Bob

Batz

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September 11, 2009

The Day I Tried to Fix My Car

I’m not mechanically inclined.

I know guys who can repair cars, build entire garages and overhaul computers.

I tried to fix my own car.

Once . . . last Thursday.

My decision to tackle auto repairs for the first time came when my vehicle’s engine began making strange sounds, which included whirs, bangs, squeaks and rattles.

The first thing I did was dig out my rusty old tool chest, which was buried under my first wife Sally’s 456,787-or-so assorted Christmas decorations in a dark, dusty corner of the basement.

Then, after donning a five-sizes-too-large-for-me pair of coveralls I found in that same dark corner, I climbed the stairs. When I reached the garage, I raised the hood of my car and peered inside.

Standing there looking down into the engine compartment, I was dumbfounded. I’d never seen so many wires and screws and bolts in my whole life. All of a sudden I gained tremendous respect for all those auto mechanics who over the years have fiddled around with my car engines and somehow made them purr again like proverbial kittens.

Then, just as I was about to bend over and enter the mysterious world of wires, screws and bolts and little metal and plastic things, it dawned on me that I should probably take a peek at my owner’s manual in hopes to see if it offered me some valuable tips on repairing my car before I actually tackled the task of doing it.

So I extracted myself from under the hood, banging my head in the process, opened the driver’s door and reached across the seat to fetch my manual.

Like most car-owners I keep my manual in the glove box, which is another mysterious thing about the automobile.

People call those compartments “glove boxes,” but the truth is that very few people actually store their gloves in those glove boxes. They do, however, keep other items in those compartments, including pencils, pens, prescription medications, maps, can openers, notebooks, screwdrivers, sunglasses, napkins, flashlights and losing scratch-off lottery tickets.

Once I found my manual and started flipping the pages, I discovered it’s not exactly Gone With the Wind when it comes to reading material.

Like the jumble of thingamajigs tucked away under the hood of my car, the owner’s manual is also a tad confusing to me. Some auto repair tasks are relatively easy to understand, like how to change the windshield washer fluid and replace a blown fuse.

More, though, like the proper procedure for replacing a fuel pump shut-off switch, require a tad more planning and thought.

I’ve had dozens of cars in my lifetime, but I’ve never replaced a fuel pump shut-off switch.

Though I’m perfectly aware of the purpose of a fuel pump shut-off switch – I’m thinking it shuts off the fuel pump – I didn’t have the foggiest idea how to replace one, so when my engine started making all those weird sounds, I consulted my 232-page owner’s manual.

Unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky when it came to diagnosing my car's whirring-banging-squeaking-rattling engine.

Eleven times I read the owner's manual from cover to cover. Eleven times I came away totally confused by what I read.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I picked up the telephone, called my favorite auto mechanic and asked him to stop by the house.

That done, I grabbed a cold beer out of the refrigerator and plunked down in my favorite lawn chair.

Life is good.       

Contact Bob at bbatz@woh.rr.com

© 2009 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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