I swear, mechanics are going to be the death of me! I have to ask you, is there something about me that says, "I have money and I'm dying to spend it on you" ?? Perhaps it just says "Hi, I was born yesterday and I'm going to fall for anything you say!"
Neither one is true, so whatever it is about me that tells that to mechanics, I wish it would shut up. Let me explain.
Now, I usually work on my own car. Not because I'm brilliant or particularly skilled, but because I am poor. REALLY POOR. Have you tried feeding four teenage boys in today's economy on one teacher's salary? Do you know they insist on eating multiple times every single day? Well, they do. Thus, poverty stalks my footsteps.
So, the last time the brake pads needed changing on the minivan, I assembled my various sons and announced that I was going to teach them to change them. After all, why did I have so many sons if not to have my car worked on?
I handed a breaker bar to Dusty, who proceeded to blithely snap off, not one, but TWO studs off the front passenger wheel. You know, I can remember when that kid was cute. When the sight of his unbelievably long eyelashes gently resting on his tiny sleeping cheek made my heart skip a beat. Now he's a huge, hulking, horrifically strong bull in the proverbial china shop, and I'm not exactly sure when that happened.
I sighed over the broken studs, handed the kid a big socket wrench and a hammer and told him to take off the hub and knock the broken stumps out while I went to Napa for new ones. Of course, since Murphy's Law seemed to be in control of this day from the start, they didn't have any. Neither did Checker or two Autozones. I was mystified. Its a 1998 Plymouth Grand Voyager. It's not like it's an exotic part.
I finally bought four studs closest in shape to the ones my child had destroyed, and headed home. Yes, you with your hand up. You have a question? Why four? Because this was shaping up to be one of those days in which you start to wonder if the fates really are hovering over your life string with a pair of shears, and on those days, it's really just best to be prepared, don't you agree?
I pulled out the bench grinder from the garage and proceeded to shape the heads on a couple of those studs to the best approximation I could to the original parts. I know, all you mechanics out there are cringing and shaking your heads. Hush. I was desperate.
And it worked. I got the studs to seat themselves into their respective hollows, and we went on to change the brake pads. I was ridiculously pleased with myself. How could I know that the damage those studs would do to the hub over the next year would eventually cost me $501.48 last week to replace it? Oh, stop laughing at me. It's not nice.
Besides, this story is supposed to be making me sound smarter than that. The point to telling you this is to illustrate why, last month, when the brake pads needed changing again, I decided to let a certified mechanic do it. I had noticed when I changed the pads that fateful day, that the rotors could probably have used a change as well, but I was too cheap to do it at the time. So, just before Thanksgiving this last year, I decided to walk into a shop on Hwy 528 and ask them to change both pads and rotors. They quoted me a price just under 300 dollars. I mentally consulted the bank balance and agreed.
In a few minutes one of the mechanics waved me over. He had that mournful look mechanics adopt when they intend to charge you alot more than the original quote, but they want you to think they will deeply regret it. He handed me a new estimate for over 540 bucks. My shoulders slumped. The bank balance was NOT going to absorb that kind of bill.
"Why is it going to be so much?" I wanted to know.
"Oh, you see, we must change the calipers, too. They are ruined." This guy is good. He looks like he could burst into tears from sheer earnestness.
"Ruined?" I quiz, "What's wrong with them?"
"Oh, you have waited too long to change the brakes, and now, you see, they have overheated."
I'm skeptical. "What happens when you overheat calipers?"
If possible, he looks even more solemn. "When you overheat the calipers, the seals harden, and now they are going to leak."
My ears prick up at the phrase "going to." "Do you mean they aren't leaking right now?"
His face falls a little. "Well, no," he admits, "They aren't leaking right this minute. But they will very soon."
I press him. "How soon? This week? This month?"
"Well, maybe not this month. But very soon!" The poor guy is trying to get the earnest look back on his face.
I grab a piece of paper and a pencil and sketch a fair approximation of a brake caliper, complete with the soon-to-be-failing seal. I tap the paper. "Is this the seal you are talking about?" I query.
The mechanic peers at the paper and swallows hard. "Yes, ma'am, that's the one." Notice, suddenly, I'm "ma'am"??
I ignore his discomfort and pretend to be worried. "So, do you think this seal will fail all at once? Are my children in danger of dying in a fiery crash?" I gasp in what I consider a fair approximation of anxiety.
He's squirming now. It's really kinda cute. "No, ma'am, it will probably leak gradually."
"Oh, good!" I exclaim. "Then I can probably just check the brake fluid often, like say, once a week? If the fluid level goes down, then I can just bring it right in and you can change the calipers!" I give him a bright smile.
He gets an idea. You can practically see the light bulb light up over his left ear. "But, miss, the calipers only come as a set with the brake pads. If you wait to change the calipers, you will just be having to change the brake pads again. I don't want to waste your money."
Sure he doesn't. I widen my eyes in sheer innocence and lean toward him. He swallows hard once more. I wonder if he will be able to survive this, since this poor soul obviously has had little experience in being invited to drown in pools of green. But, I've got the advantage now--I can almost hear my bank balance sighing in relief--so I press on.
"You mean," I gasp in a fair semblence of shock, "your parts supplier won't take parts back on warranty? Why do you use them?"
I have to give Caliper Guy, as I'm now affectionately thinking of him, credit. He knows when he's beaten. "Just the brakes and rotors, then," he mumbles as he goes back to my car.
Now, you'd think the story would be over right there....I am woman, hear me roar, right? HA! You don't really think my life is ever that simple, do you?
A couple weeks later, just before school ended for Christmas holiday, it began to snow. I let 15-year-old Jesse drive home. After all, the snow wasn't sticking to the roads yet, and the experience would be good for him. He turned the car onto Corrales Road and gasped.
"Mom, something's wrong with the steering wheel! I can't turn it!"
I grab the
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bardnsage
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Jun 18 @ 7:37PM
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GRAP,,, you ran out of space,,, and it was going so good....
finish, finish,,,
(By the way,,, if the caliper seal leaks,,, it will contaiminate the brake pad,,, and you will need to replace it. It gets all slickery from the brake fluid. Like putting grease on your brakes.)
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chevymn
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Jun 18 @ 8:24PM
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There are always going to be those ripoff artist out there that make them all look bad. I can't tell you how many times my brother has helped single parents and elderly people out by charging the parts in his name and only charging a third of the labor hours. He was doing work after hours and on weekends but the dealership quit letting him use the shop and lift. I've had the local tire shop try to scan me for more unneeded fixes.
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Always_Striving
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Jun 19 @ 3:22AM
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Hey I think I remember that mechanic, he is the same guy (as a kid) that tried to sell my little brother an ordinary rock from his front yard.
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