February 18, 2007

It’s cold. It’s damned cold!

A Noreaster blew through here the other day. Fortunately, we only got the outskirts of the storm - artic cold, high winds, freezing rain and light snow. It made for hazardous driving, and some nasty looking salt-caked vehicles.

Driving around proved difficult because I couldn’t hardly see out the windshield. The cheap-assed washer fluid was a frozen block, and it was hard to keep the windshield clear of all the wet muck being sprayed on it. Turning on the wipers just made a bigger mess than what was already there.

So, while out at lunch on Thursday, I decided, screw it - I’ll stop at the gas station and have them go ahead and add the Peak anti-freeze/de-icing fluid sitting in the back of the truck. That would’ve been a good idea had I have passed a gas station on my trip. Aggitated and irritated, I decided to go ahead and do it myself.

Now, I do know my way around cars. I am familiar with locations of the essentials - oil, gas, and most of the fluids. I thought it’d be easy.

That was a critical mistake.

I pulled into a parking lot, and grabbed the fluid. After figuring out where the latch was to open the hood, I opened it up and removed the cap to the washer fluid reservoir. The wind was cold and whipping, my scarf was blowing all over the place, and so was the washer fluid. That just irritated me even more, as I watched it splash all over the place.

Well, it didn’t take much to fill it up, which I thought was a little odd. I don’t know how much fluid actually went in as it seemed more splashed out than in. Knowing it was all a frozen block of ice, I didn’t think too much about it.

But then I noticed a most pecular thing. The fluid inside the reservoir was 1) overflowing, and 2) the color of light chocolate milk. Puzzled, as I screwed the cap back on, I looked closer. Then I looked closer around the engine itself and, in the left bottom corner, I noticed a black cap with a windshield on it.

“Oh shit, you idiot!” I thought.

You know that feeling of impending doom that comes over you when confronted with the realization you just did a very bad thing? I was starting to feel that way. What the hell had I just destroyed?

I looked at the fluid now spilled on the other side, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. Was it the oil? Coolant? Brakes? I had no idea. I went ahead and filled the fluid (in the *right* reservoir), closed the hood, and got back in the truck, then grabbed my reading glasses (did I fail to mention I use them for reading?), and pulled out the owner’s manual from the glovebox. Skimming the pages and index, I nervously began to search for a diagram of the engine. Dammit! I couldn’t find one.

The truck, which had been running the entire time, wasn’t making any strange noises - and I decided to drive it back to my office, about two miles away. On the way, I called Gary, and explained what I had done.

“I just f***** up the truck,” I told him. “Why, what’d you do? … You did what?” he asked.

I told him about the cold, and the wind, and the light brown milky stuff. I told him I realized, after the fact, it was the wrong reservoir that I had filled. “Well, if it’s the power steering fluid, that’s not too bad,” he told me. “If it’s the oil, or brakes - you can really screw it up.”

Oh wonderful. It was going to be just my luck that I really screwed up the engine! I was back at the office now, frantic about what I had done - still cussing myself out in utter disbelief. I brought the manual in with me, and searched until I finally found a diagram of the engine. Power steering fluid!

I informed Gary, who assured me that it was okay - I hadn’t damaged the engine. A pump, or some bushings, maybe. “A pump?” I asked? “Yeah, that’s not bad - that’d be about $200 - $300 to repair. “Are you sure I didn’t screw it up?” I asked. “I don’t think so,” he told me. I told him I’d call my mechanic.

“You did what? Oh, that’s not good,” my mechanic tells me. It was starting to look pretty dismal. He wanted me to have it towed back to his garage, so I pulled out the handy-dandy AAA card to call a tow truck. As my luck would have it, I couldn’t get through to roadside assistance due to the heavy call load they were experiencing.

Meanwhile, my boss walked by my office door and, after giving him an update, he advised me to call the dealer. I didn’t want to call the dealer because I figured this mistake was going to be costly. He said again - “Call the Lincoln-Mercury dealer, they’re the experts.” I finally agreed, and gave them a call.

“Hi John, I did a very bad thing.” I proceeded to tell John the whole story. He put me on hold to speak with one of his mechanics. When he came back on the line, he said not to worry - it wasn’t that bad. We just needed to flush the steering fluid out, clean the reservoir, and replace it with fresh fluid. “How much is this going to me back?” I asked him. “Around $100,” he informs me.

John asked me to drive the truck over to him, so one of my colleagues and myself took a ride over to the dealer. A couple of hours later, my truck was ready. Washed even. But the kicker, the washer fluid was still frozen! All that and still frozen!

Hopefully, it’s going to warm up here to at least above freezing. Wonder how long it’s gonna take to thaw the ice block?

I can look back on this now with a degree of humor. Earlier - not so funny. I’ll write this one off as the ultimate comical act of momentarily diminished intelligence.

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