The Engine's Air Restrictor (Choke)

Lyrics

[Intro]
In the engine bay of the coracle.
It is ten thirty in the morning.
The air is fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit.

[Verse 1]
Below deck, the space is cramped.
Smell of petrol, smell of salt.
This is the Stuart Turner P5M.
Single-cylinder, circa 1950s.
My fingers, slick with engine grease, find the lever.
It resists under a layer of grime.
My half-inch spanner has a chipped wooden handle.
I am here to service the manual air restrictor.

[Chorus]
To choke is to enrich the fuel mixture.
To limit the air intake for a cold start.
It is a precise mechanical function.
A temporary, necessary state.
This is what it means to choke.

[Verse 2]
The technical manual from 1952 provides a diagram.
The lever is brass, tarnished by the sea air.
The knob at its tip is a small acorn.
A decorative detail, not useful for grip.
I apply firm, consistent pressure.
The waves slap the canvas hull.
A gull cries somewhere outside.

[Chorus]
To choke is to enrich the fuel mixture.
To limit the air intake for a cold start.
It is a precise mechanical function.
A temporary, necessary state.
This is what it means to choke.

[Bridge]
Other applications of the word are imprecise.
Anatomical, emotional.
But here, in the cool damp, it is a ratio.
Parts of fuel to parts of air.
There is no ambiguity in the Stuart Turner manual.
Only procedure.

[Outro]
The spanner makes a soft clink on the engine block.
The adjustment is complete.
The engine is ready to turn over.
The choke is set.