Grease Monkey

Mr. G spent eight of the last fourteen days traveling for work. Eight days that felt like an eternity, largely because the kids and I have all been sick. Baby's first cold, complete with the tiniest, saddest cough in the world. It was the sort of week where any extra trouble, no matter how small, felt like a complete catastrophe. Like, for example, when the headlight in the car went out.

I spent three days trying to avoid driving after dark, one evening pissing people off with my brights, and on Saturday my step-dad was kind enough to buy me a new headlight. Then we tried to install it. It was cold, I was a sick lady holding a fussy baby (who was dressed in a white snow suit. Note to everyone: the next time you retain a baby to assist with car repairs, dress him in dark colors), and my step-dad was a little freaked out by all the plastic under the hood of our newfangled type car. There was quite a bit of swearing and even more glorification of the beloved metal screw.

Then I got on the internet and discovered that there is actually a class action law suit against Toyota over headlight replacement. Apparently the lights are so hard to replace that most people end up at the dealer where they remove the entire bumper and charge upwards of five hundred dollars. Highway robbery! Further searches revealed do-it-yourself instructions that required serious equipment like cap ramps (I'm still not totally sure what these are except that you have to drive your car onto them so I'm guessing I don't have any stashed around the boat). I thought we were doomed until I watched Prius HID Headlight Replacement in less than 3 minutes. I briefly considered driving to California and running away with the magic headlight lady from Luscious Garage. Then we called it a day.

On Sunday my mom came by to watch the kids (it turns out babies aren't great mechanics) and I spent another hour with my head under the hood of our car. This is especially fun to do on our street because, while not an arterial, there is a lot of traffic in the form of cars, bikes, runners, dog walkers, speed walkers and even tour buses. Oh, and this guy with no clothes on. So I had quite the audience as I dribbled mucus into our synergistic engine and wiggled random wires in places I couldn't see. But I never forgot the amazing mechanic in San Fransisco and I persevered until I saved that $500. Victory dance! Fist pump! Celebratory cursing!

Who knows what I'll do next?! Watch me while I top off fluids and check pressures! I'm a car repair maniac! I've even been known to pump my own gas.