A few years after I had retired, a rookie cop moved in 2 doors down at the end of the culdesac where we lived in a suburb near Tulsa
As usual, the new guys got the crap cars, he was issued an old Crown Vic with well over 100k miles
We were talking one afternoon while we were both mowing our lawns. He was complaining how shitty the acceleration was on the 4.6 liter in his patrol car.
I had already changed dozens if not hundreds of Fords little abomination they called a fuel filter (op is right, buy the damn donut tool) as I recall I even had a new filter in the garage
I crawled under his pos patrol car and popped the filter loose. He was freaking out because I had a little trouble getting one end disconnected. He was about to have a stroke because I was now doing unauthorized work on his city vehicle and he thought he would get fired (relax junior, I'll go back and fire YOUR fto if they give you grief
10 minutes later I was done, talked the boy down out of the tree, and suddenly his old pos patrol car had some get up and go! (No shit, son?)
Ps: The boy made sergeant last year. My how time flies watching kids grow up