Where Foul Language Began II

The instructions seem simple enough.

Step one: Disconnect the battery. 

Use an 18mm combination wrench to loosen the negative battery terminal so nothing zorches while you try to solve your mechanical puzzle in the rain. Got it. Now, where is the 18mm wrench? Not in the toolbox. Not on the workbench, either. In the van? No. Truck? Nuh-uh. Vice grips will have to do. At this point my precious hubby, driven by guilt in watching his wife tackle the pickup in the rain without appropriate tools, steps in to help. He successfully loosens the bolt on the battery and finds that a lovely light show ensues when you accidentally turn the nut too far, thus connecting with the positive battery terminal with the negative. It's pretty on many levels - pretty uncomfortable, pretty irritating, pretty embarrassing...


Step two: Remove the air intake and filter.

This is easy. A thumb screw, two electrical connectors, and air filter to remove. No tools needed here. I feet like a professional.


Step four: Remove distributor cap.

No, I didn't skip a step. Well, yes, I did... Stay with me. I loosen the two screws holding the distributer cap and remove them. Now, doesn't that sound easy? Just a couple of screws. Cute little things. But they are both stripped, which I advise my husband. He wisely corrects me, "They aren't Phillips, dear, they're stars." But there isn't just one size star. Nooooo, there's apparently fifty million stars. Why are there so many stars? This isn't a science question. Wait - I guess it is. But not a solar system question. I digress. My awesome man finds me the correct star and I commence using a screw driver tool thing (yes, that's a technical term I'm sure) in which the star thing fits. One screw out! Yay! Now for screw #2. It's 'conveniently' located just slightly under the edge of the cowl (yes that's a word - trust me) and much too cozy for the full length of the screw driver. So we dig through the tool box and find a really cool tool that is short and able to handle the star thingy. Now, using the brail system, I finally bruise my knuckles. I mean, I finally loosen the screw successfully and remove it without dropping into the endless abyss which is the engine compartment! Hooray! I really feel mechanical now. I'm getting cocky. On to the next step... but wait. There are all these spark plug wires connected to the distributor cap and they are impossible to remove one handed, which is necessary when you are leaning out precariously over a monstrous engine compartment balanced on one hand. Hmm. I tug. I tug again. Each time, the distributor cap, fully dislodged from its home, follows in the direction of the tug. I try to use both hands to pull on opposite sides of the distributor cap and nearly do a faceplant on something that looks sort of like a carburetor. Did I just date myself? Whatever. I locate where I put the cute little screws and commence putting them back in. Need I remind you of the title of this particular article? 


Step three: Disconnect the spark plug wires.

With the distributor cap re-installed, I pulled off the spark plug wires one at a time and labeled them according to where they connect. Did any mechanics out there fear I would neglect this part? Thankfully, no. I am well aware of what a headache it is if you fail to do this step. Don't ask me how I know. That would be the content of Where Foul Language Began III. So, every wire labeled, I progress once again to step four. 


Step four reprise: Replace the cap.

I take up my star screw driver again and pull the screws out. Now the easy part. Out with the old, on with the new. I never lost a screw in the great machine. For that I am thankful! 


Step five: Reassemble everything.

Maybe that's too much to put into a step, but this is getting to be a really long write, so...


Step six: Start the engine. Hopefully.

Tension builds my husband and I make eye contact a split second prior to turning the key, but to my joy, it starts right up.

Step seven: Happy dance.


Thank you for reading today. Have fun looking up what a cowl is.

Cheers,

Shai

PS - Confession: the foulest language I use is 'nuts'. I'm actually more 'G' rated than Winnie the Pooh. But the title got you, didn't it?

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