The Oil of Change

     This popped up in my Facebook memories today and I realized how much fun it was to write. It also gave me a couple of giggles. I have another post for tomorrow ready to go and get this blog back in business. 

     After threatening to go get my oil changed the past 3 weekends I finally went to my usual shop on Saturday morning.  I was referred to my mechanics in the mid 90’s and I feel lucky to have been a customer since then. A good wrench is worth their weight in gold and some of the best I’ve ever known never worked in a shop, they were just shade tree mechanics that tinkered away their weekends. I learned how to repair cars the same way a lot of folks did, out of need, economic need. I bought an old Dodge van back in the 70’s that become the bane of my existence for a few years. It broke down so often I knew the tow truck drivers on a first name basis, thank God for AAA. I bought oil by the case, carried around a spare set of spark plugs and a box of spare parts I scavenged from the junkyard. It was such a craptastically fine example of 1970’s American car know how, that a friend offered to shoot it for me; I declined, though a few months later he did shoot his and got arrested.  The judge laughed when his charges were read in court and made my buddy promise to not do that again. For many years I spent a lot of weekend time under the hood of a car just to be mobile again on Monday. I sure don’t miss that stuff very much  though hanging with friends and swearing in harmony when things didn't quite work out as we planned made for some good times.

                                                                            

My Auto Shop teacher. The little puppy I had for a couple of weeks Four-Legged-Kids  is in the foreground. 

     I don’t work on cars anymore and haven’t done much other than simple stuff since I moved out here, even simple stuff like oil changes. I don’t have the space nor the inclination to store a collection of jugs or barrels full of used oil to take to the city a few times a year. Another part of that equation is apartments and HOAs have a tendency to absolutely freak out if they see the hood of a car up, so I've curtailed my activities if for no other reason than to avoid some stupid fine for being alive in public. That’s another rant for another day. I have come to take on my Dad’s attitude about car repair, he used say. ”those guys need to make a buck too”, though I think mainly he just didn't want to do it anymore and I have come to the same conclusion.  My mechanic laughed like hell when I told I didn't work on cars anymore unless the third number was a 7 and even then I think I would plead ignorance.  I am kind of enjoying my retirement from busted knuckles and knots on my big furry head.

                                                                             

   Pinto Explodabout, I had to change the plugs without fail every 3,000 miles or it wouldn't run worth a damn.

     My mechanic and I were talking about how the auto repair business has changed over the past 8-10  years and how there is less work to go around though it is more costly each time. He was telling me the last few years, mainly the last 4 or 5 that he does a lot of computer work, and has to take new classes every month just to stay current. Now he does a lot of hook the car to a machine, wait till it spits out a code and you have to decipher it, sometimes there are easy and other times they are as useful as most help files.  He said he doesn't get the same usual maintenance much for newer cars like brakes, belts, and plugs since the now make all of those in a form that can last 100,000 miles.  You just end up paying a lot more now when it goes kaput. We looked at what my maintenance guidelines were for my car. I’m about due to get my tranny filter changed, though I ‘m supposed to get another 50,000 miles out of my plugs and brakes. It boggles the mind after what I've been accustomed to for so many years. Now when I see an older car on the road that’s not a classic cool ride I wonder how that old thing is still running; then I grin because it’s either out of need or a labor of love.

                                                                           

                                                

    This '73 Chevy pickup managed to get us to Arizona and I drove it around for 5 more years with no A/C. I had this old girl for 10 years and it was definitely a labor of love keeping it on the road. Before I moved out here I bought a parts truck with a blown engine and swapped out the doors, the tail gate, and the leaf springs. The only original body parts left when I sold it was the cab, everything had been changed and if it hadn't been painted primer gray it would have looked like a patch work quilt. Now when I see another old Chevy truck on the road I wonder if this one is still out there too. The dinosaurs of the auto world always have some kind of appeal whether out of nostalgia or just the desire to have a sweet ride. The car I drive now is already a dinosaur, Chevy stopped making them a couple years ago, but most likely I'll just keep on driving it till becomes a cube, cuz dinosaurs are just cool like that.