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Gonzo

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Everything posted by Gonzo

  1. Dude, where’s my tools? It’s another busy day out in the shop. You’re concentrating on getting this job done, when all of a sudden the phone rings. You dash off to the nearest phone with the wrench still in your hand. The phone call wasn’t all that important, but you spent enough time on the phone that you’re not quite sure where you left off. So, you head back to your work area to re-acquaint yourself with what you were doing. Let’s see, I was turning that bolt with the wrench…the wrench, “Dude, where’s my tools?” With the flair of a police pat down you do a quick pocket search, but it doesn’t yield the missing tool. Then you try looking in places you know you’ve left it before. Next, you try bobbing up and down, over and under the car. By now, you’ve broken out the flashlight to follow the beam of light as you peer into places you haven’t even been near. Finally, you walk back to the phone to see if you mistakenly carried it over there. Still nothing. You’re talking to yourself right about now asking, “Dude, where’s my tools?” In a daze you start walking around the shop, snooping into every crevice you can think of in search of this elusive tool that has somehow grown legs and walked off. Oh, don’t worry, it will show up, just keep looking. It’s here somewhere. Admit it, we’ve all done it. What’s worse is when ya can’t find it even though you haven’t moved an inch. You know you’re looking right at it, but it has somehow camouflaged itself. Time to walk away, come back, and what do ya know… there it is. It happens to the best of us. At least I know I’m not the only one muttering, “Dude, where’s my tools?” A few weeks ago my son and I were working on a project at home. He wanted to build a trebuchet; to be exact, not your basic trebuchet mind you. Oh no, not my boy, it had to be some fancy, smanshy one. Sure, why not, I’m up for the challenge. We had no plans, no diagrams, just a photo. It’s amazing how much stuff you have to figure out to make each and every different piece fit together, especially without much more than a photo to go by. Quite a challenge, to say the least. But, just like at the repair shop, tools disappear just as easily, and it’s not long before I’m back to my old chant again, “Dude, where’s my tools?” The pencil was the biggie this time around. Every time we needed to mark something we both would have to go on a pencil safari searching for it. From one work bench to another, and it didn’t matter how many extra pencils we got out, they all seemed to disappear just as easily as the first one did. By now, it wasn’t only me saying it, but my son as well, “Dude, where’s my tools?” At the shop, when I’m working on a big project, such as an engine repair or a major wiring repair I try to have a cart close by with all the tools strategically placed on it. It works…well, most of the time anyway, but there’s always that exception when you have two or three sockets or a test light in use, and you put it down somewhere and somehow you can’t find them anymore. 99 % of the time you’ll recover your tools with no problem, but there’s always one that gets away. I guess that’s why the tool truck stops by once a week, you know, just to see what ya lost this time. Lose a tool, and it’s another trip to the truck to restock and hopefully avoid, “Dude, where’s my tools?” When I finish a project I take inventory of my hand tools as I wipe them down and put them away. If something comes up missing I don’t waste any time before I go on a mission to find out what happened to it. Even if that means going out to the parking lot and checking the car I just finished. (Yea, tell me ya never done that before.) Tools are expensive, and some are irreplaceable. So, don’t be alarmed if you see me snooping around under work benches or behind the brake lathe. Ask me what I’m doing and I’ll bet you’re going to hear me say, “Dude, where’s my tools?” Whether it’s your pocket screwdriver that just doesn’t seem to stay put, especially when you need it in a tight spot and you can’t move. You start doing the phantom pocket search several times while trying to concentrate on what you’re doing, only to give up and go find the blasted thing. Or, when you’re walking back through the office trying to find the missing pocket screwdriver and find that wrench you were using just before the phone rang, lying right there on the counter, next to the customer’s invoice. They all show up sooner or later, usually after you’ve caught yourself mumbling to yourself, “Dude, where’s my tools?” Now, I haven’t quite got to the point that I act like my grandfather. He would roam around the house ranting and raving about not being able to find his glasses when the entire time they are stuck on top of his head. I’ve got a few more years to go before that happens… hopefully. In the meantime it will be just another day, like any other day, and yes I’ll misplace a few things now and then, and you’ll hear me say the same old thing, over and over again, “Dude, where’s my tools!”
  2. I take it your father is still alive, if so, ask him. He might be able to solve the problem seeings how he knows the biz and more than likely your situation isn't just behind the garage doors. I'll bet he's well aware of the situation.
  3. My scanner choices are plenty... I have a lot of them. My first choice is something that will read and define the codes (for all makes and models) that would be the DOL from Autoland. Its simple to operate and wireless. This scanner doesn't do much more than read codes, but it does have some graphing abilities as well as key code, oil reminder resets, and a few other features. After the car is coded, then it depends on the model and the exact problem I'm dealing with. From that point I usually will reach for a manufacturer's scanner. Mainly for better PID and graphing capabilities. I find it a lot easier to stick with one scanner for code reading and then move onto the manufacturer's scanners for detailed info. In some cases all I need is the codes and then a scope. So there is no need in the next step up with a scanner. I also have other specialty scanners for TPMS, Air Bag, etc... those of course, are for the purpose they are designed for. One feature that I use quite a bit on my TPMS scanner is the ability to see the strength of the key fob signal. (A good way to upsell a replacement battery for them.)
  4. OE vs. Aftermarket scanners Last week I had an old customer come in with a Jeep that his son had put larger tires on. The speedo was off and he wanted to know if I could reset it. I said sure. I tried my Mastertech on it, mainly because that year car (a 99') is what I use to set the pinion factor and VIN when I change out the PCM's. Well, well... wouldn't ya know it. It would not allow me to change the pinion factor because I wasn't changing the PCM. Seems the scanner is only set up to change it if I change the PCM. Kinda ticked me off. Had to go back and get the DRB. Grrrr. Another situation where the aftermarket scanner isn't up to par with the manufacturers scanner. Lesson learned. And yes... I tried several times to do it, I could see the pinion factor, but it wouldn't allow me to change it no matter what button (or choice of &*%$ words) I tried. I'm hoping it was just me and I missed a step somewhere...but I doubt. Anybody else run across this problem?
  5. Had a rather interesting week. Hardly any work, the big lift blows a seal, and the heater goes out at the house. wonderful ...

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Gonzo

      Gonzo

      Yep, another day... I checked lol

    3. xrac

      xrac

      FOR me Mon-We'd was dead and Thurs.-Sat. Was crazy busy.

    4. Gonzo

      Gonzo

      house heater - dirty flame sensor - 225.00 lift seals - both shafts redone - 450.00. Profit for the week - zip... the fact that I made it through the week without going nuts...priceless

  6. If you've read my book or have been following my articles you've already read this story. It's one of my favorites as well as a dear friend in this story. This story is more than just about a veteran, but more of how people interact with our professional lives we live. Even though, professional, we are there to provide a service but you're also creating life long friendships with that person on the other side of the counter. There are so many different levels of these customer/friends that it's hard to pin down or categorize them, but you can bet you'll have more than a few. For those who are just starting out in the business, just wait... you'll see what I mean, and for those who have been around as long as I have... you already know.
  7. Old Sarge I met this great man through his son, who happened to be the driver of that Chevy van from the furniture store that was my very first customer. Sarge isn’t his real name, but that’s what I called him. He was a retired Marine Corps cook. I met him one day when he came in with a sick Cadillac. The old Cadillac hardly had any power at all; just as slow and lazy as a snail. I was only in business for a few months, and didn’t know anybody. I didn’t have any work to speak of, so even though it wasn’t an electrical problem (as he originally thought), I jumped right in and found the problem. It was a clogged catalytic converter. Unbelievably, it wasn’t even welded in place. I could take off the clamps, and remove it without much hassle. Back then I didn’t have a lift to put the car in the air, so I had to do the whole job on the ground. Well, old Sarge just sat there and watched me do the whole thing. I think he was a little suspicious of this skinny little white kid who was hacking away at his car, but he patiently waited, being the good man he was. We got to talking about things, and it wasn’t long before he found out that I was also in Marine Corps. Now we had some common ground. We were buds for life, always cutting up with each other. One hot August afternoon Sarge brought in one of his other cars to get some work done. I had the back door to the shop open, and Sarge steps outside for a little fresh air. I thought I could hear the guy crying or mumbling something, couldn’t tell which it was. I stuck my head around the corner, “Sarge, ah …. you ok, buddy?” I asked. He proceeded to tell me how the house he grew up in was close by, before it became a shopping center. He talked about his dad and family, and how he hunted rabbits right where we were standing. It was during the Depression. Hard times, and things were scarce in those days. How his dad hid a pig in a pit, not too far from here. Where they kept the corn mash for making moon shine. I sat and listened to this hardened Marine tell me his life’s story that day, from his first car to how he ended up in the Corps. I didn’t answer the phone, or go up front to see if anyone came in. I just sat out there in that August heat, drenched in sweat, listening to this fella tell me his life story. I’ll never forget that afternoon. I’ll also never forget how every time he came to my shop over the next 25 years he would sneak up on me, and yell in a drill instructor voice, “TEN HUT!” I would snap to attention just like a good Marine should. Sometimes, just to get a rise out of Sarge I would purposely hit my head on the hood of the car I was working on. He got a kick out of it every time. Sarge passed away a couple years back. I still think about him now and then. I hope he’s up there hunting rabbits, or something. Maybe he’s guarding the gates like every Marine hopes to be doing when their time comes. Or, he could be just waiting there to try and surprise me with one more “TEN HUT” when I show up. Sarge, I miss having you around the shop. View full article
  8. Old Sarge I met this great man through his son, who happened to be the driver of that Chevy van from the furniture store that was my very first customer. Sarge isn’t his real name, but that’s what I called him. He was a retired Marine Corps cook. I met him one day when he came in with a sick Cadillac. The old Cadillac hardly had any power at all; just as slow and lazy as a snail. I was only in business for a few months, and didn’t know anybody. I didn’t have any work to speak of, so even though it wasn’t an electrical problem (as he originally thought), I jumped right in and found the problem. It was a clogged catalytic converter. Unbelievably, it wasn’t even welded in place. I could take off the clamps, and remove it without much hassle. Back then I didn’t have a lift to put the car in the air, so I had to do the whole job on the ground. Well, old Sarge just sat there and watched me do the whole thing. I think he was a little suspicious of this skinny little white kid who was hacking away at his car, but he patiently waited, being the good man he was. We got to talking about things, and it wasn’t long before he found out that I was also in Marine Corps. Now we had some common ground. We were buds for life, always cutting up with each other. One hot August afternoon Sarge brought in one of his other cars to get some work done. I had the back door to the shop open, and Sarge steps outside for a little fresh air. I thought I could hear the guy crying or mumbling something, couldn’t tell which it was. I stuck my head around the corner, “Sarge, ah …. you ok, buddy?” I asked. He proceeded to tell me how the house he grew up in was close by, before it became a shopping center. He talked about his dad and family, and how he hunted rabbits right where we were standing. It was during the Depression. Hard times, and things were scarce in those days. How his dad hid a pig in a pit, not too far from here. Where they kept the corn mash for making moon shine. I sat and listened to this hardened Marine tell me his life’s story that day, from his first car to how he ended up in the Corps. I didn’t answer the phone, or go up front to see if anyone came in. I just sat out there in that August heat, drenched in sweat, listening to this fella tell me his life story. I’ll never forget that afternoon. I’ll also never forget how every time he came to my shop over the next 25 years he would sneak up on me, and yell in a drill instructor voice, “TEN HUT!” I would snap to attention just like a good Marine should. Sometimes, just to get a rise out of Sarge I would purposely hit my head on the hood of the car I was working on. He got a kick out of it every time. Sarge passed away a couple years back. I still think about him now and then. I hope he’s up there hunting rabbits, or something. Maybe he’s guarding the gates like every Marine hopes to be doing when their time comes. Or, he could be just waiting there to try and surprise me with one more “TEN HUT” when I show up. Sarge, I miss having you around the shop.
  9. I've talked to the Hybrid shop people many many times. I even attended a class on using their equipment to refurbish the battery packs. Very likely this will be something to think about. They did do a case study to see how many hybrids are in my area and their numbers came back very strong. So, I did my own checking, calling dealer friends, and sales people. The numbers I came up with were totally different. In fact, the number of sold hybrids was half of what they showed. The next thing I did was check with the service departments at some dealers. Very few service calls on the batteries or the regenerating systems. My opinion; "This is with out a doubt a great concept. However, I don't think there is a market large enough yet (in my area) to invest that much money into it. The mile radius guarantee they offer sounds great, but what it states is that they will not put another hybrid shop within your area, but that doesn't stop a competitor to open up a hybrid store from another company doing the exact same thing next to yours." If I was younger, and had the ambition to stay in this biz for another ... say 20 years ... I might consider it. But, for the time being I believe there isn't enough market for it unless you're in a large city area with lots and lots of these cars. An example for ya; I had a hybrid (Honda) in a few weeks ago with codes for a failing battery pack. The car had over a 100k on the odometer. Once I gave him a quote (a very low profit quote too) the owner couldn't see putting that much money in a car with that many miles, even though I did my best to explain to the owner that the engine doesn't have that many miles on it. There has to be a change of attitude by the consumers out there that a car with 100k is worn out and worthless when it comes to these hybrids resale value. (that includes banks and insurance companies). FYI - O'Reillys is selling recond. batteries at a price similar to the refurbished hybrid shop batteries too. Is it worth the 69k? That's a big question... As fast as technology changes I'm also concerned about how long their equipment will be viable and not become obsolete. Hard to dish out that much cash. I'm waiting to see some return of investment dollars before I do anything.
  10. I heard when they scrap them out, they squeeze it like a lemon and resell the fluid.
  11. There's always the piston springs, muffler bearings, and the headlight grease stories. More stories in the works. LOL
  12. Nope, none of it is made up. Happens all the time.
  13. Strange Request Not to say some people have a hard time dealing with reality, but there are a few, a small portion that is, whose elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor. For those select few, I often wondered what would happen if they would stop and think through what they’re asking, before they asked these strange requests. As an automotive professional, I have to maintain a certain level of self-control while answering their questions. Even though what they’re asking is beyond the scope of rational intelligence. I still have to keep both oars in the water, regardless if they are a few crayons short of a full box. Here are a few examples of the things I’ve been asked over the years that have left me standing there without a clue as to what just happened. I still don’t have any explanation as to why or how to answer them. The Harness Caper “Hello, may I help you?” I asked the voice on the phone. “Yes, how much would you charge to rewire my car?” the caller asked, “It’s got some electrical problems and I can’t find it, or do think you can repair it?” Now there’s a bit of unexpected news. Rewire or repair? How in the world am I going to estimate that? I had no intention of giving this guy some sort of dollar amount on something that vague. So I went with the basic diagnostic fee as a starting point, and how a total rewire was probably not necessary. The caller eventually settled on the repair rather than the rewire. Then, he hit me with the next bomb shell of unexpected news. “OK, I’ll bring the harness in so you can diagnose it. I already have it out of the car.” Now, I’ve taken a lot of harnesses out of cars in the past, and I don’t remember any of them that came out all that easily. I’m picturing this guy’s car in a million pieces scattered in his driveway, or worse yet, a harness that is chopped up into little sections so he could remove it without tearing the rest of the car apart. Either way, it’s starting to sound a lot like a minor electrical issue that is now a complete disaster. You took it out of the car already?” I asked shockingly, “I can’t diagnose an electrical problem in your car with it removed.” “Obviously, you don’t know what you’re doing then. I’m taking my car somewhere else,” he bantered back. “The car is what I need, not just the harness,” I said, getting a little peeved at his comments by now. “I can’t bring the car, it won’t run. What kind of idiot are you?” (Now I’m really hacked!) “Taking the harness out of the car before having it diagnosed is like tearing down a house just to check the light bulbs,” I said, already committed to the fact that this guy isn’t coming in. “Just never mind then,” he said, “I’ll fix it myself.” (And a fine job you’ll do too!) Blinker Fluid “I noticed a strange fluid filling up my tail light lens,” the caller says, “I’ve done some research on the internet and I have found out it’s the blinker fluid leaking. Can you put it back?” “Ah, no,” I said, trying to hold back the snickering, “There’s no such thing as blinker fluid. What you’re seeing is water in the lens.” “No, you’re wrong, sir!” the caller sternly said, “I found a bottle of blinker fluid for sale on ebay. Obviously, you’re not a very good mechanic, or you’re just trying to rip me off! I’ll take my car somewhere else!” “CLICK” (I wonder if that’s the good blinker fluid or the cheap stuff?) Cruise Control Dilemma After repairing a cruise control for a customer the day before, she called me up the next day and starting complaining. “I tried the cruise control and it doesn’t work!” I know I checked it out before giving it back to the customer, which made me rather curious as to how it could have gone out in such a short time. After talking to the customer for quite some time, it was very apparent that she didn’t know how to use the cruise control, or was misinformed as to how it operated. “As the light turns green,” she began to tell me, “I hit the “ON” button but the car doesn’t go as fast as I want to go. Even when I take my foot off of the gas and hit the “RESUME” button, it won’t go either.” “Ma’am, you have to get the car up to the desired speed and then hit the “SET” button,” I told her. “Now why would I need to do that? I’m not sitting! (Setting, sitting… apples oranges…) It should know how fast I want to go! The speed limit sign is right there!” (Yep, it’s official; this one ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed.) Telepathic Diagnostics “Hello sir, I’d like to get a part for my car,” the caller asked. “What kind of car is it and what kind of part do you need?” I cheerfully asked. “I don’t know what part, you’re the expert, you should already know.” “Well, let’s start with what kind of car it is.” “I don’t know that either, you should know.” I’m a bit frustrated at this point, so I thought I’d break things down a bit further. “OK, what color is it?” “Sir, if I have to tell you what color my car is or what part is broken then you must not be a very good mechanic... good day!” “CLICK” (Obviously, our cosmic streams are not communicating.) It’s Free Another shop referred a customer over to me for some work they didn’t do at their shop. The customer walks up to the counter, explains things in detail and lays their keys on the counter. “Not a problem, I’ll get it diagnosed and give you an estimate once I have figured out the exact problem,” I told him. “Oh no, no, no, no... You don’t understand. They told me it wasn’t going to cost me anything,” the now upset customer told me. “I’m sure “they" didn’t tell you the repair is going to be free here sir. I don’t work for free, in the same way, I’m sure you don’t work for free either. I get paid to diagnose and repair cars just like the shop you came from,” I said. He grabbed the keys off the counter and stormed out the door saying, “They said it was free, and that’s what it should be. I guess you don’t want my business then!” Ah, you’re right. Especially at the price you’re suggesting. (Definitely, this guy is one taco shy a combo platter.) How some of these folks make it through the day without falling off the edge of the planet is beyond me. It still leaves me shaking my head in disbelief. You’d think I’ve heard every kind of strange request after the time I’ve spent behind the service counter…nope, I seriously doubt it. There’s more, there’s always more. View full article
  14. Strange Request Not to say some people have a hard time dealing with reality, but there are a few, a small portion that is, whose elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor. For those select few, I often wondered what would happen if they would stop and think through what they’re asking, before they asked these strange requests. As an automotive professional, I have to maintain a certain level of self-control while answering their questions. Even though what they’re asking is beyond the scope of rational intelligence. I still have to keep both oars in the water, regardless if they are a few crayons short of a full box. Here are a few examples of the things I’ve been asked over the years that have left me standing there without a clue as to what just happened. I still don’t have any explanation as to why or how to answer them. The Harness Caper “Hello, may I help you?” I asked the voice on the phone. “Yes, how much would you charge to rewire my car?” the caller asked, “It’s got some electrical problems and I can’t find it, or do think you can repair it?” Now there’s a bit of unexpected news. Rewire or repair? How in the world am I going to estimate that? I had no intention of giving this guy some sort of dollar amount on something that vague. So I went with the basic diagnostic fee as a starting point, and how a total rewire was probably not necessary. The caller eventually settled on the repair rather than the rewire. Then, he hit me with the next bomb shell of unexpected news. “OK, I’ll bring the harness in so you can diagnose it. I already have it out of the car.” Now, I’ve taken a lot of harnesses out of cars in the past, and I don’t remember any of them that came out all that easily. I’m picturing this guy’s car in a million pieces scattered in his driveway, or worse yet, a harness that is chopped up into little sections so he could remove it without tearing the rest of the car apart. Either way, it’s starting to sound a lot like a minor electrical issue that is now a complete disaster. You took it out of the car already?” I asked shockingly, “I can’t diagnose an electrical problem in your car with it removed.” “Obviously, you don’t know what you’re doing then. I’m taking my car somewhere else,” he bantered back. “The car is what I need, not just the harness,” I said, getting a little peeved at his comments by now. “I can’t bring the car, it won’t run. What kind of idiot are you?” (Now I’m really hacked!) “Taking the harness out of the car before having it diagnosed is like tearing down a house just to check the light bulbs,” I said, already committed to the fact that this guy isn’t coming in. “Just never mind then,” he said, “I’ll fix it myself.” (And a fine job you’ll do too!) Blinker Fluid “I noticed a strange fluid filling up my tail light lens,” the caller says, “I’ve done some research on the internet and I have found out it’s the blinker fluid leaking. Can you put it back?” “Ah, no,” I said, trying to hold back the snickering, “There’s no such thing as blinker fluid. What you’re seeing is water in the lens.” “No, you’re wrong, sir!” the caller sternly said, “I found a bottle of blinker fluid for sale on ebay. Obviously, you’re not a very good mechanic, or you’re just trying to rip me off! I’ll take my car somewhere else!” “CLICK” (I wonder if that’s the good blinker fluid or the cheap stuff?) Cruise Control Dilemma After repairing a cruise control for a customer the day before, she called me up the next day and starting complaining. “I tried the cruise control and it doesn’t work!” I know I checked it out before giving it back to the customer, which made me rather curious as to how it could have gone out in such a short time. After talking to the customer for quite some time, it was very apparent that she didn’t know how to use the cruise control, or was misinformed as to how it operated. “As the light turns green,” she began to tell me, “I hit the “ON” button but the car doesn’t go as fast as I want to go. Even when I take my foot off of the gas and hit the “RESUME” button, it won’t go either.” “Ma’am, you have to get the car up to the desired speed and then hit the “SET” button,” I told her. “Now why would I need to do that? I’m not sitting! (Setting, sitting… apples oranges…) It should know how fast I want to go! The speed limit sign is right there!” (Yep, it’s official; this one ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed.) Telepathic Diagnostics “Hello sir, I’d like to get a part for my car,” the caller asked. “What kind of car is it and what kind of part do you need?” I cheerfully asked. “I don’t know what part, you’re the expert, you should already know.” “Well, let’s start with what kind of car it is.” “I don’t know that either, you should know.” I’m a bit frustrated at this point, so I thought I’d break things down a bit further. “OK, what color is it?” “Sir, if I have to tell you what color my car is or what part is broken then you must not be a very good mechanic... good day!” “CLICK” (Obviously, our cosmic streams are not communicating.) It’s Free Another shop referred a customer over to me for some work they didn’t do at their shop. The customer walks up to the counter, explains things in detail and lays their keys on the counter. “Not a problem, I’ll get it diagnosed and give you an estimate once I have figured out the exact problem,” I told him. “Oh no, no, no, no... You don’t understand. They told me it wasn’t going to cost me anything,” the now upset customer told me. “I’m sure “they" didn’t tell you the repair is going to be free here sir. I don’t work for free, in the same way, I’m sure you don’t work for free either. I get paid to diagnose and repair cars just like the shop you came from,” I said. He grabbed the keys off the counter and stormed out the door saying, “They said it was free, and that’s what it should be. I guess you don’t want my business then!” Ah, you’re right. Especially at the price you’re suggesting. (Definitely, this guy is one taco shy a combo platter.) How some of these folks make it through the day without falling off the edge of the planet is beyond me. It still leaves me shaking my head in disbelief. You’d think I’ve heard every kind of strange request after the time I’ve spent behind the service counter…nope, I seriously doubt it. There’s more, there’s always more.
  15. Yes, I think about it all the time. Even with a profitable shop I think it will be a hard sell, since I'm a specialty shop, which also narrows the possibilities of selling it outright. I compare it to what it's like to find qualified electrical technicians. (Since that is my main forte) They are few and far between. When I do sell, which I know I will someday, I think the odds of finding a buyer is slim to perhaps... none. It may come down to a piece by piece sale until it's all gone. But, I'm always hoping for somebody to come across with the cash to buy it or finance it. Because when I'm done... I'm done. I'm not going to be one of those owners that sticks around for a few years after the sale. We'll see what happens. My lawyer is older than I am and he's having the same issues trying to sell his office. LOL another day in paradise. It will all work out some how....always seems to....
  16. I enjoy writing these stories, and some of them do get published. I need to start thinking about taking some of the best ones and putting them into my next book. Publishing is expensive, and very little return on your investment, but... it ain't about the money as much as it is about putting a smile on a mechanics face after dealing with all the stuff we deal with. Might as well keep writing. Seems to be pretty popular. LOL As a mechanic/shop owner/ all that other stuff I do, creating a topic, a theme, and putting something down that's fun to read is still my all time favorite thing to do. My kids used to love it when I'd tell a story to them that I made up (kids stories) they will always be my favorite audience. Glad ya like the articles, and I'll keep coming up with new "themes" ya just never know what the next one will be... and neither do I.
  17. It’s Alive! It’s Alive! Dr. Frankenstein waited for just the right thunderstorm to attach the clamps to his creation. As Igor threw each dead man switch into action a shower of sparks flew from the control panel. You could see the high voltage coursing through the Frankenstein creature as the lightning changed the shadowy glow of the laboratory. His pieced together monster began to thrive and move about. Then, with its arms stretched out straight, and its large hands dangling, it rose from the table and walked across the room. Dr. Frankenstein shouted out, “It’s Alive! It’s Alive!” For a mechanic, bringing a car back to life may not be as spine tingling or as thrilling as an edge of your seat horror flick, but there are a few times when a few sparks might fly and some smoke might come rolling out from under the hood. In a way it could be compared to a horror scene sometimes, and it probably will make the hair stand up on the back of the boss’ neck, but it’s not Hollywood material. Although, it can make for a rather entertaining afternoon at the shop. I guess in some peculiar way a mechanics job is somewhat like being Dr. Frankenstein. Let’s face it, on a daily basis a mechanic brings the dead back to life. We wander through the dead silence of creepy bone yards for body parts and other needed essentials from discarded creatures of the road. If need be, we’ll work late into the night like a mad scientist ripping the parts out of the donor with hammers, saws, and other tools. Then, like a fine surgeon, we’ll carefully stitch the replacement parts into our latest creation. After all the pieces are in place we’ll fill the different cavities with their proper bodily fluids, and then zap some electricity through its veins. Even after all these years I still act a little like Dr. Frankenstein when the first signs of life emerge from the latest resurrection. Although, I’ve never used a lighting storm to bring a car back from the dead, a few extra jolts from the battery charger doesn’t hurt one bit. Just like Dr. Frankenstein, a mechanic usually works in his laboratory (service bay) in solitude. Sometimes with a helper or an apprentice whose main tasks are collecting those various parts, throw switches, turning dials, holding body parts in place, and observing (and learning) what’s going on, while peering over the mechanic’s shoulder. All this, while using advanced technical, mechanical, and electrical processes that are only vaguely understood by the general mass of commoners out on the city streets. In the service bay (laboratory), mechanics and their helpers take those seemingly impossible arrangements of various materials and create a beast with unbelievable strength and power, and in some instances, their own version of a Frankenstein monster. In the movie, those town folks said Dr. Frankenstein had to be crazy for thinking he could put this monster together, and even crazier to think he could bring it back to life. But, I’m sure there are quite a few common city dwellers out there who would think the same thing about a mechanic, if they ever saw all the bits and pieces strung out on the service bay floor that needed to be removed to change out a heater core on some cars. Old Doc. Frankenstein could have used a few lessons in customer service, though. The last thing you want to see is an angry mob heading to your castle (or shop) because your latest creation has terrorized the town, or left somebody’s daughter stranded on the side of the road on a dark and gloomy night. I don’t think I would have fared any better than Dr. Frankenstein did when the townspeople came a calling with pitch forks, snarly faces, and flaming torches. Then again, I’m no Dr. Frankenstein. I’m not creating a one-time monster out of used parts. I have to bring these demons of the road back to life every day, and unlike the doctor… I’ve got more than just two different models to deal with! Not to say old Doc Frankenstein didn’t have a few various attempts of improving on his stitched together creation along the way, you know, “Bride of Frankenstein”, “Frankenstein meets the Mummy”, and so on… but, none of them worked out any better than his first try. Ya can’t have that kind of success rate in the automotive trade though. Whether it’s a mummy or a daddy’s car the mechanic’s job is to bring them back to life as quickly and as efficiently as possible. I suppose it’s a good thing Frankenstein was a doctor in a horror flick and not a mechanic. His track record wasn’t all that impressive. Still in all, to take a piece of machinery that hasn’t been in use or unproductive for years and then bring it back to life is like seeing Frankenstein’s monster rise off of that operating table for me. There’s a certain testosterone appeal in seeing your latest creation go from a pile of miscellaneous parts to a machine that roars to life as you open its throttle. I don’t know of any mechanic who doesn’t get a little bit of that Dr. Frankenstein grin on their face as the fumes and vibrations fill the garage when their latest accomplishment comes to life. I suppose there’s a touch of ol’ Dr. Frankenstein in everyone. For some of us, we’ve taken that horror movie idea of bringing things back to life (mechanical things that is) as part of our own occupation. Oh sure, there’s a lot of boring, mundane chores in the mechanic world that have to be performed on a daily basis. It’s not at all like in the movies, you know. There are oil changes, radiator flushes, and other boring, run of the mill repairs that need to be done. But, when the chance comes along to bring a piece of machinery back to its gear grinding, throttle snarling, sparks flying former self, you can bet we’ll be there in the shop. It might even be one of those stormy nights just like in the movie. With the flickering glow of the lightning dancing across the garage wall, and the thunder claps echoing in the distance, we’ll hook up the cables, and bring that metal monster back from the dead. And, I’m sure, we’ll be saying the same thing ol’ Doc. Frankenstein said so well in those movies, “It’s Alive! It’s Alive!” View full article
  18. It’s Alive! It’s Alive! Dr. Frankenstein waited for just the right thunderstorm to attach the clamps to his creation. As Igor threw each dead man switch into action a shower of sparks flew from the control panel. You could see the high voltage coursing through the Frankenstein creature as the lightning changed the shadowy glow of the laboratory. His pieced together monster began to thrive and move about. Then, with its arms stretched out straight, and its large hands dangling, it rose from the table and walked across the room. Dr. Frankenstein shouted out, “It’s Alive! It’s Alive!” For a mechanic, bringing a car back to life may not be as spine tingling or as thrilling as an edge of your seat horror flick, but there are a few times when a few sparks might fly and some smoke might come rolling out from under the hood. In a way it could be compared to a horror scene sometimes, and it probably will make the hair stand up on the back of the boss’ neck, but it’s not Hollywood material. Although, it can make for a rather entertaining afternoon at the shop. I guess in some peculiar way a mechanics job is somewhat like being Dr. Frankenstein. Let’s face it, on a daily basis a mechanic brings the dead back to life. We wander through the dead silence of creepy bone yards for body parts and other needed essentials from discarded creatures of the road. If need be, we’ll work late into the night like a mad scientist ripping the parts out of the donor with hammers, saws, and other tools. Then, like a fine surgeon, we’ll carefully stitch the replacement parts into our latest creation. After all the pieces are in place we’ll fill the different cavities with their proper bodily fluids, and then zap some electricity through its veins. Even after all these years I still act a little like Dr. Frankenstein when the first signs of life emerge from the latest resurrection. Although, I’ve never used a lighting storm to bring a car back from the dead, a few extra jolts from the battery charger doesn’t hurt one bit. Just like Dr. Frankenstein, a mechanic usually works in his laboratory (service bay) in solitude. Sometimes with a helper or an apprentice whose main tasks are collecting those various parts, throw switches, turning dials, holding body parts in place, and observing (and learning) what’s going on, while peering over the mechanic’s shoulder. All this, while using advanced technical, mechanical, and electrical processes that are only vaguely understood by the general mass of commoners out on the city streets. In the service bay (laboratory), mechanics and their helpers take those seemingly impossible arrangements of various materials and create a beast with unbelievable strength and power, and in some instances, their own version of a Frankenstein monster. In the movie, those town folks said Dr. Frankenstein had to be crazy for thinking he could put this monster together, and even crazier to think he could bring it back to life. But, I’m sure there are quite a few common city dwellers out there who would think the same thing about a mechanic, if they ever saw all the bits and pieces strung out on the service bay floor that needed to be removed to change out a heater core on some cars. Old Doc. Frankenstein could have used a few lessons in customer service, though. The last thing you want to see is an angry mob heading to your castle (or shop) because your latest creation has terrorized the town, or left somebody’s daughter stranded on the side of the road on a dark and gloomy night. I don’t think I would have fared any better than Dr. Frankenstein did when the townspeople came a calling with pitch forks, snarly faces, and flaming torches. Then again, I’m no Dr. Frankenstein. I’m not creating a one-time monster out of used parts. I have to bring these demons of the road back to life every day, and unlike the doctor… I’ve got more than just two different models to deal with! Not to say old Doc Frankenstein didn’t have a few various attempts of improving on his stitched together creation along the way, you know, “Bride of Frankenstein”, “Frankenstein meets the Mummy”, and so on… but, none of them worked out any better than his first try. Ya can’t have that kind of success rate in the automotive trade though. Whether it’s a mummy or a daddy’s car the mechanic’s job is to bring them back to life as quickly and as efficiently as possible. I suppose it’s a good thing Frankenstein was a doctor in a horror flick and not a mechanic. His track record wasn’t all that impressive. Still in all, to take a piece of machinery that hasn’t been in use or unproductive for years and then bring it back to life is like seeing Frankenstein’s monster rise off of that operating table for me. There’s a certain testosterone appeal in seeing your latest creation go from a pile of miscellaneous parts to a machine that roars to life as you open its throttle. I don’t know of any mechanic who doesn’t get a little bit of that Dr. Frankenstein grin on their face as the fumes and vibrations fill the garage when their latest accomplishment comes to life. I suppose there’s a touch of ol’ Dr. Frankenstein in everyone. For some of us, we’ve taken that horror movie idea of bringing things back to life (mechanical things that is) as part of our own occupation. Oh sure, there’s a lot of boring, mundane chores in the mechanic world that have to be performed on a daily basis. It’s not at all like in the movies, you know. There are oil changes, radiator flushes, and other boring, run of the mill repairs that need to be done. But, when the chance comes along to bring a piece of machinery back to its gear grinding, throttle snarling, sparks flying former self, you can bet we’ll be there in the shop. It might even be one of those stormy nights just like in the movie. With the flickering glow of the lightning dancing across the garage wall, and the thunder claps echoing in the distance, we’ll hook up the cables, and bring that metal monster back from the dead. And, I’m sure, we’ll be saying the same thing ol’ Doc. Frankenstein said so well in those movies, “It’s Alive! It’s Alive!”
  19. Well that sucks. Sears has always been one of those department store repair shops that I get a lot of referral work from. Locally, they've had a tradition of parts swapping. They screw it up and then give up...and then tell their customer to see me. They were good advertisement for me. Gonna miss them. Now, those folks that use this sort of service from these department store repair shops will have to go elsewhere to get their cars looked at. I just hope the next place they go extends the referral work back to my shop as Sears has done in the past. You know, ya gotta have those parts swapper shops around... makes for good business for other shops. I guess times are changing and maybe people are starting to realize the value of a trained technician and not somebody with just a name on his shirt and a Sears logo. What am I thinking??? Seriously? Consumers getting wise? my bad.....
  20. Last Stop Before the Asylum On a foggy afternoon, with no breeze in sight, and a slight chill in the air, an old man came to the repair shop. He didn’t come through the front door like most everyone would, no he pulled his car right into the center bay of the shop. But, it gets stranger…. He didn’t get out of the car. He didn’t even roll down the window. He just sat there ... with both hands on the wheel, the engine still running, and staring out the windshield like a zombie from an old horror flick. He appeared to be calmly sitting at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. There was no expression on his face, he never blinked; he just sat there….with this cold stone stare. I didn’t want to walk in front of the car in fear he may take me as the green light, so I walked around the back of the car keeping one eye on this strange guy, and then crept up to the drivers’ window. I tapped on the glass….no response from inside. I tried the door handle… it opened. “Afternoon sir,” I said in a cheerful manner, trying to keep my curiosity at bay, “Is there anything I can do for you today?” The old man, ever so slowly, turned his head towards me while maintaining a straight forward posture and both hands still on the wheel, never really looking up, he just turned his head and answered. “Why yes, young man, my turn signals are acting up, and my window won’t roll down.” (The man’s voice reminded me of an old horror movie vampire.) Very creepy to say the least. He even looked like a 50’s horror movie villain with sunken cheeks, large bushy eye brows, slow methodical speech, and that expressionless cold stare. (Where’s his cape, ....does he keep the bats in the trunk,.... the coffin, where’s the coffin?) “No problem, sir,” I answered, still holding my fear in check, “Just head up front and they can write you an invoice for the repair, and then I can get started.” “I’d rather stay here, (slowly turning his head towards me again, lifting his eyebrows, and raising his eyes up towards me so his glare was straight into my eyes) right here in the drivers’ seat,” he said in that creepy horror flick manner. (Insert your choice of spooky movie music here) Ok, where’s the holy water?…..where’s my garlic?….who’s got the silver bullets?…….where’s the wooden stakes? …….a little help here from the guys in the shop …..ahh guys…guys?....where is everyone??? Why is it when you look around the shop for help…..everybody disappears? Oh they’ll show up, oh sure they will, you know they will…after they let me be the first victim……not funny guys! ! ! I could ask this creepy guy again to step out of the car, or I could tell him about our policy on customers in the shop area. At this point, I probably look like one of those B movie extras who is too scared to say their lines. (If I had any.) I figured I better tell him he can’t stay in the car while I was working on it, and see where that leads. There he sat, still staring straight ahead out the windshield, not blinking, and not even moving a muscle. “Sir, because of insurance reason you can’t stay in the shop. You will have to wait outside or in the customer waiting area,” I said, trying to be as professional as possible. (They can smell fear, you know.) Looking straight forward, not at me, he said in that baritone voice, “You do whatever you feel is necessary, son,” then he turned his head and looked right through me, “I’ll be sitting right here,” he said it all in that same eerie voice. He turned back towards the windshield without another word. Then, he just sat there... as still as a tombstone. Now I’m not scared…I’m getting riled up. I don’t know what graveyard this movie mogul came from, but…this is my shop. I have to take the responsibility here. If he isn’t going to get out of the car I really can’t do too much. Well, maybe I can do some quick diagnostics without having him get out of the car. This way, I won’t feel like such a jerk if I have to get a little serious with this Boris Karloff. “Sir, why don’t you try those turn signals for me,” I said. He did, and they seemed to be working just fine. “Could you try rolling down the window for me,” I asked. It worked fine as well. Without a problem that I was aware of, I thought the next best thing was to get him out of the car, and take a look under the dash. “Sir, can you step out of the car, so I can look under the dash,” I asked. “No,” was his goolish response. “Well sir, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I answered, “Or, you can wait outside the shop while I take a look at the car.” “No,” came his answer. “Ok, then, can you do something for me? Could you put it in neutral and leave your foot off of the brake,” I calmly asked. He did just that, then he put his hands back on the wheel but never changed his dead pan expression. I motioned to one of the guys who just happened to show up from his hiding place to come over and help me. We both grabbed the front of the car and pushed the car outside with the old man still in it. As we pushed him out, you could see the old fella through the windshield, never changing his expression and with that straight ahead stare…..he just sat there. I walked up to the driver's door, (the window was still down), “Sir, when you are ready to get out of the car I’ll be more than happy to help you. But, until then you will have to remain out here. If there is a medical reason why you can’t get out of the car I’ll make arrangements to assist you into a different chair or something that will be more comfortable for you,” I said with a stern voice. The old man did that same slow head turn without taking his hands off of the steering wheel again. He stared right into my eyes….raised those bushy eyebrows, and with that same slow deliberate baritone voice he said, “It’s not medical, it’s not a problem, I like my car the way it is…(and with his eyes extending out as if to make them larger)……with me in it.” (There’s that spooky music again) I walked back to shop to finish the other work that was there. On and off throughout the afternoon you could look outside and there was that creepy old guy sitting in his car. Staring right into the shop through the windshield of his car…. never moving, never blinking, still with both hands on the wheel. (There should have been some eerie fog flowing around his car….now that would have been even more creepy) At closing time, the old guy was still there. As soon as I starting to pull the doors down… he drove off. As the door came to their usual “thump” at the bottom…the shop radio went dead. You could hear a pin drop in the shop; the only noticeable noise was the old man’s car leaving the parking lot. When the car noise was all but gone…the radio started back up. It was like some page out of a horror movie…..Ok, Ok, it had to be just one of those moments when the station was changing a disc or something……but why right then??? So, the next time you are at a traffic light and you see an old guy with big bushy eyebrows…staring through the windshield, and who appears to have been in the latest horror flick at the theater, perhaps on his way to the asylum. Forget the red light, don’t make eye contact, don’t look back……….drive, drive far away! View full article
  21. Last Stop Before the Asylum On a foggy afternoon, with no breeze in sight, and a slight chill in the air, an old man came to the repair shop. He didn’t come through the front door like most everyone would, no he pulled his car right into the center bay of the shop. But, it gets stranger…. He didn’t get out of the car. He didn’t even roll down the window. He just sat there ... with both hands on the wheel, the engine still running, and staring out the windshield like a zombie from an old horror flick. He appeared to be calmly sitting at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. There was no expression on his face, he never blinked; he just sat there….with this cold stone stare. I didn’t want to walk in front of the car in fear he may take me as the green light, so I walked around the back of the car keeping one eye on this strange guy, and then crept up to the drivers’ window. I tapped on the glass….no response from inside. I tried the door handle… it opened. “Afternoon sir,” I said in a cheerful manner, trying to keep my curiosity at bay, “Is there anything I can do for you today?” The old man, ever so slowly, turned his head towards me while maintaining a straight forward posture and both hands still on the wheel, never really looking up, he just turned his head and answered. “Why yes, young man, my turn signals are acting up, and my window won’t roll down.” (The man’s voice reminded me of an old horror movie vampire.) Very creepy to say the least. He even looked like a 50’s horror movie villain with sunken cheeks, large bushy eye brows, slow methodical speech, and that expressionless cold stare. (Where’s his cape, ....does he keep the bats in the trunk,.... the coffin, where’s the coffin?) “No problem, sir,” I answered, still holding my fear in check, “Just head up front and they can write you an invoice for the repair, and then I can get started.” “I’d rather stay here, (slowly turning his head towards me again, lifting his eyebrows, and raising his eyes up towards me so his glare was straight into my eyes) right here in the drivers’ seat,” he said in that creepy horror flick manner. (Insert your choice of spooky movie music here) Ok, where’s the holy water?…..where’s my garlic?….who’s got the silver bullets?…….where’s the wooden stakes? …….a little help here from the guys in the shop …..ahh guys…guys?....where is everyone??? Why is it when you look around the shop for help…..everybody disappears? Oh they’ll show up, oh sure they will, you know they will…after they let me be the first victim……not funny guys! ! ! I could ask this creepy guy again to step out of the car, or I could tell him about our policy on customers in the shop area. At this point, I probably look like one of those B movie extras who is too scared to say their lines. (If I had any.) I figured I better tell him he can’t stay in the car while I was working on it, and see where that leads. There he sat, still staring straight ahead out the windshield, not blinking, and not even moving a muscle. “Sir, because of insurance reason you can’t stay in the shop. You will have to wait outside or in the customer waiting area,” I said, trying to be as professional as possible. (They can smell fear, you know.) Looking straight forward, not at me, he said in that baritone voice, “You do whatever you feel is necessary, son,” then he turned his head and looked right through me, “I’ll be sitting right here,” he said it all in that same eerie voice. He turned back towards the windshield without another word. Then, he just sat there... as still as a tombstone. Now I’m not scared…I’m getting riled up. I don’t know what graveyard this movie mogul came from, but…this is my shop. I have to take the responsibility here. If he isn’t going to get out of the car I really can’t do too much. Well, maybe I can do some quick diagnostics without having him get out of the car. This way, I won’t feel like such a jerk if I have to get a little serious with this Boris Karloff. “Sir, why don’t you try those turn signals for me,” I said. He did, and they seemed to be working just fine. “Could you try rolling down the window for me,” I asked. It worked fine as well. Without a problem that I was aware of, I thought the next best thing was to get him out of the car, and take a look under the dash. “Sir, can you step out of the car, so I can look under the dash,” I asked. “No,” was his goolish response. “Well sir, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I answered, “Or, you can wait outside the shop while I take a look at the car.” “No,” came his answer. “Ok, then, can you do something for me? Could you put it in neutral and leave your foot off of the brake,” I calmly asked. He did just that, then he put his hands back on the wheel but never changed his dead pan expression. I motioned to one of the guys who just happened to show up from his hiding place to come over and help me. We both grabbed the front of the car and pushed the car outside with the old man still in it. As we pushed him out, you could see the old fella through the windshield, never changing his expression and with that straight ahead stare…..he just sat there. I walked up to the driver's door, (the window was still down), “Sir, when you are ready to get out of the car I’ll be more than happy to help you. But, until then you will have to remain out here. If there is a medical reason why you can’t get out of the car I’ll make arrangements to assist you into a different chair or something that will be more comfortable for you,” I said with a stern voice. The old man did that same slow head turn without taking his hands off of the steering wheel again. He stared right into my eyes….raised those bushy eyebrows, and with that same slow deliberate baritone voice he said, “It’s not medical, it’s not a problem, I like my car the way it is…(and with his eyes extending out as if to make them larger)……with me in it.” (There’s that spooky music again) I walked back to shop to finish the other work that was there. On and off throughout the afternoon you could look outside and there was that creepy old guy sitting in his car. Staring right into the shop through the windshield of his car…. never moving, never blinking, still with both hands on the wheel. (There should have been some eerie fog flowing around his car….now that would have been even more creepy) At closing time, the old guy was still there. As soon as I starting to pull the doors down… he drove off. As the door came to their usual “thump” at the bottom…the shop radio went dead. You could hear a pin drop in the shop; the only noticeable noise was the old man’s car leaving the parking lot. When the car noise was all but gone…the radio started back up. It was like some page out of a horror movie…..Ok, Ok, it had to be just one of those moments when the station was changing a disc or something……but why right then??? So, the next time you are at a traffic light and you see an old guy with big bushy eyebrows…staring through the windshield, and who appears to have been in the latest horror flick at the theater, perhaps on his way to the asylum. Forget the red light, don’t make eye contact, don’t look back……….drive, drive far away!
  22. Have your husband read this story I did a couple of years ago. http://www.autoshopowner.com/article/automotive/gonzos-tool-box/back-door-irritation-r41
  23. Yes, it's a nice change, and such a true depiction of the real world out there. To watch my daughters and now my son drive off out of sight is not something any parent enjoys.... But life goes on. Great comments guys.
  24. Kids Are Great As a parent or a grandparent, kids are a part of your life. We try raising them to be good productive citizens and teach them right from wrong. They’re our blessing and can be our discomfort at other times. We watch them take their first steps, and lose their first tooth. Every day is a new adventure as they grow and grow. With the passage of time we all get older and so do our kids. They start out as our little bundles of joy, and then before you know it, they’re a young adult. Now, it’s not formula and diapers or training wheels on their bike, it’s time for the open road, the ultimate statement of freedom, that teenage rite of passage … a car. A lucky few have a brand new car waiting for them, while others have to work for one on their own. For most average middle class families the solution is a cheap second hand car, or a car handed down from a relative. Sometimes it’s mom or dad’s old car or like what I had to do… I had to buy my own. It really doesn’t matter how a car shows up in the driveway, just having one is the important part. The ability to drive somewhere is what it’s all about. At this age, instead of asking you to read them a bed time story, all they want to know is if they can drive to the football game or not. Priorities change for the teenager; however for the parent, the paternal instincts kick in a little stronger. Moms tend to worry more about their little babies getting into a wreck while the dads tend to worry whether or not the car will make it home with the transmission still in one piece. Of course those roles reverse all the time, and sometimes that parental instinct can manifest itself in all sorts of manners based on other factors like; how late you are, a speeding ticket, or when you forgot to put the car in park and it rolled down the driveway creating that new entrance into the garage. For me, as a mechanic… kids are great for business. Those second hand cars are hardly ever checked out beforehand. Even if they were, a lot of times these well used vehicles come with a bit of baggage. Bald tires, bad shocks, check engine light on… etc… All the more reasons why it was so cheap in the first place. Recently it was a 2000 Contour that was handed down from one relative to the next and ultimately to this lucky teenager. The engine ran but I wouldn’t call it all that great. It had a severe surging idle and a service light glaring at you. The donating relative had the car at a repair shop just before handing it down to the teenager. It’s one of those places a respectable mechanic wouldn’t even recommend having your kids tricycle repaired at. You could tell what their method of repair was; “read code – change whatever part is mentioned in the description – if that didn’t work – try another part”. Needless to say, there were a lot of new parts bolted on everywhere you looked. The problem, a pretty simple one, if they would have taken the time to diagnose it, and not just throw parts at it, but that’s not how some people operate. All it needed was a new vacuum hose and two of the leads to the O2 sensor were cut by a careless mechanic who left the harness dangling near the alternator pulley. Easy fix. But, that was just the start of the story on this one. Then it was a starter lead that fell apart, and a battery terminal, connections here and connections there. Most the problems I found were the results of somebody fiddling with it and not securing clips and fasteners. Some of the fasteners even looked as if they were trying to take them apart with a crow bar. It took a bit of work, but it was up and running in no time. The last trip in was for new front brakes and rotors. Not a fault of shoddy mechanic work, but your average wear and tear. Although with a newbie driver things can get a lot worse than they really needed to be. A lack of experiencing the sound and feel of the metal backing plate grinding away on the rotor could be one reason, or it could be they are concentrating so hard on staying between the lines and stopping at intersections that they don’t notice it at all, I’m not sure which it is. There’s a learning curve there that each teenage driver has to go through. They’ve got to learn about the gauges and warning lights, how the car handles, and how important it is not to let the wiper arm drag across windshield without a blade attached. ] It’s not the first time (or the last) that I’ve had mom or dad at the service counter handing over the credit card to pay for the repair with that parental look (Yea… you know the look.) while saying to their offspring something like, “You know, you’re going to have to work this off!” Yea, yea… sure pops… say what ya want, but the next time the car breaks down you’ll be back here handing that same card over, and giving that same speech again. (Chuckle, chuckle) Like I said, “Kids are great!” their great for business! Every year there’s a new batch of them, and another batch of second hand cars that need attention. Then they’ll head off to college and I probably won’t see the car again until spring break. Hopefully, as time moves on so will that dilapidated second hand car. These future leaders of the world can take these years and learn a little something along the way about proper car maintenance and remember what that awful sound is when the brakes are metal to metal. Lesson learned. They’ll get older too, and they’ll start a family of their own. Then the whole cycle starts all over again. More second hand cars or another hand-me-down archaic 4 wheeled dinosaur comes out of grandpas shed for the youngster. Because, you know, those old “tanks” are a whole lot safer. (Pffft … yea right, not like I haven’t heard that one before.) It’ll need some tinkering to get it road ready for the next teen driver in the family, and I’m sure I’ll be called to duty to handle it. Yep, job security at its finest. Over the years I’ve loved to watch kids come in with their parents when I’m servicing their cars, and then to see that same little one now behind the wheel. I guess I’m part of the family in a way, just not the one paying the bill. Cause ya know, those teenage drivers like their freedom to drive but they haven’t left the nest entirely, at least not financially. They still need a little help in that department. I’m just as guilty, because I do the same for my kids too. View full article


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