Apologies in advance for length.
If it ain't broke . . .
Started a fishing trip to Twin Lakes-Robinson Creek 11 miles W'ly from Bridgeport, Ca. from SoCal in '87 Class C Minnie Winnie Chevy chassis w/ 350, smog equipped with Thorley Headers.
Spent night about 1/2 way at rest stop on 395 and up early before the 2 boys woke. A beautiful morning when my love hate relationship hit not far from the CalTrans yard N'ly of Mammoth the view from the rear window.
Motor died going up the grade with no warning. Wife and kids in back with kids not yet stirring. As I have had issues before, I pull engine cover off suspecting no spark. The boys wake and the wife gets them cereal as I tell 'em of view of Mammoth Mountain out the back. I cussed a little as an offset box wrench is only option as I know to pull the #7 plug easiest one. Crank the Winnie over and it fires up fine running on 7 of 8 naturally. I decided to replace the Ignition Module suspected since I had a new one and cover was off. Told Wife we'd have breakfast in Bridgeport.
I figure for sure The Module was the culprit but started thinking of potential fuel issues on the way to breakfast. After eating I hit the parts store-Napa and bought a fuel filter and pump as pump probably original and some trips have been through long stretches of nothing.
Hit the best campsite in the campground on Robinson Creek 2nd furthest upstream where they surely put in a few nets of stocked Rainbows and the site is a beauty. Kids are on fish quickly, weather is great and it's still relatively early Saturday morning.
I figure I'll change the in carb fuel filter as a precaution/maintenance measure. Finally the fun part . . . Having never worked on this beast-fuel filter I find a small end wrench that I get about 1/8 turn blindly, scraping arm snaked through from the cab. As the kids fish somewhere upstream the cussing starts . . . I get about 1 1/2 turns and now it seems tighter. I step out the back cussing with a slightly shredded right arm and smoke.
Back inside I look at the fuel line and see the hard line twisted into a pretzel. I can cuss probably better than anyone and it's getting serious. Back outside I get an old broken worn 4" piece of hacksaw blade and back in to start cutting. I can get less than 1/2" stroke continuing to shred my arm . . . the cussing picks up and the wife is starting to show concern. Back outside to smoke and now get an ice cold Lite, I cuss the blade, my stupidity and my bloody arm . . . The wife asks if I want a steak knife. "No, I don't want a steak knife."
Back to work cutting, cussing and bleeding I look and am over halfway through. Back outside for a beer and smoke . . . Reluctantly going back inside I ask for the steak Knife, never had seen it but this thing is mean . . . with a handle I cut the rest easily and had to laugh and have a victory beer . . . thank you now Ex-Wife.
Now Saturday afternoon I start towards the lake/nearest marina hoping for fuel hose 2'-3', inline filter, and clamps though might have some old clamps in one of my toolboxes . . . I meet the Camp Host and stop to yak. I'm informed the Marina has no parts so I tell the host I'll walk the 11 miles to Bridgeport in the morning . . . The host offers me a ride as he needs to pick up his mail and Napa is closed on Sunday.
Back at camp I cut the hard line at the pump and installed the hose, filter and washed up . . . Had a few beers, dinner, and a good nights sleep and went home Sunday 7 hours, 375 mlies, 7MPG at guessing $ 2,50 a gallon 15 years or so ago.
The cut piece of hard line still resides in place in that tangled mess as removal would be work.
Story to be continued regarding fuel pump . . . Not broke.
. A friend of mine used 2 6 packs of cheap beer in cans to get his Baja Bug 70 miles across the desert after losing the generator/fan drive belt 
