Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Some days...

I see a story or pic and it brings back a memory from days gone by.
Back in the mid 80's I was looking at a used car. There was evidence of possible problems, a cracked head to be exact, so I was delving deeper to find out if it was steal or a rip off.
While I was working on it, a neighbor to the seller came up and asked if I could give her a ride to Walmart. She needed to get oil for her boy friends car and didn't want to drive it there. The vehicle in question was a pretty sharp Mustang. He was a GI, and was in the field for a week. he had told her to check the oil every time she drove it.
She went on to say that she had looked at it before leaving for work that morning, it was low, so she added what oil he had at the house, but it was still low.
How much did you put in?
Seven quarts was all he had left. (apparently he had bought a dozen, done an oil change, and used five. my guess any way.)
I walked down to her place, popped the hood, and pulled the dipstick. Oil literally flowed out of it when I did. I got my drain pan, crawled under, and pulled the drain plug. After draining out what looked to be seven quarts, I put the plug back in, let everything settle, then rechecked. Using a funnel, I got all seven quarts filled back up and cleaned off.
I guess it could have been worse, she could have filled the washer fluid instead.
Let this be a lesson to you men out there. not every girl, and frankly, a few men, know nothing about vehicles. If you have daughters, teach them how to do an oil change.
My first wife was in college when we married. I was in the Army. She came to Kansas for a visit. we noticed a slight thunk when she shifted her car. on checking it out, we found a bad U-joint No problem, pulled the drive shaft and went to the parts store. Problem! Her beater was old enough they didn't have the right one in stock and had to order one. Bigger Problem, I was on Post Guard the next day, 24hr shift.
She showed up at the barracks around supper time. brought me dinner! After a few minutes sitting on the bench with her, I asked how she had gotten from Manhattan to base.
Drove, duh.
Her car.
When the part arrived, she walked to the parts store and picked it up. She then installed it herself.
Her daddy taught her well.

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