Tuesday, July 20, 2010

So, what ever happened to my little clunker on Sunday?

Tonight Raph and I had dinner at La Fogata, one of our favorite authentic Mexican restaurants in Bonita.  When I told him I had blogged about my car hysteria the other day, he said, "well honey- did you tell them how it all turned out?"

Originally I was going to just let this little tale fade into oblivion, mostly because a mechanic's ego can be very fragile.  But he suggested it, so I will share.  This is how it all went down:

Right around the time he pulled into my condo, it started to rain.  So we had to wait until the rain cleared for him to even take a look, which was just enough time for him to reprimand me for not having told him about the strange noise a little sooner.  It was, after all, Sunday night and we both had to get up early.  So, he finally scoped it out and drove it around the block a time or two.  He concluded that we'd have to take it out to his house no matter what (the old people in my community don't care for any type of activity that would make it look like the "working class" live there, so working on your car is not an option).  So, we began to make the half-hour drive and decided to stop at Advance for a wheel bearing, just in case that was the problem.  (At this point I was just pleased that it wasn't all in my head... because when I first described it to Raph over the phone, he asked me calmly, "did you check for nails in the tires?"  Oh ye of little faith!)

When we got home we were met by a pooed-in Maverick cage, which was like a sweet little cherry on top of the disaster Sundae (Sunday, literally).  So, since it was almost 9 pm by now, I grabbed a headlamp and Raph grabbed some spotlights.  He went his way to work on the car, and I went mine to begin cleaning out Mav's cage and bedding.  What a romantic evening!  I was deep in my clean-up process, about a half-hour later, when Raph came waltzing in with all his tools, as though he was done.

"Well, your car is fixed," he said.
"Oh YAY!"  I said, "what was it?"
"It was completely my fault."
"What?"  I was bewildered.  Not my personal mechanic.  He  doesn't make mistakes.  Or does he?

Long story short, he didn't tighten the bolts or nuts or screws or whatever it all is the last time he took the wheel off.  He tightened them, but apparently not enough because the wheel was hanging on by a thread!  (My original diagnosis of something hanging on by a thread wasn't so far off, see?)  Apparently the wheel could have gone flying off, leading to a major accident! 

I was just glad because it wasn't my fault.  Also, it's strangely satisfying when he's wrong.  (Don't tell.)  He was secretly glad because it gives him a reason to purchase another tool: a torque wrench.  And Maverick, well, he's feeling better now.  No more accidents.  But next time, the mechanic is cleaning it up.

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