Pa Rock, Mechanic

 

by Pa Rock

Mechanic

My father had three measures of success in life for his male offspring, which was me.

First was the accumulation of wealth.  Nothing said success in life like owning a nice home, two (or more) high quality vehicles, and a fat bank account.  He believed that the key to acquiring wealth was to work for yourself and not someone else, and he grew exceptionally bitter when discussing unions which he considered "the ruination of America."   I managed to stay ahead of the bill collectors and always keep food on the table, but I also spent my life working for wages - and the great piles of wealth eluded me.

Dad's second measure of success in life for males was developing the ability to build things and perform basic household maintenance. He owned many rental homes over the course of his life, and was able to do quite well in the rental business because he did most of his own maintenance.

I did take a general shop class in high school due to an extremely limited curriculum, but the teacher had some sort of agreement with a traveling salesman out of Louisiana who sold him large quantities of Cyprus knees (a swamp thing) which he resold to the students - and most wound up making Cyprus knee lamps for their mothers as the class project.  (My mother loved hers and used them for the rest of her life.)

And the third measure of success promoted by my father was that his male heir (me) should be able to repair his own vehicles.   Dad ran a gas station and did basic car repairs while I was growing up, and he was constantly explaining and showing me car basics - things that he knew would be around forever like carburetors and spark plugs.  By the time he passed away in 2009, cars were computerized from the tail pipe to the hood ornament, and the only place a person might encounter a carburetor would be on the Antiques Roadshow.  If one of his own vehicles needed repairs, he had to take it to a trained mechanic who had machines to identify which of the car's many computers was malfunctioning.

Dad's auto repair tool kit did contain the three items he deemed essential:  WD-40, duct tape, and baling wife.

I didn't take auto mechanics in high school.  It wasn't offered.

My current primary vehicle is a 2020 Kia Soul.  Last weekend I drove to Kansas City where, among other business, I took the Kia into the dealership where I purchased it two years ago to have some recall warranty work done.  I had a notice for one upgrade, and discovered that I had neglected a couple of others, so the car received three upgrades while I was in town.

I drove home on Sunday and the car ran fine - as it always had.  But when I started the little car on Monday and headed into town, I was confronted with a horrible beeping sound that lasted for about ten seconds before going away.  And then it came back.  I paid careful attention and realized that the blasted beeping only occurred when I was going forward, and that it happened primarily when I accelerated.

The nuisance noise continued on Tuesday and Wednesday.  I unplugged the Alexa thinking that might help, but it didn't.  I turned things off and on, rolled windows up and down, and did everything I could think of that might somehow have a bearing on the car's overall operation, but the damned beeping continued.  Finally I came to the obvious conclusion that the mechanics in Kansas City must have messed something up.

But before I could call the Kia dealership in Kansas City and give them a large piece of my mind, my son was trying out a new recipe and asked if I could run to town and pick up a couple of ingredients that he was missing.  As I walked up behind the Kia Soul I happened to notice that the back door had not been closed properly and was about a quarter-inch ajar.  I opened the door - and closed it - and then thought, "I wonder . . . ?"

And yes, when I got behind the wheel and drove to town the annoying "beep, beep, beep" had gone away.  Pa Rock, ace mechanic, had fixed the problem without having to bring down a jihad on the Kansas City Kia dealership!

Dad would have been so proud!