Busier Than A One Legged Man At An Ass Kicking Contest

Yeah, it’s summer time all right.

Spent all day Saturday working on the El Camino.

It had a brake light out that only worked when the other turn signal was on, been that way since I got it last October.

I knew when I found a brand new turn signal switch in the box, behind the seat what was in store so I just kept putting it off.

The thing has a tilt wheel and those things are a holy mother fucker to take apart and put back together, special tools and all. I have the tools, just not the patience.

So I cheated.

Instead of taking all that spring loaded shit apart, I cut the wires off the old one after I got the fucking steering wheel off and took all the individual wires out of the connector from the new one.

I then taped a couple of wires at a time, end to end, to the old ones and very carefully threaded them back through the steering column to the bottom.Then I re installed the wires into the connector and plugged it in.

Of course, the crack head asshole who had this thing before me had been in there too.

Whoever that fuckhead is, he needs to have his fingers sewn together permanently so he can never get tools in his  fucking hands ever again.

Every thing on this car has been fucked with at one time or another.

There is a wheel with holes in it right behind the steering wheel for the steering wheel lock mechanism that has a little wire clip and one hell of a stiff spring you have to compress to get the clip back on.

You guessed it, it was all just flopping around in there.

I have the special tool that you thread on the end of the steering shaft to press that back together to get the clip on and put that back together.

Did I mention that one of the first things I had to do when I got this thing was to replace the entire fucking instrument panel assembly?

Yep, Mr. Crackhead had been in there too and fucked that all up. not one single instrument worked or any dash lights.

Well, when I went to put that back together months ago, the trim bezel kept trapping the speedometer needle.

I have been driving around with wires hanging all over the place and no finish trim on the face.

I put all that shit back together and tidied up all the wiring and shit.

Took it to work and bigger than shit the speedo needle is stuck again but hey, I have fucking brake lights.

Next up is the Sprite.

My 1964 piece of British shit convertible sports car I have had for over twenty years.

I had it painted three years ago and then it sat outside in all kinds of shitty weather with no tarp half the time and no top.

Yeah, it’s fucked. The moss that grew on it ate clear through the fucking paint until it looks like someone blasted it with rock salt in a shot gun shell.

It only wanted to run on three cylinders even with a new spark plug.

I tore the fucking cylinder head off and sent it out for a valve grind.

I rebuilt the engine twenty years ago and it has less than three thousand miles on it because there is always, and I mean always, something broke down on the miserable cocksucker.

The guy quotes me $150 to grind the valves again. OK.

I gave him new valve springs, keepers and guide seals just so he wouldn’t be able to call me and ding me. Stupid me, machine shops ALWAYS find a way to ding ya.

after a couple of more phone calls and two more trips down there, it came to $275.

Par for the fucking course. New exhaust valve guides and resurface the gasket surface.

After I got it home it is all about cleaning the rest of the engine up, ordering ten new headbolt nuts at three fucking dollars apiece and  now I have to get a new bypass hose for the cooling and torque the fucker back down and set the valve lash.

I have been taking engine parts to work and sandblasting and polishing various goodies a little here and there.

I have a ton of work to do to this miserable fucker too, the first thing on the list is a new aluminum radiator and then get at least the drivers seat  recovered. There is zero interior in the thing and I scored  some much needed parts off a POS my buddy bought a couple years ago that we are going to pick up and throw in the back of a truck and drag over here so I can cannibalize it down to the last nut, bolt and screw.

So yeah, I have been a bit busy as of late.

There is yet more fun in my future too. We have another tear down and inspection next weekend at work that entails twelve hour back to back graveyard shifts.

I can’t fucking wait.

Double extra bonus goodness, I get to go in early for a two hour mandatory forced re education, behavior modification  and general ball breaking seminar they cheerfully misnamed “Positive Workplace Experience”, which is , in reality, a Sexual Harassment diatribe geared to scare the nut sack off any self respecting  pervert,  male co worker.

Meh, this ain’t my first rodeo, I have had to sit through two eight hour sessions of this fucking horse shit before and this one is only two hours long.  Fucking rookies.

I think there is a whopping total of two women who work there in the office and they stay in the office. We very rarely even see them, let alone interact with them but this is a corporate commanded indoctrination progrom so I will just sit there and keep my yap shut. They get to pay me overtime for my trouble at least.

So, that is a brief run down of what has been keeping my narrow ass busy, I am sure you all have your own personal demons nipping at your heels and sticking you in the ass with a pitch fork.

Thanks fer stopping by, I’ll try and get back to the keyboard sometime this weekend on my only day off.


3 thoughts on “Busier Than A One Legged Man At An Ass Kicking Contest

  1. Always hated those workplace socialization thingies. Waste all that time and equipment to learn nothing I didn’t know before and they were cobbed up by some pissant who got paid 10x what I got for making something a third grader could do better. But it’s like taking a shit during your shift, you have to do it so it’s good to get paid for it.

  2. The mouth-breathers who need the “socialization thingies” are usually too dim to learn or too warped to care. It’s just a limp attempt by the corps to covertheirass. Life in the new century.

  3. The more I see you play with your engines, the more I love my old diesels of proven design.

    One of my former work mates takes the politically incorrect first place title. He said to the secretary, “So, are you pregnant or just fat?” (fat as it turned out) The boss was constantly in fear of what this guy might say. Couldn’t say three words without saying “fuck” twice. Guy made it all the way to retirement without a lawsuit.

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