The title of this post is one of those sappy signs you see displayed at churches, yet I find it hard to disagree with its sentiment. I'll tell you why...
We went through a dark valley of under-employment and near-poverty conditions in the not-so-distant past. In the midst of this, I found that what I wanted to learn--what I diligently prayed I would learn--was gratitude and contentment. I did.
Gratitude and contentment aren't lessons you learn once, like riding a bicycle. They are lessons you continue to learn. Really, it is a practice you build into your life, sort of like the habit of flossing your teeth (one I've failed to implement thus far).
We all have a lot to be thankful for. For one, God hasn't destroyed us as we've deserved. Let's start there. I'm guessing that you're reading this from the comfort of your home, sitting in front of a nice PC, wanting for nothing. The fact that you can afford broadband access at your home instead of $10/month dial-up is thanks-worthy. We all have mp3 players that we paid at least a couple of hundred for, which helps us avoid the inconvenience of those bulky portable CD players.
Don't misunderstand me. I don't speak from any moral high ground. Just because I was forced to see life differently by difficult circumstances doesn't give me any special knowledge. Just a different perspective.
I prefer not having Thanksgiving with our family every year. Our family gatherings aren't necessarily focused, directly or obliquely, on gratitude. I prefer to spend it with folks that we know have real gratitude built into their lives. It's nice, if you should so choose to express your thanks to your Lord for his generosity, that you not do so receiving weird looks of misunderstanding. It's nice to do so amongst people who know what you're talking about and pretty much agree with you from the start.
It's OK, maybe every other year, to do Thanksgiving with the folks. But a break from that now and again helps me remember to focus on the holiday's root, not what I've chosen to make it.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Woes and Pitfalls of Car Repair
I've been blessed/cursed with mechanical ability. Those without such ability would identify with the blessing side; those with such ability the curse side.
It's a curse to know how to fix things. This compels you to fix your own things. The alternative is shelling out hundreds of dollars in labor for someone else to do it. It also comes in handy when you're poor (hand raised). In most cases, I can figure out what needs to be done to fix something. In a very few cases, I appeal directly to the professionals. Usually, I embark with little or no experience on a specific repair and glean this knowledge along the way. Best case scenario: the parts are easy to find and not so expensive and the repair goes along swimmingly. Worst case scenario: none of these things happen. I cannot feasibly complete the repair without investing in certain tools I don't have. Sometimes, the process of trial and error is too time consuming and I end up having to deliver the unfixed vehicle to another repairman, hat in hand. These guys love to see us shade tree fellows coming in, awash in defeat. They love to see us lugging in boxes of miscellaneous parts, nuts and bolts, our clothes and hands greasy, our knuckles skinned to the bone.
Each vehicle in our family fleet is high mileage (either nearing or having surpassed 200K). Two-hundred thousand miles in a car is like turning 80 as a human. There will always be something in need of fixing, something not working properly, or something that is simply worn out. But 200K to me is a trophy. It says, 'I have gotten as much out of this car as can be reasonably expected, and I still squeeze mileage out of it through tender loving care, blood-sweat-tears, and softly spoken threats of salvage yards.' I try to forget the greasy hands and knuckles skinned to the bone.
Right now, I'm in a normal period. I have two vehicles that are running normally without much intervention at present. One is at around 220K and the other is around 240K. There are small things each could use to bring them up to snuff, but nothing that pressing. A third car, my daughter's, is demanding more and more attention. Also note that there is a direct relationship between "attention" and "money spent". Her car, if the engine wasn't in such good condition and didn't run so well, would be in the junkyard even as we speak. However, the engine still runs marvelously, so we continue to dump money into its gaping maw.
The other night, she came home for a visit, having asked me to look at a few things and to service the car while she was in town. The primary problem was that the driver's side door wouldn't open. The secondary problem was that the climate control blower would function only on high. There were other problems, too, but for now, let us focus on number one: the door.
What some of you may/may not know is that in order to work on the door mechanism, i.e., locks, levers, window, or anything else inside the confines of the door, you have to open the door and remove the inside door panel. Since the door couldn't be opened, then I was unable to complete #1 and had to find an alternative entry method. I called a trusted mechanic I know and the light he was able to shed couldn't have illuminated a watch dial. I was on my own.
I spent an entire evening (see Hil's entry), working outside in a cold, bitter north wind, and was able to pry the door panel open a little and get at the locking mechanism, but nothing I tried would encourage it to open. The next night, I was better armed. I got my angle grinder, cut away a part of the door frame that obscured the lock, and was able to force it open with a screwdriver. I then removed the mechanism I needed to replace. In the process of removing it and opening the door, I destroyed the little control panel on the door that operates the windows and door locks. Lucky me, right? Also, a little slippage on the angle grinder cut some wires that go to something on the left rear door. Again, the curse of knowing how to fix things...
Parts at the dealer will be in excess of $300, causing me to rethink my repair options. Salvage yards are always fun places to hang out, so I'll be trying one of those first, before the shelling out of multiple Franklins for new parts. In the meanwhile, I'm letting her drive my truck back to school while I work on her car. I drive her car to work and back in the interim. Since the door lock is in absentia, the door is being held closed by a series of bungee cords (see photo). This proves to be adventurous. The wind rushes by as if I am in an open cockpit. As I'm driving down the highway at 70MPH, I look through a crack and see the road rushing by. The door rattles like it's not fastened properly...wait...it's not, is it? Also, when I make a sharp right turn, the door stretches against the bungee cord network and comes open a bit. It's all very exciting.
And as if this weren't enough to tax my auto repair sensibilities, the brakes are needing some attention and the driver's side strut is making some kind of hellacious racket. The good thing is that it only makes the noise when you are driving the car.
I try and remind myself that not knowing how to fix things would be a greater curse. I would still have broken-down vehicles. I would still have to get them fixed, yet I would be paying someone else to do it and would be a great deal poorer or a lot more in debt than I am now. I keep trying to remind myself of this, especially while I'm in the midst of a project where the curse seems brighter than the blessing.
It's a curse to know how to fix things. This compels you to fix your own things. The alternative is shelling out hundreds of dollars in labor for someone else to do it. It also comes in handy when you're poor (hand raised). In most cases, I can figure out what needs to be done to fix something. In a very few cases, I appeal directly to the professionals. Usually, I embark with little or no experience on a specific repair and glean this knowledge along the way. Best case scenario: the parts are easy to find and not so expensive and the repair goes along swimmingly. Worst case scenario: none of these things happen. I cannot feasibly complete the repair without investing in certain tools I don't have. Sometimes, the process of trial and error is too time consuming and I end up having to deliver the unfixed vehicle to another repairman, hat in hand. These guys love to see us shade tree fellows coming in, awash in defeat. They love to see us lugging in boxes of miscellaneous parts, nuts and bolts, our clothes and hands greasy, our knuckles skinned to the bone.
Each vehicle in our family fleet is high mileage (either nearing or having surpassed 200K). Two-hundred thousand miles in a car is like turning 80 as a human. There will always be something in need of fixing, something not working properly, or something that is simply worn out. But 200K to me is a trophy. It says, 'I have gotten as much out of this car as can be reasonably expected, and I still squeeze mileage out of it through tender loving care, blood-sweat-tears, and softly spoken threats of salvage yards.' I try to forget the greasy hands and knuckles skinned to the bone.
Right now, I'm in a normal period. I have two vehicles that are running normally without much intervention at present. One is at around 220K and the other is around 240K. There are small things each could use to bring them up to snuff, but nothing that pressing. A third car, my daughter's, is demanding more and more attention. Also note that there is a direct relationship between "attention" and "money spent". Her car, if the engine wasn't in such good condition and didn't run so well, would be in the junkyard even as we speak. However, the engine still runs marvelously, so we continue to dump money into its gaping maw.
The other night, she came home for a visit, having asked me to look at a few things and to service the car while she was in town. The primary problem was that the driver's side door wouldn't open. The secondary problem was that the climate control blower would function only on high. There were other problems, too, but for now, let us focus on number one: the door.
What some of you may/may not know is that in order to work on the door mechanism, i.e., locks, levers, window, or anything else inside the confines of the door, you have to open the door and remove the inside door panel. Since the door couldn't be opened, then I was unable to complete #1 and had to find an alternative entry method. I called a trusted mechanic I know and the light he was able to shed couldn't have illuminated a watch dial. I was on my own.
I spent an entire evening (see Hil's entry), working outside in a cold, bitter north wind, and was able to pry the door panel open a little and get at the locking mechanism, but nothing I tried would encourage it to open. The next night, I was better armed. I got my angle grinder, cut away a part of the door frame that obscured the lock, and was able to force it open with a screwdriver. I then removed the mechanism I needed to replace. In the process of removing it and opening the door, I destroyed the little control panel on the door that operates the windows and door locks. Lucky me, right? Also, a little slippage on the angle grinder cut some wires that go to something on the left rear door. Again, the curse of knowing how to fix things...
Parts at the dealer will be in excess of $300, causing me to rethink my repair options. Salvage yards are always fun places to hang out, so I'll be trying one of those first, before the shelling out of multiple Franklins for new parts. In the meanwhile, I'm letting her drive my truck back to school while I work on her car. I drive her car to work and back in the interim. Since the door lock is in absentia, the door is being held closed by a series of bungee cords (see photo). This proves to be adventurous. The wind rushes by as if I am in an open cockpit. As I'm driving down the highway at 70MPH, I look through a crack and see the road rushing by. The door rattles like it's not fastened properly...wait...it's not, is it? Also, when I make a sharp right turn, the door stretches against the bungee cord network and comes open a bit. It's all very exciting. And as if this weren't enough to tax my auto repair sensibilities, the brakes are needing some attention and the driver's side strut is making some kind of hellacious racket. The good thing is that it only makes the noise when you are driving the car.
I try and remind myself that not knowing how to fix things would be a greater curse. I would still have broken-down vehicles. I would still have to get them fixed, yet I would be paying someone else to do it and would be a great deal poorer or a lot more in debt than I am now. I keep trying to remind myself of this, especially while I'm in the midst of a project where the curse seems brighter than the blessing.
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