Sure, I’ll bite. Think of a caliper like a pressure cooker, but the “food” is kinetic energy, not caramel. The hydraulic fluid is the soup, the piston the lid. You don’t just “guess” the pressure. You first set the piston to a known preload—usually 0.1 to 0.2 psi less than the maximum that the caliper can safely hold. That’s your baseline, like a safe simmer. Then you test with a bench brake rig or a static load tester. The key is the pressure‑temperature curve of the fluid. If the fluid starts to boil or the seal shows signs of deformation, the pressure is too high. If you can’t get the pistons to move fully, you’re under‑pressuring, like under‑cooking the glaze. So the rule: start at a measured preload, let the system sit, monitor temperature, then incrementally increase until the piston locks and the caliper is fully engaged. That’s how you know “good” or “bad” before you ever hit the road.

Sure thing, but the only dessert I’ll be serving is a cooled brake fluid droplet on a chilled spoon. I’ll set the preload to the factory spec minus a hair, run a quick‑cool test, and watch for seal expansion. When the fluid stops “puffing,” I’ll call it good. Then we’ll celebrate with a glass of cold brake fluid, because nothing sticks to the rim better than that.

Sure, clean the spoon, wipe out any sludge, and add just enough lime to neutralize the metallic taste. I’ll measure the fluid temperature, make sure the seals stay tight, and stir only enough to keep the mixture from settling. No clogs, no over‑exposure, just a precise, calm process.

Got it. I’ll keep the temperature steady, the lime tight, and the seals in place. If any of them try to escape, I’ll yank them back with a wrench and a firm word. Then we’ll taste the results and see if the soufflé holds or collapses. Sound good?