Types of Car Guys

Types of Car Guys…
While posting in a Mustang forum the other day, I had a tangential thought that had nothing to do with the forum or what I was posting. It just randomly landed in my brain and had me looking back over my automotive life.

The early years were spent in autoshop. It was there that I intensely learned the types of car guys through the school of hard knocks. Not that I’m grumpy, I’m most certainly not. I love guys and find them fascinating. Hell, I’ve been told I’m “more of a man than most men.” And it has been wondered if I’m a lesbian because I’m not into traditional girl things. Well, if I’m a lesbian, why do I hate chicks so much? Why would I prefer to be around guys and cars? I guess I’m just wired different. Oh well. Such is life. In fact, it keeps my life interesting to say the least.

Although still off my original topic, that brings me to something else I gotta share. One guy say to me, “You must be a dude. You have a dick, don’t you?” Before I could say anything, my ex-boyfriend said, “She doesn’t have a dick. She’s got five. She keeps them in jars as trophies.” Same guy who said I am more of a man than most men. It has been about a decade since then. I wonder if I’ve girlified since then. I still have the jars–err…uh…never mind.

Anyway, back to my topic…

In no particular order, I started thinking about the various car guy types I’d met. From the old guys who’d seen and done it all and really didn’t give a shit anymore. To the young bucks dripping with so much machismo, they slipped in their own puddles.

But it wasn’t always about age. I think it was a confidence thing.

As evidenced by my little Car Guy Types here:

There were a few–maybe two or three–guys per autoshop class who were genuinely excited about having a girl in the class. They wanted to take me under their wing and teach me a thing or two (or three or four) about cars and for that I’m greatly indebted to those few men who for the most part were surprisingly not trying to date me, or if they were, didn’t show it. I did date a couple of these guys because I’m attracted to people I can learn from. And what better way to learn than from someone as passionate as I was about cars? Plus, there’s always the added bonus of working on cars together and cracking jokes about honing my master cylinder.

Next are another favorite of mine… The guys who genuinely didn’t care that I was a girl and treated me like one of the guys. There was the occasional, “You wrench like a girl.” type jokes, but I love ’em. I loved those guys because they also helped cultivate my deep appreciation for dick-and-fart jokes while teaching me a thing or two or three about cars.

Now we start getting into the other, less fun types…

And there are two subsets of this type. Both hated that there was a girl in the class. She didn’t belong there no matter how smart or how capable or how much she liked cars. She was a girl and should be playing with dolls or something. (Little did they know, at home, I was collecting antique dolls and now I restore them as well as I restore cars.) Anyway, one type I put up with because of the nature of their affliction. The other I simply avoided like the plague because I didn’t need the bullshit.

On my first day in bodyshop class, during break, a guy sat down next to me. I’d been hiding all the way in the back of class. I never know if I’m walking into an ambush, so I just hide until I know who feels what about having a girl in class. Anyway, this guy plunks down next to me and says, “So why are you here?” I reply, “Uh…To learn…” Duh. Why else does a person take a class? He says, “Yeah, sure. You’re just here to pick up guys.” I stifled a pretty hard laugh. I mean, doesn’t every girl pick up guys in autoshop rather than engineering or business, or even music or literature? Sure. And every woman knows mechanic’s hands are always so clean and silky smooth. Uh-huh. Yeah, like a rasp or a cheese grater when sculpting bondo. Niiiice. Like the business end of a cylinder hone. Mhmmm… Oh yeah, now there’s a great exfoliant.

But that set the tone for my in-class relationship with the guy. In essence, I avoided him. Just as I avoided the guys who said, “Isn’t there a kitchen you should be cleaning somewhere?” Bullshit. I suck at cleaning. Always have. Just ask my mom.

So, you have the guys that are just really irritated that there’s a woman in ‘their domain’. They try to sabotage every now and then, but I’ve also found that they are often pretty stupid. Which makes them more pissed off when I get around whatever they put in my way. More bullshit just triggers more avoidance. Who needs the anguish? Besides, success is the best revenge.

And finally, there’s the guys who like the other sub-set are upset that there’s a woman in the class. She doesn’t belong there, but she’s there and he’s gotta deal with it. And by golly, there’s no fuckin’ way she’s gonna score higher on the test or fix a car better. No fuckin’ way. No sirree. He’s gonna have to show her just how much smarter and how much better he is.

And that’s why I put up with those guys. They learn the most from the class and about life while trying to outdo the chick. I wasn’t there to impress anyone but myself, so I really didn’t care if a guy felt he had to do better than me. Quite honestly, I’ve always been book smart and the autoshop tests were pretty easy for me…which made ego guys work harder to learn more. I always had one of the top three or four scores on each written test. And seeing a guy go from a D to a B during a semester was always a joy.

Same for working on the cars. I wasn’t always that great. I had lots to learn about how things went together and stuff. That was when the ego guys could and often did show me up…and I learned a lot from them showing off. For that I’m thankful.

So there you have it. Toolwench’s take on the types of car guys. I still think it’s a confidence thing. Women are guilty of it, too. There were times when I did want to show that I had a clue what I was doing. I do get irritated when I rumble up in my Mustang and some asshole says, “Hey, is that your boyfriend’s/husband’s/dad’s/brother’s/uncle’s car.” I do sometimes feel that I have something to proove, but I choose those battles wisely. I know where I stand in my car knowledge and lack thereof. I always want to learn more. That will never change.

And, no, it’s not my boyfriend’s/husband’s/dad’s/brother’s/uncle’s car. It’s mine!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes, it’s the little things

The day my new coveralls arrived, I was thrilled beyond words. Being a whole lot smaller than man-sized, coveralls are a pain in the ass to find in my size. Even the ones I found online were too big, but they were close enough. Plus, my name is Toolwench, I have the tools to make a pair of coveralls smaller. I haven’t yet, but sheesh, they’re coveralls, not a slinky evening gown. They can be a little baggy.

Anyway, here’s a shot of my new coveralls…

I finally had a chance to use them when I needed to drop my tranny. This was the first time in about 13 years that I’d opened my Haynes manual because I didn’t know how to do something. I was suspicious of either a cracked flexplate or busted torque converter. Turns out, the flexplate was just loose. And it was my husband’s fault!!!!! If you scroll all the way down to when we did the engine swap, that’s him with the torque wrench.

Oh well…At least it wasn’t a busted crankshaft.

I didn’t take a whole lot of pics during this endeavor. It was one of those times when I didn’t really know what I was doing so I needed all my brainwaves focused on the task at hand. I’m little. The tranny’s big…and a big job for me to do. But I did it. Virtually without any help, either. The only things my husband did were because he was kinda bored and I wasn’t goin to turn down free help even if I could do it myself.

But I definitely made sure that *I* was the one torquing the flexplate and re-connecting anything that’d be a pain if he’d accidentally screwed it up. This was a project I had zero interest in repeating…at least not for another 13 years!

Naw! Actually, now that I’ve done it once, I know what to expect and the next time I have to do it, it’ll be a lot quicker and even more fun.

This pic just looks nifty to me. You can see my reflection in the oil pan and, I dunno, that’s just artsy or something to me. I dig it.

Notice how dirty I was? That’s nothin’! My tranny had been leaking and getting steadily worse. On the day I got the car buttoned back up, I kept getting pissed off because it seemed no matter where I grabbed under the car, my hand got filthy and slid off. I’ve since solved the cause of that problem, but she still needs a good steam cleaning.

Funny, how I started this post by mentioning my new coveralls and I’ve gotten this far before realizing that in the two pics, I wasn’t wearing them. That day just happened to be a little to warm. Believe me, my new coveralls saved me from puddles of tranny fluid, pounds of scraped-off grime and provided a nice warm layer of protection from the cold concrete on the days that I did wear them.

Let me go look for an action shot…

Yeah… Here’s one from the early troubleshooting days when I thought I had some kind of engine problem rather than the flexplate/tranny problem it turned out to be.

Special thanks again, to all the people at CarCrazyCentral.com who watched my video and then suggested what might be wrong. This would’ve been so much harder without all that help!

I Think. I Can’t.

For an experiment (and because I really didn’t know what was wrong and had exhausted my resources), I’d made a little video which I posted at CarCrazyCentral.com in hopes that someone might know what my car was suffering from. Here it is again…

And their advice worked! I felt confident about diving in and dropping the tranny even though I’d never done it before. I knew it’d be a lot of work, but as long as it needed being done in order to fix the problem, I was completely willing to do it. And here’s what happened…

Never again will I trust Jason with a torque wrench. I love him dearly, but unless he’s willing to go through what I did in order to fix the car (he’s not), he is no longer allowed to use a torque wrench on my car. I let him do stuff that isn’t as critical or is easy to get at, but nothing that involves dropping a tranny or pulling a motor. I’ve learned my lesson!!!!

Beyond that, here’s a funny little story that happened during the flexplate fiasco:

I was under the car, trying to line up the tranny on the jack to the engine and I was really having a hard time. I only weigh a hundred pounds, so I don’t have a lot of leverage unless I’m grabbing onto something under the car. Yoga has made me immensely stronger, but come on, I’m too little to effective all the time.

So, there I am, under the car. The tranny pan had been leaking forever and the whole underside was not just grimy, it was slippery, too. Every time I tried to grab something while fighting with the tranny, my hand–or foot–would slip. I sighed in defeat and crawled out from under the car. I was so pissed, I didn’t pay attention to how well I wiped off my shoes or my hands as I went inside to ask for Jason’s help in getting the tranny lined up so I could put a few bolts in.

Well, during that expedition, I made a nice little footprint path from the garage to the living room–on our white carpet. Needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled. At the moment, getting my car back together was way more important than dirt on the carpet, so I mollified him with, “I’ll clean the carpet tomorrow if you help me get the tranny lined up.” He was still pissed, but we got the tranny in and he even stuck around to help bolt up the exhaust and get the starter back in.

Later that day, I called Eddie. He’s got miracle cures for stuff like dirty carpets. He told me to use some OxyClean with a little laundry detergent in order to get the the carpet to come clean…maybe.

The next day, I set about doing that. It worked great! So great, in fact, it left clean spots! Grrrrr…

While Jason wasn’t thrilled about that, either, it did prompt us to go out and buy a carpet cleaner. Ignoring the ‘use only our brand cleaner’ bullshit warning in the owner’s manual, he used Eddie’s recipe of OxyClean and laundry detergent and did the whole house!

We’d been considering getting tile or at least replacing the carpet, but thanks to Eddie, my mishap and Jason, our carpet has never been whiter…

This is one of the many reasons I love cars. That little tranny foray saved us probably ten grand in unnecessary home improvement money!

All’s well that ends…well…

Since my last post, I’ve pulled apart my car and found that it wasn’t a cracked crankshaft, it was a loose flexplate.

A little bit of loc-tite and a whole lot of wrenching later, I got the car back together and started her up. Perfect.

Except that when I dinked with the tranny pan to get it to stop leaking, it was the end of a very long day and I goofed when I put the filter on and now I gotta take off the pan again and redo what I’d goofed.

The good news is that’ll take about a half hour tops. The bad news is I can’t seem to find 30 minutes of non-sleep time. Oh well. Perhaps by the end of the week.

I didn’t take as many pics as I’d hoped. I also haven’t looked at what I took. If there’s any worth posting, I’ll of course post them!

It is, after all, Valentine’s Day today, so I’m just gonna toss out a little something related to romance– Ashleigh Raine is going to have some news in a few months. Some really, really good news. I can’t talk about it yet, but oh how I want to.

When I can talk about it, I soooooooo will!!!

Spinning Wheels

This was before all the fun started. I like the array of cars and sportbike in the background. I felt like I was definitely in for loads of fun.

I’ll be posting more videos at CarCrazyCentral, but for now, notice my big grin…? I was sitting in the backseat while my Buddy Jim Wilkey from Wagon Train Productions drifted the car every which way and then some.

What a New Year!

We’re into the new year by only a couple weeks and I’m already smokin’ busy. I’ve been editing video like it’s going out of style. Wineass.com is still my primary editing gig. I’m lovin’ it.

I don’t have much more to report just yet.

I think I might have a broken crankshaft in my Mustang Fastback. I’ll be tearing her open shortly to see if that really is the case. I both hope it is and hope it isn’t. I hope it is because that’s what it sounds like and I hope that opening it up will show me that’s all that’s wrong. I hope it isn’t because…well…who wants a busted crankshaft in their engine?

I’ll be snapping pics of the whole ordeal, of course.

Just found this pic from 1998

While sifting through a file of non-car pics, I found one that is totally car-related. One of my favorites from this time period.

I like to think of it as a true portrait of the real me. It says just about everything anyone needs to know about me. (Well, except that I don’t normally wear pink. I just happened to be wearing pink on the day this pic was taken. Just imagine the shirt is blue or something.)

This also demonstrates what I mentioned a few posts earlier… Hand a guy a camera and ask him to get a few shots of me working on my car and there’s always a butt shot in there. And this was taken before I got a digital camera, so you can imagine my surprise when I got the pics back from the developer! Ah well.

Like I said, it’s all me. I’ll work on my car any time, anywhere, while wearing anything.

Hell, when my car caught on fire the first time, I was wearing a skirt. Yeah, on the side of the road, there I was using my fire extinguisher while trying to keep my skirt from flying up and giving even more of a show than my car.

Got the fire out.

Told all the tow truck drivers to get lost. They tried to take advantage of me, thinking that I’m just a dumb girl and I don’t know anything about cars. HA! Once the flames were doused, I was back on the road in ten minutes. No tow required.

IT’S INEVITABLE…

Why did I title this entry “It’s Inevitable”?

Here’s exactly why:

Whenever I hand a camera to a guy and say, “Could ya snap a couple of shots of me workin’ on the car?” there’s always at least one of my ass!!!! Oh well… All in good fun, I suppose.

I dunno what it is about me and working on my car, but I really enjoy sitting in the engine compartment while I work. It also seems to cut down on the back strain somehow.

This is my least favorite thing to do. I dunno why, but I hate scraping gaskets off and cleaning the surface. It’s not that I suck at it or anything. And I have lots of patience for it, but I’m thinkin’ maybe I just like to have a tool in my hand rather than a rag.

I figured that while I was there, I might as well retorque the heads. Sadly, I’ve only got a hundred pounds to put behind a torque wrench. Leverage is my best friend.

The next couple shots are the struggle to get the intake back in. Yeah, it’s easier to pull the distributor so it’s out of the way, but as of late, it has been easier to work around the distributor than have to re-stab it. So, here I go, getting the manifold back in without smearing the silicone.

Not too shabby. I’m leaving out the oddyssey of the bolt hole that needed tapping in the head, the metal shavings everywhere, the second oil change and the initial silicone mess during my first failed attempt at getting the intake on. Those aren’t important…*cough, cough* (Yeah, they’re just what working on cars is really all about: adventure!)

The next shot was from when everything went smoothly…

Okay, smoothly except when I accidentally sprayed carb clean on the Band-Aid over my busted knuckle from the day before. Yeah, I hit it so squarely that the pad soaked up the carb clean and transmitted it to my open wound before I could get the darn thing off and quit being grumpy about it. (Hey…it stung…a lot…)

After a few more grumpy faces and a whole lot more cussing, I got back to torquing down the manifold.

And at the end of the adventure, I was one seriously happy little chick. I love my car. I love my car. I love my car!

Imtake Manifold Off. 20 Minutes. Done

Jason didn’t think I could pull my intake in 20 minutes. Well, here’s proof. (We didn’t have a stopwatch running, though. It might’ve taken me closer to 25 minutes because I wasn’t actully in a hurry to proove anything. I mostly just wanted to show Jason that I could do it and it really wasn’t that big of a deal.)

There’s really not much involved… I started with the fuel line so that I could get the carburetor out of the way.

I don’t recall how, but I’d already busted a knuckle. Can you believe it? (Okay, yeah, so it’s not hard to bust a knuckle while working on car. At least it wasn’t bad enough to drip blood everywhere… I just kept on workin’.) And it’s not like I’d be sticking my middle finger in puddles of gasoline or carb cleaner or just about every other automotive fluid–’cause they all hurt!

The car was still kind of warm… Luckily I had a few shop rags close by to use as…uh…potholders.

I was trying to beat the clock while not actually rushing. The first socket I’d found happened to be quarter inch, so I ran with that instead of digging out my three-eighths set up. I’m an equal opportunity tool wench.

And here you have it… Me climbin’ in to get better leverage and yanking out my intake manifold. Yippee!!

Putting it back together took more than 20 minutes, but after cleaning everything up, I could’ve easily done it…had my engine been a little more cooperative, that is…

Otherness: Rift is now available!

In celebration of my first solo novel being released from Samhain Publishing, I’m posting a somewhat cancan-Leeloo-related pic.

This was the day that my best friend Eddie went with me to Hollywood to get an orange wig. Leeloo’s hair isn’t traffic cone orange and this was the only non-traffic-cone-orange wig on the Boulevard it seemed. No, I didn’t wear the peacock outfit to Hollywood, I bought it there, though. I love vintage shops…

Yeah, in this pic, the wig is too long to be Leeloo from the Fifth Element. My hairdresser did an awesome job hacking the wig into shape, but you’ll see her masterful handywork when I get the Leeloo pics up.

I’ve already got a set of sleeves lined up to put onto the peacock jumpsuit. Now, if I could just find the time to do it…

This last weekend was spent working on my car. Jason made the mistake of not believing me when I said, “Shit, I can take that intake off in about twenty minutes.” He didn’t challenge me to do it, but I still felt the need to prove that I could. I’ll be posting those pics as soon as I choose the better ones. And, yes, I did it in about twenty minutes. Neither of us had looked at the clock because it hadn’t been a real challenge, so I don’t know down to the second how long it took me.

Store not available