Milwaukee Fuel Line Review:
The first thing you need to know about Milwaukee Fuel Line is that it’s a very good one. There are many brands out there, but they all have their own unique characteristics and qualities.
You might think that since Milwaukee is so well known, everyone would make a better product than what they do now. However, if you look at the history of Milwaukee, they’ve always been ahead of the game when it comes to making quality products. They’re not just selling their gasoline anymore, they’re also making other products such as lubricants and cleaning supplies.
So why do they continue to sell inferior products?
Well, because it works!
If you read reviews from customers, you’ll see that most people don’t like the Milwaukee brand of gas. Some say it tastes bad or doesn’t burn cleanly.
Others complain about leaking nozzles and broken valves. Still others claim that the Milwaukee line is too expensive compared to competitors. The reason for these complaints is due to the fact that they haven’t improved much over the years. If anything, they’ve gotten worse.
In fact, I recently had a customer call me and tell me that she was having problems with her car’s fuel system after replacing her carburetor. She claimed that the problem was caused by a leaky fuel filter on her tank.
When I asked her if she replaced it, she told me “No!” When I asked why, she told me she had replaced it with a new Milwaukee Fuel and Filter because she likes the brand. Since I’m pretty familiar with the problems these systems can cause, I asked her if she was sure she installed it correctly. She assured me that she did everything by the book per the instructions on the package. Since she wasn’t willing to show me the instructions, I told her I thought I should come over just to make sure everything was okay.
When I got there, she had already replaced the tank with a new one and the old one was strapped down on her trailer hitch. In my opinion, she shouldn’t have been driving her car in that condition.
I was too embarrassed to ask for a ride, so I just followed her to her house and took a look at the old tank. The first thing I noticed was that it wasn’t a Fuel brand tank; it was a Fuel Filter. In fact, the package clearly showed instructions on how to replace the fuel filter on a car.
She really didn’t think that she had installed it backwards?
I told her that she probably should contact the manufacturer about this, but I don’t think she will. She was pretty upset about this and I didn’t blame her.
I left a business card on her kitchen table because I felt that she needed someone to talk to after this experience. I knew the dangers of driving a car with a backwards fuel system, but the lady seemed to be in shock.
I also mentioned that she should contact the company that made the Milwaukee Fuel system because they might have an explanation or at least some liability. That’s when she started to cry.
In any case, I’m just glad that I’m selling the Fuel brand and not the Milwaukee brand. Besides, it saves me time and money not having to order parts all the time.
Well, time to head to the hardware store to get some more bolts. I’m not going to be able to restock my store until next week.
Things have been slow lately as usual, but I did get an interesting call the other day. It was from a man claiming to be with the C.I.A.
He said he was looking for a job and wanted to know if I was hiring. I didn’t really know what to say because it’s not every day you get a call like that. He told me that he had been working on a top secret operation and that his group had been dissolved. He also mentioned something about the Cold War being over. I told him that if he wanted a job, he could have one, but he would have to get a regular haircut. After all, we want to keep a professional image around here.
He showed up the next day with a crew cut. Just as I thought, he was no older than twenty-five.
I remember being that age and wanting to be a spy when I joined the Air Force. After four years of service, all I got to do was help out on a base that tested missiles. It was pretty boring most of the time, but I guess it was exciting seeing those missiles fly downrange every now and then. The best part of the job was selling missiles to our so-called enemies. That’s where my love and dedication for this business came from.
After giving him the grand tour, I gave him a set of keys to the store and explained the different products that we sell. I told him to read up on them and if he had any questions, not to hesitate to ask.
He was kind of quiet, but I figured it was just because he was new and getting familiar with everything.
A couple months went by and business was as usual. I noticed that he wasn’t really interacting with the customers or making an effort to get to know them.
I can’t be a hermit working by myself, so I try to be social, even when I’m not in the mood to do so. He didn’t seem too interested in doing that either. I guess he saw his job as purely selling parts and only selling parts.
About six months into his employment, I noticed that he had been working slower. It usually takes me a month to get all of my orders out, but it was taking him two.
I started getting complaints from customers that he was rude over the phone. If he wasn’t on the phone, he was locked in the office and when he did come out, it was to just get more parts.
One day he didn’t show up and I had to go get a spare key from the lockbox and let myself in. I knew something was wrong when I heard the phone ring.
I ran over to it as fast as I could and got it just before it went to the answering machine. It was a woman and she started yelling at me about her husband being missing for three days now. I tried to calm her down and asked if he was taking any medication. She said she didn’t know, but that he had a scar on his right thigh from an operation when he was a kid.
I told her I would do everything possible to find him and reassured her that he wasn’t just out having fun and to stay calm. I hung up the phone and noticed that my new employee hadn’t even made his bed in his room.
That was unlike him because he was quite the perfectionist when it came to little things like that. I walked over to his dresser and opened a drawer and just stared at what I saw.
Two things caught my eye. One was a packet of peanuts and the other was a picture of him with another man.
I picked it up and nearly dropped it. The man he was with was the same one in the picture I had taken a year ago.
How could that be?
I sat down on the floor and put my head in my hands.
I had to think. I went through everything that had happened since I hired him.
How could I have been so stupid?
No, it wasn’t my fault. He must have been using an alias. I bet he was using the same one he used when he worked at the other parts store. That means that he wasn’t a spy, but something even worse.
After coming to that conclusion, I got up and started to search his room. It didn’t take long before I found a locked metal box.
I tried to open it with the keys that I found in the room, but none fit. I was getting frustrated and nearly gave up, but then I had an idea.
I went to his dresser again and picked up the packet of peanuts. I poured out the contents and grabbed the shell that was slightly larger than the rest.
I started to manipulate it in my hands and tried to open the lock with it. It took longer than I would have liked, but eventually I heard a click. I opened the box to find photo after photo and newspaper clippings of various disappearances all around the city.
At the very bottom was an envelope and I opened it up. There were three pieces of paper with information on them.
The first listed an address and said “B”. The second had a name and a date of birth. The last one just had a name. I didn’t recognize any of the three, but assumed that “B” was our man. I put the papers back into the envelope and put it in my pocket.
I took the shell and went to the dresser and started to open another packet of peanuts. As I was picking the peanuts out of that shell, I started thinking about the address.
It wasn’t far from where I was, but it wasn’t in a good part of town. I would have to be careful.
I finished the peanuts and put the shell into my pocket for later. I left the room and got into my car.
The address turned out to be a small rundown house, but there was a car in the driveway that I assumed belonged to “B”.
I walked up to the door and knocked. No answer.
I knocked again, a little louder this time. Still no answer. I tried the door knob and to my surprise, it was unlocked.
“Maybe ‘B’ is just hard of hearing,” I said to myself as I opened the door and walked in.
The house was empty and quiet. Too quiet.
I started to speak out, “Hello? ‘B’?”
I continued into the house and looked through every room. I found nothing out of the ordinary, but I knew I was in the right place.
I walked back into the living room and that’s when I saw it.
There was a small notepad with a pencil on top of it. It had one word written in it: “BUREAUCRAT”
I picked it up and started to laugh. “Of course!” I said as I ran out of the house.
I got back in my car and started driving around. I eventually pulled up in front of a run-down apartment building.
It looked like the kind of place you’d rent by the hour and the men hanging around outside were a dead giveaway.
I got out of the car, not paying any attention to those who were giving me the evil eye, and went inside. The interior was about what you would expect.
Filthy, drug paraphernalia everywhere and the distinct smell of pot in the air.
I started walking toward the back, ignoring everyone else who was getting in my way or just staring at me. I passed by a guy who was entertaining a few women and walked into a door without even a sign on it.
Inside, I saw a heavyset man with slicked back hair sitting behind a desk. He didn’t look impressed.
he said in a bored tone.
“I was told that you could help me with a little problem.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “
Oh? What kind of problem do you have?”
I slapped the notepad down on the table. “The bureaucratic type.”
He looked at the note and started laughing heartily. “Ah, yes!
I was wondering when he was going to get to me! Come with me.”
He stood up and started walking through a door behind his desk. I followed closely behind.
He led me into a small laboratory filled with beakers, test tubes and other laboratory equipment. In the center of it all was a large machine topped with a glass container.
Inside the container was a blue liquid. The man went over to it and tapped on the glass, but not the liquid. Inside the container was a smaller container that was floating in the blue liquid. Inside this smaller container was another container that was filled with a grayish white fluid and something small floating in it.
“This,” the man said, “Is my greatest invention.”
“It looks like a fish tank,” I said, somewhat unimpressed.
He glared at me. “You fool!
This is much more than a mere fish tank! This,” he said, thumping on the glass container, “Is a time machine!”
I took the bait. “
A time machine?
Yeah, right. And I’m the king of England.”
He sat down in front of the machine and started going on about time travel and how it was possible and everything else that goes along with the theory. I was starting to get bored until he said something that caught my attention.
“If you provide me with enough funding, I could build a larger machine that could send people through time.”
I perked up. “
You could really do that?”
He nodded. “With enough funding and the right materials, yes, it could be done.”
I was really tempted to ask how much this was going to cost me but I held myself back. This had to be some sort of trick.
No one could build a time machine.
Sources & references used in this article: