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Showing posts with label unhandyman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unhandyman. Show all posts

23 February 2012

Automotive Archnemesisery

No, I don't think it's a word either.

In accordance with prophecy, we drove down to Parris Island last night. By we, I mean I drove the whole way and the wife got to sleep some. After we arrived, we had about a half hour downtime, during which my body decided it would have none of that, and I was forced (by my body) to sleep instead of going to family day to congratulate my brother-in-law.

I'm told in retrospect it was the right decision because of the back pain others incurred. Apparently Marine Corps boot camp is hard on everybody in proximity.

While driving down, we made remarkably good time, hitting no traffic, which is a borderline miracle when going around DC. Right after we got back on to I-95, though, I felt the car kick as the tachometer showed a jump of about 500 rpm suddenly at around 65 mph.

This displeased me.

The darned car has been stalking me, waiting until I was vulnerable before striking. Shortly after our first stop in Roanoke Rapids, NC, it kicked again and the Service Engine Soon light came on.

Three-hundred sixty-one miles short of my destination.

20 February 2012

Trunk Junk: An Automotive Postscript

The Service Engine Soon light has not returned today, so that's a good sign. We also failed to get a single millimeter of precipitation from the supposed big winter storm that was to hit our area last night.

Which is an annoying sign.

Emboldened by my recent auto repair, I decided on a whim to attempt another feat of car fixerry. For years now we've had a problem with the trunk of the car, in which holding down the automatic trunk release button on the keychain had no effect. I noticed recently that it at least made a sound, so I decided to check it out. Here are the results.


You know that thing they say about mechanics trying to rip you off? Apparently it's true.

19 February 2012

Fermented Anger: An Automotive Saga

Sometimes when people learn that I'm a professor or get to see me display my professorial knowledge they'll comment something to the effect, "Wow. You're so smart."

And they manage to say it without seeming sarcastic, which is weird.

Since my job is to try to teach people something they all think they can't learn (another language), I often point out to them that it's not so much that I'm smart as that I am better educated in a specialized field.

Even if I'm smarter than most of them.

I say all of that to lead to this fact: I am a complete idiot when it comes to cars.

This is what the guys at Advance Auto Parts see when I come in.
When I was in 11th grade, my high school had us take the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB). At the time, I knew even less about tools like wrenches or the fabled socket wrench than I do right now. I would not be surprised if I said they were some kind of screwdrivers.

The military told me to be a social worker.

18 February 2012

My Life with the Suicide Car

The check engine light in my car came on today. This made me cross.

I'm totally taking my business to Burger King then.
The incident occurred just before I dropped the Space Monkey off at work. My mood regarding this was not aided by the part where she shifted the car into neutral at a stoplight.