Not on my own either of course.
The Wifely unit had to go to her folks last week to take them to some doctor appointments, much, much drama going to be coming from that quadrant in the near future.
While she was there Thursday, parked out in front of their place, apparently some kid backed out of a driveway across the street, right into the drivers side front fender on her little Whoopty.
Being that it’s my wife, she didn’t bother to tell me this and I had to find this out from The Kid here on Friday.
More fucking drama.
Texting back and forth about what to do about it, yadda, yadda, yadda.
At least the kid that whacked the car came and knocked on the door to let her know what happened and had insurance.
I told her to send me a picture of it because she said she couldn’t open the drivers door anymore and that something was rubbing and making a horrible noise when she turned to the right now. I told her to take it to the fucking Ford dealer a half mile from her folks and get a fucking estimate.
Oh no, can’t do that, gotta wait to hear from the kids insurance.
My reaction from here,
So we went round and round via text for a while until she decided to stay over there an extra day and then I could…. do something. Bring a lawn mower, some stuff to tide them over, pick them up, I dunno, it got weird.
So Saturday I drive the fuck over there with some tools and take a look see. It got hit right on the front tire so I was worried a tie rod, spindle or strut might have gotten bent. It didn’t look too bad and the noise was exactly what I thought it would be, the plastic inner fender got knocked loose and was rubbing the tire.
I jammed the inner fender back into place and drove it around, it’s fine. We finally got the fucking thing home Saturday and then I dicked with it enough to get the drivers door to open and close. She can deal with the insurance shit and get it fixed now. This is the third time it’s been hit. She got rear ended twice and let’s not forget the time The Kid hit something like a trench and blew both passenger tires and bent both rims, before driving it home on the flats a year or two ago.
On to the next item.
I did actually fuck with the Bronco a little yesterday, I got the stereo power wires straightened out so that it doesn’t kill the battery over night. I’ll spare you the details but you can bet your ass it was a clusterfuck in the end. Nice to have something to listen to besides the no muffler exhaust and the tire noise.
My youngest daughters 2005 KIA Spectra Five died in front of her sisters house clear back on Superbowl Sunday.
In South East Portlandistan.
I went over there at least a month or two ago and diagnosed a bad alternator.
At the time my left wrist had decided to go shit house on me and I couldn’t even pick up a cup of coffee with it so wrenching on any cars was out.
Not to mention it was colder than a well digger’s ass back then.
I remember there was snow on the ground when I looked at it.
She was in no hurry to get it fixed anyway as she had just moved into the East side of down town Portlandistan and could just hop on a bus to get to work, minutes away.
The sister however, has been getting understandably irate about this broke down POS car sitting in front of her house ever since.
Today is Easter. It is also our oldest boy’s birthday and also my Grand daughters birthday. The Grand daughter being the child of my oldest daughter and they were throwing a birthday party for her. I told both my girls that I would be there, be there early and see about fixing this fucking car while I was there so get yer fucking credit card out if ya gotta and make sure the fucking keys are there.
It wasn’t real horrible to get out, right down in front on the passenger side. had to take the fans off the radiator and go through the inner fender well to get the pivot bolt out.
I did find out, yet again, that I am getting to be an old fucker though.
Whilst wrestling the damn thing in between the radiator and the heat shield on the exhaust manifold, I managed to scrape up both fore arms a bit. I really wasn’t paying much attention to it and after forty five years of wrenching, you get used to ignoring some pain until it gets obvious.
Next thing I know there is blood running down both of my fore arms clear to my wrists.
My skin is getting thin.
A dead sure sign of an old fart.
I wiped it off and went back at it until I got the fucker out.
About that point my son showed up but I had it out by then. I dragged my little girl, who was hung over and puking her guts out all morning, down to the parts house and got a new alternator for $160.
Got back, had my boy help me and we got it back together. I had put a battery charger on it the very first thing when I got there so it had been charging for a couple of hours. Turned the key on, clickety click, nothing.
We jump started it to make sure it would run and to check the alternator output.
Took the fucking battery out, grabbed the girl again, went and got a new fucking battery. Another $150, for something that looked like it came out of a garden tractor.
I shit you not.
Installed it and fired the damn thing up.
Got out a little 12 volt air compressor, aired up a low tire, took it on a little test drive and handed her back the keys,
Evahbody happy now.
Got cleaned up went inside, completely pigged out on some of the most delicious Mexican food I have had in years, did the Easter Egg Hunt thing for the little kids, open the birthday present thing and came home and took a fucking nap.
I still have to unload my tools and then I get to go back to work tomorrow.