Saturday, August 30, 2014

No Rest For The Wicked

I am beginning to suspect I was Genghis Kahn in a previous life and am paying for it now.

I just got done working four back to back twelve hour shifts and a ten to finish the week while getting five and six hours of sleep every night.

I am fucking wasted, tired to the damn bone.

Woke up a few minutes ago after finally getting a solid eight hours of sleep to hear my phone going off.

Scary movies can not fill me with dread like that fucking thing does.

Sure as shit, It's my baby girl has left me a message to call.

I love her more than life its self but when they are in their early twenties they generally don't call just to chat because they are so busy living.

A yep, called her back and she says her car, that recently got stolen and she got back a week later, is making funny noises.

God help me, I didn't want to ask but a guy has to do things he doesn't like sometimes.

I got to hear those famous words I have heard so many times before, it's making a grinding noise when I hit the brakes.......

Fuck. Me..

You would think that being the daughter of a mechanic that she just might know what that noise is but no, she is a real girl and things mechanical are magically propelled and ewww, gross, look at your finger nails Daddy.

Living in Oregon, she doesn't even have to pump her own gas.

So here we go, I told her to get her narrow little ass over here pronto so I can do a brake job on the fucking thing.

I am silently praying to the Gods of Internal Combustion that she called before the fucking rotors are wiped clear the fuck out.

I don't currently have an abundance of money for that shit.

The To Do List is already so damn long that there is no end in sight for that shit anyway and it's like pulling teeth trying to get any help around here so I am going to have to start knocking them out a little at a time, right after I get done with this brake job and take a long nap, maybe.


Well, that could have been worse.
It turned out to be the back brakes, I didn't even get past the front of the house before I figured that out.
Then I was thinking, great, brakes shoes.
Those are a pain in the ass because of the fucking springs and clips and shit but this thing actually had rear disc brakes.

Which brings us to the next issue.
Rear disc brakes on modern cars also have the parking brake incorporated into the caliper and you need a special tool to screw the piston in instead of just squeezing it in like the front ones.

Because I actually did this crap for a living for many years, I just happen to have that tool.
A quick call and a short trip to the local NAPA parts store and her whipping out the card for the $25 bucks and I was all over it.

She paid me with something you can't buy, I got a hug.
Yes, I made her pay for the parts.
I'm not a heartless bastard, it is part of growing up and I have to say I did a damn fine job of raising that girl.

She is very pretty, a petite young lady who happens to be half Mexican and is very nice.

There is only one problem.

She has my attitude about certain things. Like I said, I did a damn fine job.

Look out world, she's coming your way.

Can't say I didn't warn you.


Sixbears said...

Our daughters have a way of suddenly going to the top of the priority list. I'm glad all mine know how to use to tools.

Phil said...

Ain't that the truth.
I don't do as much as I would like to for the little darlin' but this is something you don't put off no matter how tired you are.

stevierayv said...

Fixing shit yourself is good even if you are whipped.Hang in there.

drjim said...

Always a "Stop the presses" moment when your little girl calls with car problems.

My son calls for advice, and tool borrowing, but he always gets the job done, and returns my tools clean.

And right after I had my heart attack, he was johnny-on-the-spot here whenever I needed help with something.

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