Truck broke at the grocery store downtown. This being a city, a guard patrols the lot and writes tickets if you stay more than three hours or walk off the walled shopping compound and onto the street. $63.00.
Jhase came by and neither of us could do anything to get the thing going so we walked over to the security kid and told him we’d like to get a beer at the beer joint down the corner.
“You can do that, but I’ll write you a ticket for leaving the lot.”
I started swearing at him, and he just stood there smiling. So I swore some more, and got out my phone to take his picture, which kind of tripped up my string of swears because I have to concentrate to turn it on, then find the camera button, and my timing was off because I was done my swear and the camera hadn’t activated yet. There was an awkward moment where no one was saying anything and I was looking at my phone. Then I had to aim it and still no one was saying anything. I wish I could just be in the moment and not think about blogging at a time like this.
Inhuman dildo or guy doing his job?
I got a good one of him, and then I told him, “You’re not human.” I was back in my stride. I didn’t bring up the fact I’d already walked out to an auto parts store and replaced a hose, just any old thing under the hood thinking it would make my bearded lady happy and turn over. Which it didn’t. Now, when I ask permission to walk away, I’m denied? What am I learning here?
The kid told me to call the number on the sign, which I did, and got a voicemail about what address to send your complaint letter to. So I asked the kid who he calls when he talks to his supervisor. (Doesn’t it feel awesome to tell someone you want to speak to their supervisor? It’s kind of like shouting, ‘I’m a total dickhead!’ Sometimes I am.)
“I’m not allowed to give out that number,” was his answer.
I was frustrated. I’ll admit it. I’ve never been into punching dudes randomly unless they’re my friends and we’re drunk, so I didn’t know what to do. I had called him an inhuman dildo and asked to talk to his supervisor. My bag of tricks was now empty. I’ve been to court many times and I just don’t like it, and that’s where I’d go if I jammed his digital clipboard down one or up the other.
I turned to Jhase and he said, “Trader Joe’s sells beer.” He’s reasonable.
“But it’s not cold,” I told him. As though injustice will never really end.
We strolled through TJ’s, I picked up a Cobb salad hoping to calm down, Jhase got some carrot juice, and we talked about what we’d just been through. The kid out there had made some interesting points in between my defamations.
“You work for yourself, not all of us do. You can choose what you do, but my boss tells me what to do. He tells me not to give out his number, and he tells me to write people tickets if they leave the parking lot. In the past people have told me their car was broken and they go watch a ball game. I see them drive away later and they say, ‘It’s working now!’.”
He made some other points, and all in all, he was explaining why he was a robot. Which when done well creates sympathy in me for robots.
So the tow truck came and we were out of there. It’s probably the starter, since when Jhase hit it with the monkey wrench I keep under the seat for the day I no longer worry about going to court, it almost went. My truck is diesel and has two batteries, and it is hard to start. Every morning it takes a full minute to finally crank over. That little starter gets a workout. Shouldn’t be too hard to switch out, since I have a Chilton’s manual.*
“Be careful, it’s heavy.” That’s the advice they give me for $25?
It only took two steps.
1. Find the starter
2. Remove it.
But for those that like to read, they offer some additional instruction.
LIke for instance, they let you know there are two types of starters. No where does it tell you how to identify the type you own. Which would help. Kragen showed two options, but only stocks one, so that’s the one I took. It looks like the thing dripping grease bolted under my engine. Only Kragen’s is cleaner. And probably broken as well.
I’ll stop right here and say I hate working on cars. Always have. I follow step one for Solenoid Actuated Type. I remove the battery ground cable. Which is possibly the same as the negative battery cable referred to in the Positive Engagement Type up above. So why can’t they call it the same thing? That’s one of many problems I have with this book. I understand electricity a little. There is a negative, a positive and a ground. But do car batteries have three posts? No, there are two. Like a 9 volt battery. So how do I find my trucks ground cable? No mention of such a thing in the index of my Chilton’s manual. I remove the black one wrapped around the minus sign. Thank you.
Under the truck on my back I put a wrench on the wires feeding into the starter solenoid. Sparks shower down on me. I guess I need to undo the positive wire on the first battery as well. Which I do, but wish the manual had told me.
I’m back under the truck. More sparks. I bang my eyebrow against the steel frame. It hurts. I undo every wire going anywhere near eithr of the batteries in my truck and that of course works.
Step 3. “Remove the two bolts attaching the steering idler arm to frame.”
What the fuck is that? I’m not a mechanic, that’s why I bought a picture book. How about cross referencing to a picture somewhere else, so I know what it looks like? Again, the index is useless. At this point it is dark and my drop light doesn’t have a shield and it blinds me and when I move it burns the hair on my head and I need to go upstairs and do my taxes. They’re due in two days.
(*I should say I have a new, second, Chilton’s manual because Dastard never sent me my old one…)
