car adventures

[ladycaviar]

So I replaced my kefarging distributor cap and rotor today. Neat trick, considering I don't know jack shit about how to do that. I didn't see how I had a choice, since every time it rained the car refused to run. So I whipped out my copy of Auto Repair for Dummies and it said your distributor cap is wet, dummy. So I went and got a new one, and I've got a Haynes manual for the Prelude. Not a great one, since it talks about only the model years I don't have..

Every time I go to a mechanic, I have these two stupid discussions. "Think your carburetor's clogged, ma'am?" "That'd be a neat trick, because I have fuel injectors." "But it's a Prelude," they say, looking at their computers. Look at the damn car, jerk, it says fuel-injected right on the engine. Now I have more sympathy for the other stupid discussion, which goes like this: "Want your automatic transmission fluid topped off, ma'am?" "No, that would ruin the gears, since it's a manual." "But it says it's an automatic," they say, this time looking at the car. Yeah, but this is the 6th (yeah, you heard me) transmission in the car, and after the first crappy one fell out, I had standards put in. "Can you do that?" they ask. No, jerk, I pushed the car here. Now stop asking stupid questions and put the oil I asked for in the freaking car...

But back to the goddamn distributor cap. Seems Mr. Engine doesn't want to go if Mr. Electricity doesn't get Distributed through Mr. Distributor, and Mr. Electricity doesn't like Mr. Corrosion, who invited himself in with Mr. Water, not that they asked me. I've been waiting for a nice day, but no, I'm an idiot and I have to do this in the sleet. Apparently, in order to work on my car, you have to be an idiot.

So I'm feeling all Idaho self-sufficient girl and I unfold the manual to the appropriate page with its crappy directions for a different model year of car than mine, and immediately I hate whoever designed this car. There is no way in hell to get a screwdriver into the engine to get the old fucker off. I am not strong enough to rip the hoses off, and already I'm in pain. Not a good sign. The neighbors are staring at the crazy lady swearing at the car in the sleet, and I haven't even started. Sweet.

I decided to use the screwdriver incorrectly as a prybar and a stripping tool and a hammer. Good mechanics are turning in their graves under shady trees somewhere, but not here, because I'm being pelted with sleet. Two HOURS later, I have removed most of my airflow system and the distributor cap. I am shaking with pain, but Whoo hoo. I flip it over, and

THERE'S NOT A FUCKING THING WRONG WITH IT! Why did I remove this thing? Do I have a starter problem? Perhaps I should slam the hood shut and pretend my car was vandalized. Wait, I don't have comprehensive, that won't work. Shit. So I pull on the rotor, and it won't come off. I have no strength whatsoever, and I hurt. I go inside for a Percocet, and I can't feel my hands.

I incorrectly use the screwdriver as a prybar again. Ok, I feel better. The rotor is so corroded I don't even know why my car started on dry days. Oh wait, why do I feel better? My distributor is toast. Hey, will WD40 fix that? Will Coke? Will bourbon? I get the WD40 and a Coke. I decide to try the WD40 on the car first and the Coke on me before I try the other way around. Works a treat.

I have no fear anyone will ever steal this car. They can't. Only I can make it run, and I suspect it's like Wonder Woman's plane--it runs on my thought waves, because it sure as hell doesn't run because it's mechanically sound in any way. Also, the neighbors seem to be frightened of me for some reason, and are shuffling the children away from me.

I incorrectly use the screwdriver as a hammer again to bash the rotor where I think it goes. I can't remember how the other one came off, and it's not like I can feel my hands anyway. I try to put the new cap on, and it's worse than taking it off--the evil fucker who designed this car expected me to fold space to put it back together. No wonder those idiot mechanics charge so much--they have to disassemble the whole damn car to get that one screw in. Apparently I am loudly swearing again, for I have frightened the mailman. Fuck him, flaunting his bravery in the sleet.

My plan of repeatedly yelling "AAAGH! AAAGH! AAAAGH!" with every misuse of this poor screwdriver seems to be working. Not that I can see anymore, things have frozen to my eyelashes, and my nose is dripping into the fusebox. Hah! One screw! Now for the second! Shit! It doesn't line up! Well! It's! Going! To! Because! Agh! I'm! Going! To! Kick! It! Mother! Fucker! Pus! Bucket! God! Damn! oh hello mr price, what a pretty dog, yes you are no I'm fine, thank you Son! of a Bitch! Get! In! There! You! Bastard! Ow! My! Back! I! Swear! To! God! If! You! Don't! Line! Up! oh holy shit it worked. Now to strip the threads on this screw, hah!

Ok, let's assemble all the hoses. Hmm. It seems, when one kicks the crap out of one's car, one loses all the hose clamps somewhere in the engine. That was another good 40 minute scavenger hunt. Did you know it's harder to get the hoses back on that to rip them off? I don't want to do this again, this sucks.

I make sure the car starts, yay. Boy it sure sounds better than it did before. I go in, clean up, fall over, and then I remember that you're supposed to replace the plugs & wires when you replace the rotor.

Luckily, just then, the power decided to go out at the house (I'm not making this up) so I took this as a sign from God I should lie the hell down and take a nap.

Comments

[bronx-baroness.livejournal.com]

By Athena's Eyebrows! You DID it girl!

And yes, it was a sign from God when the power went out. Me? I took a nap too. :) Of course when the power came back on again the iron on top of the dresser klicked on and made that toasty dust smell.

Idaho girls

[(Anonymous)]

So I'm feeling all Idaho self-sufficient girl

Hey, I'm a fourth-generation Idaho girl and I've never replaced a distributor cap or a rotor. I've never even changed a tire, although I've done brake jobs--in a garage with good lighting and a compressor to get the lugnuts off. I did have a tire shred last January while coming off the flying wye (only 55 mph with nowhere to pull off the road), but I called a tow truck and had all four replaced by Goodyear employees. Hell, they were seven years old. The tires, not the Goodyear employees.

In my experience, swearing at the car does help the screws line up properly. See, you were doing it right all along.

You go, baby!
Val

[torin3.livejournal.com]

Good to see you on livejournal.

Yes, the power going out was a sign. Rest more, swear more. :)