Wrench Monkey
Even though hungover and battling off a potential case of swollen tonsils, I had the best time this morning. I caught a glimpse into the world of brotherly/male bonding over car repair, and it was a blast.My roommate and numerous others can vouch that my brakes have sounded horrible over the past month. The front brakes were replaced a year ago and a just a little dirty, but the back brakes have never been changed in the 82K life of my car. So, the Pops and the Uncle offered to help me change the back brakes today. We didn't take the car for a drive beforehand to listen to the sounds; we just got crackin' on the job.* (This will be important later.)
Turns out the back brakes are fine for the next 10k miles. Kind of odd, considering the squealing I've heard, so we checked the front brakes, too. They were perfect. A definite head scratcher. We put the wheels back on the car and took it for a drive to try to determine the noise. NOT ONE DAMN SQUEAL. Murphy's Law.
Fine by me. I can save and/or go shopping with the 100 bucks I had set aside for the repair. But man, it was a really great time getting my hands dirty and learning something new. Pops and Uncle were great, explaining each part, how it should look in good working order, and the signs/noises to be really concerned about. I'm not a total babbling eejit when it comes to cars, but I had no clue what brakes really even looked like or how all the components came together. And during this whole time we were laughing our asses off and shooting the shit.
What a fantastic way to start the morning. Wake up pissed and hungover, spend three hours in a garage getting dirt under my fingernails, and leave with a little bit more knowledge, some good belly laughs and a whole lotta love in my heart. My cup was refilled this morning.
*A note to the ladies: When getting your tires changed or rotated, insist that the garage tighten the lug nuts by hand. The last place I went apparently had the air wrench set to tighten way too far, and it took half a can of WD-40, a lot of muscle straining by the Uncle, and three different tire irons to get the darn things off. I would have been completely screwed if I had to change a flat on the side of the road.**
**And if you don't know how to change a tire by yourself, learn. Heck, I'll teach you.
picked from the vine by sv @ 2:10 PM
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