Guy Wheatley
The Texarkana Gazette

By Guy Wheatley
Texarkana Gazette
People often ask me, "Are you a good mechanic? Do you work on your own vehicles?"
The answers are no, and yes.
I'm the type who always thinks he can do it. I watch pros and they make it look so easy that I fall prey to a false confidence. "That looked pretty easy," I think. "I could have done that."  The next time something goes wrong, I think of the labor costs I can save by fixing it on my own.
In truth, there's more than money involved. After all, I'm a man darn it and I'm supposed to be able to fix things. I can just see the look of awed respect in my wife's beautiful green eyes as I stand next the repaired vehicle casually wiping grease from my hands. Her breath quickens as I exude an air of manly competence. "Hand me a wrench, I have great works to perform!"
We've got a Jeep Cherokee that has a couple of problems.
I recently replaced a perfectly good water pump trying to stop it from running hot. Since the actual problem, as discovered by the mechanic I finally went to, was a cracked freeze plug, It didn't help.
Some people, having wasted time and money, would have learned a lesson. I however, am made of sterner stuff! Me! Learn a lesson? Ha!
The other problem I have occasionally involves the starter. Sometimes I hit the key, and nothing happens. The gauges will peg, and the lights will go dim, but nothing else happens. Usually if I just wait a little while, or if I jiggle the shift, it will eventually start.
The Starter motor doesn't drag. If it turns over at all, it turns over just fine leading me to first think that the problem is a faulty safety interlock on the shift. The "wiggle" solution isn't consistent enough to definitively point to this as the problem though, and I am eventually seduced by another hypothesis.
Immediately after having the coolant problem fixed, the starter problem got worse. It now refuses to start. No amount of waiting or jiggling serves the purpose.
I go out to resume the battle one morning, only to discover that the battery is quite dead. This is a new battery, and I am sure that it shouldn't have simply died on its own. I recharged it planning to resume the struggle the next morning only to find the battery quite dead again the next morning.
I removed it from the vehicle and charge it up. It holds a charge quite well while disconnected so obviously there is a short somewhere in the Jeep.
I remember the old days when the starter solenoid was attached to the firewall. Sometimes they would stick. Occasionally they would just unstick by themselves. Other times, you could tap them gently with hammer and that would unstick them. The thing is; when they were stuck, they would invariably drain your battery.
"Ah ha Watson!" I cry in an affected British accent that would make your eyes water. (I've been re-reading Sherlock Holmes) "The evidence is clear and points unfalteringly to the solenoid."
Holmes would have wept.
This vehicle, like most I have seen manufactured in the last three decades, has the solenoid attached directly to the starter. I have to remove the starter to replace the solenoid. I accomplished in about three hours under the Jeep, removing and replacing bell housing bolts from the transmission that I have mistaken for mounting bolts on the starter. There is much verbose speculation on theology, and the genealogy of various parts that refuse to cooperate. Eventually however, I stand triumphantly holding the starter in my bruised, battered, and bleeding hands.
Quick as a flash, I dash to the parts store for a new solenoid.
"Look mac," says the guy behind the counter. "Ya sure ya don't want to replace the starter while ya got it out?"
Obviously this buffoon has no idea to whom he is speaking. A solenoid costs about $28.00 while a starter (solenoid included) is going to run about $79.00. It's true that if I'm wrong about the solenoid, I'm simply throwing away $28.00, but I'm confident. My logic is impeccable, my conclusion flawless. I assure the imbecile I have no need of a starter, secure the solenoid and return to the battle.
As neighboring mothers usher away children, hands over their ears, I climb back under the Jeep. Holding the starter as I lay on my back in one hand, I try to get at least one of the bolts in to hold the weight of the starter. Arms trembling, I try desperately to get the bolt to bite the threads.
Let's see, that's uh lefty-loosey, righty-tighty right? No, wait! I'm looking at it from the back so shouldn't it go the other way? Come on you &&^%**, take a bite. &^%&*# this has got to be the right *&(^() way!!
&^^))& ^((*) %$#@$# %^^$^!!!!!
OK! I finally get it in.
I reconnect the wiring then spring to the drivers seat. I turn the key and -- -- lights dim, gages peg.
More verbose speculation on genealogy and theology.
I briefly consider just moving in and living under the Jeep, but eventually decide that I'm going to have to face Sharon sometime. I watch those beautiful green eyes as I stammer out an excuse, uh I mean explanation. Cold and hard as emeralds they look. There's something in there all right, but it doesn't look like awed respect.
It takes me three days to get the initiative to gather up and put away my tools. I should have some money coming back from income tax by late February or early March. If the Mitsubishi will just keep running till then, I'll have the Jeep towed to the shop and let someone who knows what the heck he's doing have a shot at it.
I bet he makes it look easy.

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