3.12.2004
I’ll tell you what, ‘Zoners, technology and electronics are absolutely amazing! In my everyday life I use so much of it that I forget that it’s even there. I check my E-Mail, I check my voicemail on my cell phone, I can turn off fuel injectors on a car one at a time to see if they are malfunctioning. I can even electronically bid on a paintball gun on eBay without even talking to the guy! I listen to music that is magically beamed down from the heavens (via satellite) in my car or on my home theater system. I just don’t know if I can live without it now.
Now I’m no high-falutin’ electronics whiz, I’m even kinda’ old fashioned. Most of the music that I choose to listen to was made in the 60’s or 70’s, and my car is old as hell, and won’t replace it because it makes good financial sense to drive it until it explodes. But don’t get me wrong, I love new stuff like scan tools that are the same as a car dealer uses. I can program new keys for your ’03 Ford Expedition, or run the Enhanced Evaporative Emissions Vacuum Decay Test on your ’02 Trailblazer’s gas tank. I dig that stuff. I love all the stuff that is electronic. As long as I understand it, it’s OK with me. Now there are a few things, OK a WHOLE bunch of things that I don’t understand with new technology. Take my home PC for example. While trying to find a picture to post with my latest CarCzar update, I happened upon a Nudy site. Now calm down and listen to me. I wanted to find a pic of a guy chained to a wall, linking it to my job, like I’m this slave that is chained to a wall during business hours, only there to fix cars. A completely innocent action made my Internet Explorer go haywire! I couldn’t fix it, every time I attempted to open it, it said Fuck You and stopped right there. Now back to my original point of technology being the cat’s ass.
The other night, Mister William H Painter and I had a little rendezvous at my place of employment. He requested that I perform the maintenance on his car that I had been putting off for over a year. This included a full tune-up and a cooling system check up. I replaced all of the necessary bypass and radiator hoses, the thermostat and lightly power back-flushed his heater core. All of these repairs went as expected, which was unusual due to the fact that Mister Painter’s car is a piece of crap. During our time at the shop I mentioned that my PC was on the rag, and Monsignor Painter offered to give a shot at repair, with the usual low self-esteem-disclaimer that he knows nothing about computers. After a few, being 15 or 20 minutes, he quickly deduced that we needed to do this and then do that to the thingamajig. While waiting for my semi-hard drive to defragmentalizeazate and think about what it has done wrong, we consumed some Pizza-Pie and watched a video. Well lo-and-Behold…the next day I restarted my ‘puter and found that ol’ IE was working like a cham-pee-own. So after Senor Painter was so amazed at how efficiently I fixed his car, he turned around and fixed my computer. The only difference is that William H. insisted on paying me handsomely for my time, where he received nothing for his. Is that fair? I would say not. Anyways….back to eBay.
A little back-story is necessary here. While a young and tender young man in High School, I got myself caught up in the recreational sport of paintball. It started out with the best intentions, to shoot your friends with gelatin coated capsules of paint on the weekends. But I had to go crazy with it and buy any and all related accessories for the sport. The next thing you know I have 2 large wrapped up in equipment and am playing with a bunch of guys 5-10 years my senior. I ended up on a semi-professional team Called Sniper White and the Killer Dwarves, based out of Akron. I loved it, these guys treated me like their little brother, but the cost involved was killing me. So at the still young and tender age of 18, I sold off all my equipment and swore off the sport for good. As of late, I’ve decided that I need a vent for the anger and frustration that comes with my job, and have decided that paintball is the answer. Now granted, the sport has changed from underground to mainstream in the few years that I have been on hiatus, so now you can go buy a ‘player’s pack’ from Dick’s Sporting Goods for $200. But I don’t want a crappy gun, so I consulted eBay. I found the exact gun that I had, 8 years ago, just updated a bit, for a price that could afford. So I signed up for all the crap that you have to sign up for, and then placed a bid. Amazing! For the cost of a few minutes online, I now have a good shot at rekindling a dream, all without talking to this dude in Indiana who’s selling his equipment. I love technology and the pleasures that it affords us. Just take a minute to think about all the cool stuff that you implement every day, that your parents did not have just 25 years ago. It is enough to make you feel very fortunate for the world in which you live. Wireless home networks, online gaming with friends, online auctions, cell phones, voicemail, navigation systems in cars, GPS, servers and toasters that now fit bagels…all this stuff is new and exciting, just think how you would function without them. That’s all I ask.~Capt.Mooers
2.27.2004
No I don’t live and die by cars. Yes I like the
sleek sexy lines of a BMW 6 series, but I also enjoy fine dining and expensive
clothes. I’m not a motor head and I don’t own a V-8 muscle car. I drive a
six-cylinder General Motors full-size sedan with room for forty-two
passengers.
I was recently a guest at the Cleveland Home and Garden Show at the IX Center.
I just stopped by to visit Mrs. Captain Mooers and to bring her some lunch.
But in the process of finding her booth, I had a close encounter of the
great-unwashed kind. Thousands of malodorous people were milling around trying
to better their dwelling. Looking for the best Jacuzzi™, the best plantings,
the best crap to hang from their porch. But I thought to myself WHY?? Why
spend all this money that you don’t really have on this crap? Do you really
need an eight-inch bumblebee on a stick? Why not put this money into something
worth while, like your freakin car? You drove here in a ’97 Ford CliTaurus
that needs two-thousand dollars worth of work, but you just bought a
two-thousand dollar lawn mower! Where are your priorities? Your kids ride in
that car, your mother rides in that car. But maintaining and repairing it
seems to be the last thing on your mind!
Cars seem to be an inconvenience to people. It’s fine as long as it never acts
up or breaks down on you. Cars are like your two-thousand dollar lawn mower,
they need maintenance. If you buy a brand new Lexus, it may come with a free
maintenance package. All you have to do is let them take care of your car,
free of charge. Hell, if you buy a Cadillac from Central Cadillac downtown,
they’ll bring a truck to your work and fix it there! What more do you want?
Take your stupid old car to the shop and let them take care of it. Us guys in
the shop are not out to make a million bucks off of you, we just want your car
to be in good shape. Wash your car, vacuum out the interior. Don’t spill your
Coke in the console. Don’t let your stupid kids crap in the car seat and stink
up the car. These are all common sense things, but apparently, people need to
be told this. A new car is at least twenty-thousand dollars worth of stuff,
and never forget that. My car cost me 1/70th the cost of the home in which I
live, and I bought my car at five years old. Since I’ve been fortunate enough
to own my own car, I’ve LOVED my car. I’ve washed it waxed it, talked to it,
gently caressed its dashboard and called it Baby. And that was even before I
could fix my own car. I’m not a car-guy I’m a guy that fixes cars. And I take
care of my car. Every so often the interior gets a little messy, then I
realize what I’ve done to my baby and have cleaned it out and made it smell
nice again. My car is now nine years old with close to one hundred thousand
miles on and I treat it like it is new. At least three coats of wax grace the
exterior per year and the interior gets vacuumed out at least 20 times a year.
When was the last time your care saw some love from you? Do you love your car,
or is she the bitch you call when you’re horny?~Capt.Mooers
2.17.2004
So I took a brief hiatus, what’s it to you? No,
answer me jackass! Are my automotive musings so important to your daily
existence that a few days without cause convulsions and foaming at the mouth??
Ok I feel better now. Sorry for the sudden outburst of angry emotions. And
yes, I have only one emotion, and that’s pissed off. I’m pissed off and I’m
not sure what I’m mad at. Maybe it’s the stupid cock-teasing sun that comes
out and doesn’t bring heat. Maybe it’s the fact that I never should have
changed careers from smoky-the-fucking-bear forest ranger to Jebediah the Car
Fixer. I know a day is bad when I inform a fellow employee that I should have
been a forest ranger.
OFFICIAL SNIGGLEZONE DISCLAIMER: We are not responsible
for the foul mouth or poor grammar of the buck-toothed hilljack mechanic.
Alrighty, so now back to me being mad. I’m starting to come to grips with what
makes my blood boil. Here'’ the very tippity tip of the iceberg. I am one of
two senior techs in my shop, and as the only intelligent senior tech, I am
supposed to fill the capacity of Jesus Christ Himself. I am allowed to fix all
of the cars that have been allotted to me, as well as answer the questions of
all the other half-witted or “still-learning” questions from my fellow
employees. That’s fine, I will happily fix car and gain no repsect from anyone
in the process . I’ve come to grips with that and have filed it under the job
description folder. Along with this responsibility come the added benefit of
being the trouble shooter for the two other shops in our chain. Now I don’t
actually get to go see the car, nor do any actual testing on the car, I get to
explain it over the fucking phone. That’s fine, I can deal with that too, it’s
filed in the appropriate folder. Still no respect. The final, and largest pain
in my ass is the task of training new employees. I loathe this part, I can
deal with fixing cars and helping people, that’s part of my nature, my
patience is not. “just fix the Goddamn car” is part of my nature. I get stuck
with the momma’s boys, the pot smokin’ burnouts, the mildly retarded kids that
got shuffled into the automotive trade as a young man because they couldn’t
grasp the idea of super sizing a value meal. My latest endeavor was a 22 year
old who grew up without a father. He’s a nice enough guy to talk to for 10
minutes and has a beautiful tool box full of tools that he has no idea how to
use. But he had potential, could think spatially and had decent reasoning
abilities. Now back to the father thing. This poor kid claimed that because he
was raised by his mother, no instruction could be given by a male without
confusion. So when I told him to pull a car in and take the wheels off, the
poor kid would have no idea what to do. Twenty minutes would pass and the
fucking car would still be sitting in the parking lot! Now I don’t know how
many of you know Sheal on a personal level, but he would be my best apprentice
by leaps and bounds. The guy may be nancy boy, but he follows directions and
is eager to learn about cars. I suddenly feel that I’ve strayed from my
original topic…..which is…uhh…oh yeah! Me being mad.
So today I met my newest pupil, and boy I can’t wait. Ohh-hh say can you seeee!
The land of opportunity has beckoned to Jimmy. (whose name has been changed to
contain his identity) This poor guy has fifteen years of factory trained
experience with Mercedes-Benz…IN FUCKING CHINA. A recent immigrant, Jimmy
fucking Cho speaka no Engrish. Jimmy fucking Cho reada no Engrish. Jimmy
fucking Cho has no clue whether I’m telling him to fuck himself, fix a car, or
fix me some flied lice. I have to digress a minute and state that I am as
racially sensitive as the next guy, I love all people as human beings and
everyone that I meet starts off as perfect, and quickly fucks up from there.
But don’t mess with my work environment please! I can’t train you if you don’t
speak my language. All of my present co-workers speak Engrish, and still have
trouble understanding me sometimes, I don’t need some Chinese cat messing up
my vibe! My job is hard enough, With BUS communication problems, and TPS
voltages. I deal with automotive problems, not INS problems. Sure, I look like
an asshole now, but spend a day with me at work, and you’ll quickly find
yourself at the top of a bell tower with a sniper rifle, or at the bottom of a
bottle, peeing yourself. Ok I feel better now. I’m thinking that I need a
hobby that lets me vent my frustrations. Maybe I should pick up playing
paintball again….Now there’s an idea!~Capt.Mooers
2.9.2004
As I look out the window at the ice-covered snow and few remaining holiday decorations, I can only think of one thing. Numbers! You read that right, don’t worry. Christmas, New Year’s and the joy of freshly fallen snow are over and it seems that the only thing left to busy our minds with is numbers. Year-end bonuses, productivity reports
(shudder), credit card bills, the 160-bucks you spent at the bar trying to drink away the infernal snow, they’re all numbers, and they can kiss my hairy white
ass!
The end of January is a nasty
time. (yes I know it’s February, but I was busy this weekend) It’s cold, there’s nothing fun to
do and all you really care about is when the weather breaks and you can finally go outside without 17 layers of Thinsulate™. But this is also a nervous time around my shop. Us poor guys out in the shop just can’t wait to see what the brain-trust called management will come up with for this new year.
“Your numbers are up, but productivity is down, but your numbers were down
this year.” HUH? That makes no sense. Apparently in the automotive field, numbers can shape-shift. One minute they’re up, and then 13 seconds later, they’re down. It must be a game that the people in charge of
"stuff-that-doesn’t-have-4-wheels" play with the grade-school drop-outs in the shop. “If we make them feel like they’re always doing a piss-poor job, keep them guessing about ‘the numbers’ and tell them that they are worthless human beings, they’ll work harder and faster, and make bigger
numbers!” Now I’ve never overheard that quote, being a guy in the shop, but it has to be said at ‘corporate’ meetings.
I hate numbers. I just hate them, the number in my checking account is never big enough, and the numbers that come in the mail saying
"Pay now!" are always too friggin' big. But the numbers I hate the most are the type that I find at work. Nasty, dirty, incomplete, out-of-context numbers that piss in my Cheerios every morning, and piss in my pasta at lunch. If I could only find a HUGE number, take 6000 for example, make it out of metal in a three dimensional form, 15 feet tall by 5 feet deep, and drop that on the desk of my shop manager every day, I’d be in blissful heaven. What are these numbers that come out of nowhere? Talk to one person and the number for item X is 84, but then 20 minutes later ask the same person the number for item X and it’s 86. And furthermore, ask a different person the number for item X and it’s 31. What the Hell?? I don’t know, I’m just a car fixing guy that has nothing better to do than worry about fixing cars. But Jeeezus! Can’t we standardize the numbers so we can all just stop worrying about them? I guess not when you work for a small, family run business that thinks it’s a 2000 employee business, numbers are all that exists. Alright, I have bored you enough with my random thoughts and bitchings.
I’m done….for tonight. And hey, I’m still waiting more car questions. Don’t be
shy, I’m really just a calm, well mannered adult that would be happy to help
you with your motoring problems.~Capt.Mooers
1.30.2004
I’m so excited and I just can’t hide it, Zoners! Today, less than 24 hours
after my CarCzar section opened up, I received an e-mail from one Tiger Woods.
First off , I was shocked and awed by the fact that he chose me to answer his
car-related question. And as if that weren’t enough, he was the first person
to pick my brain via e-mail! Wow, I almost buckled at the knees. So to quickly
summarize his question, it seems that when he makes a left turn, the
unmistakable scent of burning hair emanates from the vehicle. And when making
a roger, Mr. Woods’ horn blows. Now with all my experience and knowledge in
the field of auto repair, one would think that this would be simple to answer,
but it was not so.
I was at my computer workstation, located conveniently next to my tool box
when the E-mail arrived at my inbox. I read it thoroughly and then returned to
the radiator replacement job that is my repair bay. While making the needed
repairs, I pondered a bit, thinking about Mr. Tiger Woods’ problem. "hmm" I
thought to myself, "now that’s a doozy." Being my first question, and from
such a well known person, I didn’t want to come up with the wrong answer. So I
fiddled around in my toolbox, as if I was searching for some magical tool with
my left hand, while searching the internet for an answer, ANY answer, with my
right. ( I have to look busy at all times at work. ) Just when I was planning
on giving up, I found a picture of Mr. Woods posted on some yay-hoo’s golfing
themed website. In this picture was Monsignor Woods driving a 1966 Oldsmobile
442. It was a beautiful car, "purple people eater" purple with double white
racing stripes down the center. Now I know you are a pretty clean-cut guy, Mr.
Woods, but since when do you use Gheri-curl in your hair, only when driving
your 442? So getting back to the question. When making a left hand turn at 45
MPH in your car, roughly 1.7625125187 G’s of force are placed on your finely
coiffed head of greasy hair. And during that turn, those lateral forces are
enough to displace that Gheri cream out of the car and onto the side pipes
that are smokin’ hot from exhaust fumes. So in all actuality, it’s not hair
burning that you smell, it’s your hair treatment. And as for the horn getting
blown on right turns, God Bless You! My horn only gets blown when I buy
diamonds or gold for the little philly that I call Ms Captain Mooers. Well, my
birthday comes around once a year too, and I buy my woman nice stuff once a
year also, so my poor horn gets blown only one time in the average year. SO!
In conclusion, Don’t drive a classic car with side pipes if you just got your
hair did, and if your horn gets blown every fourteenth time you make a right
turn, be happy, very very happy. That’s all I have to say for today, any other
questions floatin’ around out there? I’ll answer them.~Capt.Mooers
01.28.2004
Some of you Zoners may know me already, some may not. My name is Mooers. AKA
Captain Mooers, Uncle Mooers, Mister Mooers, or just That Bald Friend of
Sheal's That Makes Me Nervous to be Around. I fix other people's cars for a
living. Yes, I have all my teeth, and no, I don't wear coveralls or have
3-week-old bearing grease under my fingernails. I'm ASE certified with 6 years
of field experience. I'm the real deal Auto Repair Tech. If you bring your car
to my shop, I will put on latex gloves and then fix it, provided you plan on
spending boatloads of money! I'm overworked, underpaid, and work with at least
a dozen chemicals that are known only to the State of California to cause
cancer and birth defects in laboratory animals. Which brings me to my point,
if I could only remember what that was. Alright, now that the seizures have
stopped and I have removed the spoon from my mouth, please allow me to pick up
where I left off. Cars! They are angry mistresses, just waiting to bite down
hard at any time.
The family is all loaded up in the Dodge Caravan on July 4th weekend, just
waiting to head to the beach. But good golly is it hot out! So pops flips on
the A/C for the first and only time this year and it doesn't work. He curses
at Ma for using up all the freezone, and then drops the van off at my shop the
following Monday for a recharge like his '76 Delta 88 got, 22 years ago. "You
grease-flingin' high school drop-outs want $900 to fix my A/C! F*ck you!" I
hear that all too often. Well maybe not worded exactly like that, but close.
Automotive Rule #1- Never curse out the guy working on your car, the
price automatically goes up $50. So old pops picks up his van and swings by
the local parts store and grabs all the air-conditioning-fixer-uppers-in-a-can
he can buy. 50 dollars later, it's still 95 degrees in the van, so he brings
it back to my shop and tells me to fix it, he brought a $950 check with him. I
check out the van and find that when he ran out of cans of fixer-uppers, he
tossed some bread crumbs, Vaseline™ and motor oil in the system for good
measure. That $950 just turned into $1450 real quickly.
Automotive Rule #2- Never ever try to fix your own car, the price
automatically goes up by a minimum of $500, and increases exponentially from
there.
So please remember, your friendly mechanics are the only people that can fix
your car correctly, treat us like your family doctor. But be sure to remember
us at Christmas, we love liquor, it dulls the pain of being yelled at by every
other customer. And yes, we do know more about cars than you. So there! I'm
sure there are still lots of questions about cars and having them fixed that
remain, but they will surely be covered in future articles, so stay tuned. In
the mean time, drop me a question in the ole'
CAR CZAR MAILSACK, and I'll be happy to respond!~Capt.Mooers
