will you forever be stuck with a lumpy idle and a cold-nosed shrew that's impossible to start? You played it safe with the milder cam, figuring that was the adult thing to do.
But then the day of reckoning. The first time you backed it out of the barn and put your boot into it, you knew.
Coulda, woulda, shoulda.
It needed the hotter cam like chips need salsa.
I will grant you that this story you've made up does check most of the boxes. It neatly explains how nothing else in the innards got tweaked or busted and that the only thing needed for wholesome perfection now is - well, I'll be - a new cam!
What tipped me off was laying all the blame on the SyncLink - a work of godly perfection that might just as well have been handed to us by Moses on the mount. I think a more plausible fall guy would have been practically anything else in the linkage - you must have some crudely finished EMPI bits in there somewhere.
At any rate, the worst is behind you now. No one's seriously questioning your story, and we're all on your side.
Isn't it funny how we never lie awake at two in the morning sweating over the throttle response on the Camry? Could it be just a little crisper? Should I look into cleaning the throttle bodies?
Never happens.
But, ah, Jimmy, these funny little cars weigh on our minds, don't they?
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