It's my first real job right out of high school. I had been hired to work for the county on the weed abatement team. Kate was also newly graduated. She was slightly built and very shy. As a football player and track star, I was sure I was going to impress her.
"Um....Okay. Where do you want us to take it?" There were several gas stations in the area that performed these services. It seemed sort of weird that I needed Kate along.
"No. I mean I need YOU to change the oil and filters on the vehicle. We're trying to cut expenses. Drive it over to the county shed. You'll find all the materials you need there. I'm sure you can find something easy for Kate to do while you're doing the mechanical stuff. Have her clean out the inside of the rig. Just something to keep her busy" says my boss.
Uh, oh. Me change the oil and filters? This was not going to be good. How was I going to explain to my boss that I didn't have the foggiest notion how to do this.
"About changing the oil..." I begin.
"And grease the wheels. These older vehicles need a new application of grease on the bearings once in a while" he says.
"When you say 'wheels' what...."
"You'll probably have time to change that balding rear right tire and put on new wiper blades, too."
"But..."
"I've got to go spray a patch of Skeleton Weed near Dufur, so you'll be on your own" he says as he strides out the door.
"But...." too late.
Great. For some reason, people look at me and assume that I have some mechanical skills. The truth is -- I have no idea what the various tools in a tool box are used for. They are all different sized hammers to me.
I go find Kate.
"Well" I say, trying to sound nonchalant in front of Kate "let's go get this thing done."
The shed had one of those oil pits that you can drive the vehicle over and easily access the underside of the vehicle. The only thing I did right was to center the vehicle over the pit. After that, it was all downhill.
After giving cleaning instructions to Kate, I climbed down the stairs in the pit and tried to identify what I was supposed to do. I had no idea what I was looking for. And it was really dark. After boinking my head and catching my shin on something in the pit, I let out a stifled moan.
"Uh, Dave" says Kate from up above. "Do you want the work light?"
"Yeah, I was just about to get that..." I say nonchalantly as I wipe away the blood as it trickled off my forehead.
The work light did wonders to illuminate the underside of the vehicle, but did little in assisting me in how to drain the oil or change the filters. After a very long time I hear footsteps coming down the ladder.
"Are you Okay?" asks Kate.
"Yeah, uh, sure. Just, you know, working on the car...these older models are kind of tricky." I say.
"Maybe I can help." says Kate.
"I don't know about that" I say trying to act knowledgeable and superior. "It's pretty technical. You probably should just keep cleaning."
"What are you doing first?" Kate insisted "The oil and filter change or greasing the wheels?"
"Oil and filter. I just can't find the oil drain on this older vehicle." I say as I'm looking at the rear axle.
Kate gives me a funny look at points straight up from where she is at.
"It's right here on the engine." she says.
"Wow" I say. "So that's where they hid it."
"Have you ever changed the oil and filters before?" Kate asks.
"What? Of course I've changed the oil...." I begin.
"What do you use to remove the oil filter?" she asks with her hands on her hips.
"Well, everyone knows that." I say. "That's too easy."
"Do you even know which one is the oil filter?" she asks.
"Do YOU know which one is the oil filter?" I ask trying to divert the attack away from me.
"Yep. I help my dad change the oil on his tractors that he uses in the cherry orchard."
Oh.
So, while Kate changed the oil and filters and greased the wheels, she assigned me to clean out the rig. Just something to keep me busy. I was, however, very useful in changing the tire because I was assigned to hold the lug nuts and make sure they didn't get lost. Only one got lost. You would have thought I had killed someone the way Kate reacted. Heck, there was still four more left.
Years later, my wife gets to be the recipient of my mechanical talents.
Once, when we were returning from a long trip, we got a flat tire on the van. Fortunately, we had one of those little doughnut-sized spare tires to get us home. But as luck would have it, the tire must have been made for another model of car. When we tried to drive on it, it seized up and wouldn't turn. It was the wrong size or something.
Walking to the next town, I called my dad to have him drive the two hours to come get us. When he arrived, he had brought his tool box that he used to repair his logging equipment when the equipment broke down.
Looking at the spare tire, he just shook his head and sighed, took the tire off, spun it around and put it on the correct way.
It worked perfectly.
No comments:
Post a Comment