Working on Your Own Car = "The SUCK"

I owned a Chevy S-10 ZR-2. The pickup with the off-road package...kevlar shields underneath, big 31" tires. I bought it new, with the intention of "running it into the ground." BAD maintenance issues started cropping up a few months before I paid it off, when I had to have fluid leaks fixed to the tune of $2,500!! (well, I paid a lot less, only because they made a deal with the regional service manager, but it would have cost that much).
Fast forward 16 months. I replaced the tires ($800), and while they were doing that, they found it needed a new front lower ball joint ($400) and a front bearing assembly ($600). $1800 later, they told me they found everything it needed.
Well, obviously not. 3 months later, I was planning to sell it, partly because I couldn't carry the whole family and partly because I wanted to drive a fast sedan. So I took it to the dealer and asked them to find EVERYTHING it needed. In no particular order, they found it needed:

Well, I decided I don't want to list all of it. Suffice to say it totals $2,800. Ish.

So, I decided to sell the truck. But the brakes (at least the rear brakes) HAD to be done...they were scraping.

The Reader's Digest version of what happened:

Father in law loaning me the jack and jack stands. Finds out they're at my brother-in-law's. 2 hour round trip to pick them up.
Jacked it up, took off the wheels...rotors won't come. Sledge, sledge, sledge...they won't come. After 2-3 hours of this, sprayed some break-free in, and finally get them off. Find I need new parking brake shoes...$80 for the pair. Trip to the Chevy parts department and back. Get the shoes on, CAN'T get the new rotors on. Rubber mallet, rubber mallet, rubber mallet. Finally use lug nuts W/washers to move it on, over the new parking brake shoes. Cross thread (slightly?) one lug nut!!! Go to put one caliper on...won't go on. Little piston in the caliper bracket is rust-frozen!!!. Hammer, hammer, hammer...NOTHING. 3 different parts stores...none carry them. Thank God I let my fingers do the walking. Chevy parts is closed. SCREWED for the day now. Borrow father-in-law's car, drove him home. Truck is in the garage minus one caliper, on all 4 wheels, ready to be jacked up again another day. Have to get the caliper bracket from a Chevy parts counter.

I realize what my father-in-law said...this was just unusually difficult. But I think this has cured me from EVER fantasizing about having my own jalopy and doing the work myself. EVER. EVER EVER EVER!!!

UPDATE: Well, day 2 of working on the truck started promising. I had the caliper bracket I needed; just needed to swap that on and be done with it. Weeelllll, the piston on the cliper was popped out, and when I went to push it back in, "squirt!", brake fluid. Ugh. Well, couldn't reseat the caliper, so I just swapped in the new one I had. Attached the brake line, and "drip, drip, drip." No matter how much I tightened it. Step on the brake pedal, and "SQUIRT" LOTS of brake fluid.

So I threw up my hands, gave up on it, and used my free AAA tow to get it towed. A mechanic finished it up.

Ummm...Directory "Assistance???"

We just returned from a family vacation to Colorado. On the way back, we routed through South Dakota so the kids could see Mt. Rushmore. I had spotted a book in the gift shop I wanted, but it was $35 and I figured I could be a cheapo and get it on Amazon for less when we got home. No such luck...it was $80 on Amazon. It wasn't available on the Mt. Rushmore gift shop web site, so I decided to call the gift shop at the memorial and ask about buying it from them over the phone.
When I decided to call, I wasn't near an internet connection to look up the number, so I called the old standby, 411.

Here is how the first call went:

(operator): What city and state, please?
(me): I guess Custer, South Dakota...that's the closest town I see...I need the number for the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial.
(op): the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial?
(me): Yes.
(op): and what type of business is this?
.....pause.....
(me): it's...the...national...memorial...?
(op): I have the Mt. Rushmore Natioanl Memorial Society, in Rapid City...
(me): (thinking I'd just call there and they'd have the number I needed) fine, I'll take that number.

Well, the society was closed for the day. So, thinking "that was just one oddball directory assistance person, I'll just call 411 again," I called back and got a (thank you) different directory assistant...

(op): what city and state, please?
(me): Near Custer, South Dakota, I need the number for the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial.
(op): The Mt. Rushmore National Memorial?
(me): yes
(op): Is that the water department?
.....pause.....
(me): no, it's the actual memorial, with the presidents' heads carved in the mountain...?
(op): Well I have a number for the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial...
(me): That will be fine.
(op): here's the number...


Who says education in America is in decline?

On Fatherhood 2...

It's Father's Day 2008.

I miss my dad terribly. It's been 13 years since we lost him, and still not a day goes by that I don't think about him. As I tell people, "it's hard being a dad without one." Dad was a huge baseball fan. And now, every time Sparky's having a tough time at the plate, and he's on his 4th, or maybe 5th and final pitch of the at bat...every time I've asked my dad "please help him hit this pitch"...you know that it's worked every single time. So I guess he's not so far away after all.

As for my two sons, it is wholly my honor to be their father. So thank you, boys. I am so very proud to be your dad.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads everywhere.

On Fatherhood 1...

My oldest son, "Sparky," is in his first year of baseball. I'm not an official coach, but I'm one of the dads who helps out. Sort of by default, my customary position has been first base coach. I didn't think there would be much action down there...at this level, the hitters are limited to singles, no steals...not much to do as a first base coach. I wondered at times why I should even stand out there.

Well, I found my answer. And now, halfway through the season, I've begun pushing the other dads out there to take an inning or three. Because what I've experienced is something every father of a son should get a chance to experience:

There is nothing quite like the feeling you get watching your son hit a baseball, and being there at first base to greet him when he reaches it safely.

On Tim Russert...

I never thought my first political blog entry would be thoughts on the passing of Tim Russert. I am a political talk show junkie, and I never missed Meet The Press with Tim hosting. As someone on TV said tonight, he was "as much a part of Sunday mornings as bacon, eggs, and a good cup of coffee."
Any eulogy I could offer would pale in comparison to those by leading journalists and political figures, who knew him personally, that will be offered in the days to come. I can only say this...in these Red State/Blue State days, where political reporting has morphed into polarized political opinion bloviating, I was never able to read Russert's political leaning in the way he conducted his interviews. It is his wonderfully artful neutrality that I will remember most.

I'll miss you, Mr. Russert.

Thoughts on Friday the 13th

So, the Big Iguana begins his blogosphere foray on the ominous Friday, the 13th...COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT.
I love Friday the 13ths. in fact, 13 is my lucky number. I love sports jerseys. Between baseball, football, and hockey, I probably have 12-15 jerseys. I like having numbers on them. And whenever I get a number put on, when I'm not trying to recreate a particular player's jersey, my number of choice is 13.
Even my 13th birthday was on Friday the 13th. Cool. I love when people get creeped out at that one.

Welcome to my blog

Well, I'm finally dragging myself, kicking and screaming, into a new vein of technological gluttony...the blog. Truth is, I thought about doing this 10 years ago, before anyone (well, at least me) had heard of a blog. I was going to call it BrainSponge...wringing out my brain, you know, like a sponge. Well, that blog name is taken now, and with my assumed secret identity of the Big (or Rabid) Iguana, this seemed like a suitable alternative blog title.

So welcome. I expect this blog to end up being many things...some random observations, some good stories, the occasional political rant, and hopefully a LOT of funny. It's one of my favorite things...to make people laugh.