I`m at the quack`s; and if there`s one thing I hate it`s being `doctored`. If it isn`t my weight he attacks it`s my drinking and, of course, he`ll always have a go at my smoking. “I bet you wouldn`t treat your truck`s engine the way you treat your engine – that body”, he will say, waving a pointing finger between my chest and stomach. To which I tell him that I need to treat my truck well because everyone else is trying to destroy it. “I bet you wouldn`t accept food additives the way we have to accept the stuff they put in diesel”, I say, ensuring the argument comes to a spluttering halt.
But this time it`s different. Obviously frustrated by the failure of his previous efforts and apparently intent on taking the argument to a new level, he tries, “If it makes the engine run better, then it`s for your own good. Just like the benefits of a more wholesome intake that you need to be trying”.
Without further debate I relate to him this story:
In 1959 a US B52 bomber dropped unexpectedly out of the sky. As it went into an uncontrolled dive from 36,000ft to 8,000ft in less than a minute it exceeded the speed of sound and began to break up. Four of the eight man crew managed to eject but only the co-pilot survived. The cause of the tragedy – a life form so small it takes a microscope to see it, yet so catastrophic that to this day it remains a menace to planes, ships, trains and leisure boats And, given the chance, to trucks.
“I suppose this life form was somehow connected with the lifestyles of these airmen”, he scoffs. “Don`t tell me, had they smoked they would have been all right”.
“It`s a fuel bug I'm talking about, and in our case, Diesel Bug”, I tell him. “A diesel engine`s worst enemy. It clogs filters and secretes acid that can eat the innards of my fuel pump and injectors. It`s a cancer that can spread throughout the body of an engine, eventually even wrecking it completely”.
He looks at me closely, searching my face and eyes for any hint of mischief. “Cancer is a different matter all together and not something to be taken at lightly; it`s a prolific killer”, he says. “Do you know how many people a week I have to tell they have the disease? Too many, that`s how many. Just like your engine, If only people looked more at what they put in their bodies. Less processed food, a more natural intake, and no fags, that`s all it would take for some people; they`d be so much better off".
“How”? I hear myself saying.
“Well, they`d live longer for a start”.
“But living longer isn`t necessarily good, not for the planet or the individual, surely? Aren`t there too many people in the world already; and too many vegetating old people? Besides”, I continue, “it`s the bio, supposedly good stuff their bunging in diesel that`s making the situation worse for engines. It eventually deposits water and that`s exactly what the bug wants; it lives on the interface between diesel and water. You can`t address some problems without creating significant new ones, that`s what I think. Maybe there`s a lesson here: you shouldn`t confuse `ideal` with what, in reality, is best”.
And then he tells me this story:
A man went to see his doctor for a check-up. He was a middle aged man with a wife who was always complaining they couldn`t afford a decent holiday like some of their better off friends. It transpired that the man smoked 60 cigarettes a day. The doctor reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a calculator. Within a minute of tapping away at its keys he held out the machine so the man could read the figure displayed. There, he said, that`s what you spend each year on cigarettes. You could afford two weeks in the Caribbean on that much money, all you have to do is give up smoking.
“And I suppose he quit the habit”, I say, raising my eyes to the ceiling.
“Not quite”, Doc says. “He said, yes, but for the other 50 weeks of the year I`d be f*****g miserable”.
