"Sure," says Wayne. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Changin' my brake shoes." Pretty soon, here comes Jake, CheckerAutoParts box hugged to his chest. His necessary parts.
"You ever done this before?" I query.
"Nope," grins Jake. "How hard can it be?" [I guess that IS the question.]
Pretty soon he's taken the back tires off and is having trouble getting the outside of the wheel drum off. Wayne has disappeared. Jake walks towards the house. "Gonna look on the Internet, figure out how to do it," he mutters.
Wayne comes back with auto-wise neighbor in tow.
"C'mon, Jake," says this experienced shade-tree mechanic. "I'll show y'how it's done. Not hard." [I mean, how hard can it be?] This guy has that stubborn wheel drum off in a trice.
"Now then, I'll need a piece of cardboard. . ." and he proceeds to take out the little springs and levers and du-jiggies, laying them in the right position on a piece of mechanic paper from the driver's side floor.
"Now then, Jake, y'take off the pieces and put yer new parts in there. Don't tear the other wheel apart until y'have this one back together. Use it for a pattern so y'know where parts go. When y'get this side fixed so it looks like the other side, then y'can tear that one apart and use this side for a pattern. . . . See ya." And with that, he saunters back across the street.
The CheckerAuto brake shoes are the wrong kind. Jake goes to Napa and gets the right ones.
About an hour after he comes back, Jake's working on finishing up the second tire's brake shoes.
He and his Dad have
been talking back and forth across the car. 
"Does this spring go here?" "Can y'see where this spacer goes?"
Stuff like that.
I am weeding flowerbeds, putting the sprinkler on the lawn, wandering around now and then to snap a picture. Would love to stay and watch the whole production, but how much can you observe when a guy's head is clear in under the fender? It's like watching grass grow.
Pretty soon the brake drums are back together and the tires bolted on. Dad & son take the cement block and the jack out from under the back of the car. Jake is ready to go finish his car inspection with the guys who wanted to charge him in excess of $200 to do the brake job. He takes his old brake shoes and greasy hands along as proof that he has done it.
He backs out of the driveway and waves his greasy paw. "See ya," he says. "Thanks for the help. Thanks for the sandwich." He's gone.
After all, how hard can it be???
About 10 minutes later, Wayne muses, "I wonder if Jake's brakes work?"
[For your information, they did . . . but he SHOULD have taken another sandwich, he told me later.]
2 comments:
Oh Annie, I do love this family trait of "How hard can it be?" Great post about your bouncing-baby-boy-with-greasy-hands!
Love you,
Joanie
Okay, that's impressive! I decided a while ago that I either had to marry an auto mechanic or a wealthy man... So I am impressed that Jake has learned to do some of those things. I would not trust myself...just get a mechanic I like and go ahead and pay for it.
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