As I was driving into work this morning I noted that the skin on my sternum and upper rib cage is a tad sensitive. Feels as if I’m bruised. I stopped playing hockey years ago, so it is an unusual feeling these days. I racked my brain trying to figure out how I did this. Then it all came back to me… Saturday night Nick & I went down to the weekly “cruise-in” at the Burger King at the south end of town. I don’t have any photos as I forgot my memory card for my camera. (d’oh!) We wandered around looking at cars. The turnout was very good since it had been a warm sunny day and this time of year it stays twilight for hours at a time here above 48° N.
As we were packing up to leave I looked down into my open bonnet and noted a minor anomaly:
I noted that the grease cap of the upper A-arm on the driver’s side suspension had popped off. There is a “circlip” (Brit-speak for snap-ring) there that holds it down. The circlip had popped out but miraculously the cap, shims, and spring remained in place! There are two parts stores (Schuck’s & Auto Zone) very close to the cruise-in locale so I visited both looking for a replacement snap-ring. Unfortunately these retail establishments are really just ‘accessory stores’ these days. If I needed a carbon-fiber key ring, or some car wash they could have helped, but no actual parts could be found.
I put the cap and shims into a paper towel and gently drove home. The next day I went to NAPA and found the proper-sized circlip/snap-ring with ease. The hard part came next. I tried putting it on by hand. This involved squeezing my upper body between the tire and bonnet, and trying to push down on the spring with the cap with one hand, while installing the circlip with the proper pliers with the other. This was frustrating. It would have been helpful to have five hands… with very small, yet super-strong fingers. I have pretty strong fingers, but “very small” is never a term anyone would use to describe them.
What I really need is some device to hold the cap in the proper position while I use two hands to insert the circlip. I have a puller I used to detach the tie rode ends last year during my steering rack work. Unfortunately it is too small for the job. Conceptually however, it is just what I need. Back to the NAPA.
I picked up an adjustable puller, which should come in handy anyway, and started trying to finish this job. Did I mention there is the first JCNA Slalom of the season coming up this weekend? Yeah, I want to get this car fixed… as much as I’d like to take the TDI out on the slalom course it just wouldn’t be the same. Smoky, but not the same.
The problem with the puller was getting it adjusted and positioned just right, and then having it stay there. At least stay long enough to get the circlip pliers into action. Imagine me wedged like Winnie the Pooh in Rabbit’s doorway between the tire and the bonnet, barely able to peer over the tire down at the A-arm, as I gently try over and over to get the puller pushing the cap down properly. Countless times it either went off-center, the shims slid out, or the entire thing would pop off at the least opportune moment. A stream of expletives poured forth to accompany my usual crashing high notes of dropped wrenches.
It did not matter how I configured the puller: Long and holding the lower lip of the wheel-side bits, or short holding onto the upper A-arm itself. It always popped off when I least expected it. It drove me crazy. I flipped the puller arms around, tried different anchor spots. No matter what, just about when I’d have the thing positioned right… pop, clang, “@#$%! ^&*+! $#¡†!!!” This is how I got these bruises on my chest… the loud swearing. I’d bellow some choice four-letter word and my chest expanded rapidly, crushing my skin against the tire. Sure, there was some pain, but the ANGER and FRUSTRATION completely overwhelmed it. My rib cage is going “hey, um brain? hello? can you knock that off please… it hurts.” Meanwhile the brain is stomping around the room shouting like a madman in a bunker, oblivious to the body parts elsewhere sending urgent messages.
I finally gave up and pushed the car around and onto the lift, raised it up and removed the wheel. What happened next has me literally gobsmaked in embarrassment and shame. With the car off the ground the suspension hung there at an angle that I could plainly see the puller would not work. So I put a jack stand under the lower A-arm and gently lowered the car onto it. To my never ending shock the job became brain-dead simple with the car’s weight removed from the suspension. I literally just dropped the cap on, pushed it down with one finger, and the circlip went right in using the pliers to compress it. No drama. No struggle. No need to even use the puller. Presto.
So here I wasted several frustrating hours, wrestling with parts and car, wedging myself in a tight space to the point of nearly breaking my ribs… all for naught.
I guess the best lessons are the hard ones.
Good thing you had the lift.
Indeed. Best $850 I have ever spent! I love having it.
ha – next time it will be quicker Chuck!
and you really are dedicated with your camera… given the words being spoken and frustration going on, using the camera would be the last thing on my mind!
Jerome
“With the car off the ground the suspension hung there at an angle that I could plainly see the puller would not work. So I put a jack stand under the lower A-arm and gently lowered the car onto it. To my never ending shock the job became brain-dead simple with the car’s weight removed from the suspension. I literally just dropped the cap on, pushed it down with one finger, and the circlip went right in using the pliers to compress it. No drama. No struggle. No need to even use the puller. Presto.”
And THAT is the stuff one CANNOT learn froma book, and that which makes old mechanics worth what they charge. We know *where* to smack it with a hammer…. 🙂
I so (literally) feel your pain, CG..
I spent most of last Sunday, bent over the unhatched hatch opening of Tweety, mauling the fuel tank into place. Today, Wednesday, my chest, from armpit to armpit, is *still* sore as, as if someone whacked me right across the chest with an axe handle.
It’s not so bad that I cannot even cross my arms, like it was, but still tender.
You need my handy-dandy qwik release bonnet pins, to make working under the bonnet easy!
I’m ETERNALLY grateful I no longer do this (wrenching) as gainful employment. There’s a reason there are VERY few old mechanics….
“…shouting like a madman in a bunker…”
Ah, truly one of the BEST movies regarding Hitler; Bruno Ganz’s depiction of Hitler-as-madman is pure theater, taken to a sublime level. Made me add it to my Netflix queue, to see again!
FWIW: Take this from an ex-madman, of the automotive type; I was a *tyrant* when I was younger, cussin’ and swearin’ at cars. Drove my VERY mild-mannered Dad nuts, till one day, in a fit of anger at some car (most likely an E-Type!) I THREW a 9/16ths box end wrench THROUGH a 1/2″ thick piece of plywood. I was maybe 23 or so. It stuck there, halfway thru the plywood, like a Snap-On version of Excalibur.
Now, anyone who’ve ever tried to force a hole thru plywood can appreciate this feat: I was so stunned at what I’d done, I INSTANTLY forgot what it was I was pissed at, and thought, “Holy crap…what if that wrench had been sailed toward a being, like say, oh, MY DAD??” I quite literally could’ve killed someone, doing such a dumbass thing.
I’d literally damaged myself with my temper before, but those incidents didn’t get thru my thick-as-two-short-planks head; the innocent, now-impaled creeper sat there, showing me just EXACTLY how unhinged one can get..and a small glimpse into what damage such irrational behavior can beget.
From that day on, though I got irritated (and still do so) at the task at hand, I’ve NEVER thrown/tossed/pitched another thing in my life. Not hard, at least….
🙂
There were several attempts Jerome, The camera accompanied me on one of the latter ones, and was still there when I finally got it right. I actually own 3 cameras and try to have one with me at all times. 🙂
Nice story about the thrown wrench Paul. It is odd, how as boys we always wish for more strength, thinking it is a key to some advantage in life. Then somewhere around 19-23 we realize how both how strong we’ve become, and how damaging it can be, and spend the next segment of our lives learning to dial it back.
Christopher served as a “gopher” at my office for a while last summer, and was given a wrench to open a wooden shipping crate. The Facilities Manager gave him the “lefty loosey” speech without demonstration and left him alone. Chris, being a “Lefty” was turning the bolts overhand to the left, rather than the usual right-hander’s overhand to the left, and managed to break six lag bolts in half. Completely unaware of how strong he had become.
There’s strong, and there’s stupid; To lose my temper as I used to, was just plain STOOPID! Strong? Not so much…massive, I’ll cop to!
🙂