April 28, 2004
Birthday gift stops Mr. Wreck-It
By
Herald Editor
Drum brakes and birthday gift are four words rarely seen in the same sentence. Not if you also want to insert the word happy.
However, car guys are a little out-of-round with the rest of the world. Any automotive present makes us nitrous oxide giddy. Another Father's Day, another socket set. Give us a 300 page shop manual for Christmas and we'll tear up like a newly crowned Miss America.
However, my brake birthday gift came with one caveat and two dreaded words: professional installation. It seems the present includes both parts and labor; the later specifically not mine. In other words, Mr. Wreck-it-Himself is handing over the Allen keys to Mr. Goodwrench. Somewhere a tool salesman gently weeps.
As a self-proclaimed car crafter, this modest proposal is akin to Swift's all-you-can eat children menu - a bit hard to swallow. After all, it goes against every molecule of my XY-don't-ask-for-directions-at-the-gas-station being. In no uncertain terms, I'm being told to exit the male pride driver's seat and step away from the vehicle.
Shocking as it sounds, I'm OK with someone else bleeding both the brakes and checkbook. You don't look a gift horse in the mouth - even one with an hourly shop rate.
So this week, with my "More Duct Tape" hat in hand, the Ranchero will be brought in for professional service. I'm willing to commit this car-guy faux pas for two reasons - both being bench seat passengers.
When it comes to driving a vintage vehicle, there is safe and car-guy safe. As one of my favorite auto magazine editors succinctly said "car-guy safe means 'death trap' in the hands of a regular civilian driver." Some of my rolling Rube Goldbergs included a Buick Regal that required a nine-step starting sequence and a Chevette transmission that self-shifted - not advisable in a four-speed manual. Car-guy safe is counting the intervals between roadside telephone poles to gauge your speed because the speedometer stopped working in 1989.
In order to accommodate the precious cargo riding in the Ranchero, I'm upgrading the brakes from wishful thinking to faithful wheel stoppers. In atypical car-guy fashion, this will occur before my two-year-old gets her learner's permit. My confidence comes from the fact that Busted Knuckle garage will not perform this service work.
After all, I don't want our first family road trip to the Cherry Bowl to be the pits. I'll put a stop to my car-guy blissful ignorance if only to insert happy next to brakes.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com