Have you ever been on TV? I have. At least I think I have. Honestly I don’t remember. But, the things that people get on TV for, you know like stopping a bank robbery, stop a terrible accident, or saving a life? I didn’t get on TV for those.
I did them.
But, they weren’t heroic. Not in the moment.
I was president of a small startup based in Orem, Utah. We had rented the upper story of a building next to the Scera Theater on 600 South in Orem. Actually we had half of the upper story. We were a pretty small shop. But, we had a beautiful picture window that looked North. I had a wonderful view of our back parking lot and Mt Timpanogos, the most beautiful mountain in the world.
One day my team was all out at lunch. We were way behind schedule and everyone was stressed. I took advantage of the quiet to spent a few minutes standing at our window and gazing out at the mountain rapidly loosing it’s snow in the late Spring sunshine.
My quiet was disturbed by the figure of a man running through our parking lot. He had his hands wrapped around the front of his bulky coat. Way too heavy for today’s weather. He got into a blue mini-SUV and left. And I went back to staring at Mt Timpanogos and thinking about my September deadline.
Several hours later, my team was back from lunch. I was in my office when our office manager, who did duty as our receptionist told me the police were here to see me.
We rarely got visiters at all and never police officers. I invited him into my office and he informed me that he was investigating a recent bank robbery.
Right around lunch time today. Since the bank shares a parking lot with your building I was wondering if you might have seen anything?
I wasn’t much use giving a description of the robber. The bank tellers had seen him up close and personal. But, they had no idea what kind of vehicle he used. Now they did.
Apparently, it was my tip that let them track him down. He’d actually hit several banks up and down the Wasatch Front. The branch next to us was the last he hit.
Would they have caught him without me? Probably eventually. But, it was my tip that broke the case.
But, it was anything but heroic. I didn’t even know I was stopping a bank robbing string while I was doing it.
I was riding shotgun in my friend’s SUV. We had a carload of boyscouts and were headed south for a weekend campout. We’d had a late start and by the time we got to southern Utah, it was dark. My friend pulled out to pass a truck, one of those big semi tractor trailers. The oncoming traffic was about a mile away, but closing fast. The truck dutifully backed off and gave us space to move back into the lane. But, my friend showed no signs of pulling over.
The headlights of the oncoming car were closing at a combined speed of about 120 miles per hour, our 60 plus his 60.
And still my friend wasn’t pulling over.
And suddenly I realized what was happening. My friend thought that we were on a four lane highway. We were actually on a two lane highway.
You’re in his lane, Darrin. You’re in his lane.
The first car at us swerved off to the left shoulder. To his credit, Darrin didn’t panic. . .much. He cut the wheel hard to the right and we slipped in front of the semi just as the second car reached our spot. Darrin was pretty shaken. The semi driver behind was seriously upset as evidenced by his continual flashing high beams.
The boys had no idea how close we had come to death. They were busy watching a DVD on the in car entertainment system.
But Darrin knew. Him, me, probably the other driver. We were as good as dead in a headon at a combined speed of 120 MPH.
Heroic? I don’t know. But, certainly important. And no one except Darrin and I knew about it.
I did know the time I was saving a life when it happened. But, that doesn’t mean it was at all heroic.
My son was about seven years old. His siblings, aside from his twin brother, were all with a year or two of his age. They were playing. I don’t even remember what they were playing with. But, somehow my son managed to almost swallow a marble. It was stuck in his throat. My other children came running to get me as my son was slowly turning blue.
I’ve taught the Heimlich Maneuver multiple times. I’d never used it. Not until now. I spun my son around and quickly placed my balled up fist just below his ribcage. placing my other hand on top of the first one, I gave a quick thrust. The marble popped out immediately.
My son, freed from his distress immediately ran back to avoid losing his next turn.
Heroic? Who knows. But, at the time it had less of an impact than who won the next round of whatever game they were playing.
Have you ever done something truly heroic? Did you know it at the time? The truly important things that happen to me only seem memorable in hindsight.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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We didn’t live in France. The legal drinking age in France is 16 for beer and wine. But, if a child is with their parents, it’s up to the parent’s discretion.
Society is right now in the middle of a protest season. People are protesting the brutal murder of a man at the hands of those committed to serve and protect. It could be a long hot summer of protest.
I have friends who feel the protests are pointless. That nothing ever changes. But, they are wrong. Society changes. It’s often slow. Sometimes brutally fast. Sometimes seems counter-productive. But, society slowly tries to get better.
When I was a kid, society was different in a lot of ways. One way was it’s attitude towards drugs and alcohol. No one assumed they were good for you, but we didn’t yet understand how bad they could be. We didn’t understand the effect that alcohol had an adolescent brains. We didn’t understand a lot of stuff.
But, we did the best we knew how, or our parents did. Just as their parents did a generation before them. And their grandparents before that.
I never tried drugs as a kid. I don’t think my parents did either. If they did, I didn’t know. They did smoke, but for some reason that vice never tempted me. Not even the “just light it up.”
However, alcohol was something I grew up around. In my grandparents’ house was a bar. A full on literal barroom. It had a big mahogony bar with a brass foot rail. There were neon beer signs on the wall.
I don’t ever remember seeing anyone in my family intoxicated. But, I’m not sure I would know. Alcohol was like a seasoning you add to food. But, it was added to social occasions. And at home it was a seasoning we added to dinner.
At the time, it seemed pretty natural. Normal even. It wasn’t something that was hidden. But, it also wasn’t a big deal. I don’t remember if there was a minimum age limit in our house. I’m sure there was, but since it wasn’t a big deal, it’s not something I would have noticed.
So, why’d I quit drinking at the tender age of eleven?
My life changed. My mother married a man that would later become my legal father. He was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was a Mormon. What’s funny is that he wasn’t an active member of the Mormon church. He had been baptized when he was a boy, but wasn’t a practicing member. However, he definately thought well of the church. His daughter, my sister was a few years older than I was. She came to live with us and she brought the missionaries.
We took what are called “the discussions.” It’s how one investigates the Mormon Church. I would imagine that one of the things they teach now is that Mormon Church no longer wants to be called the Mormon Church. They prefer people use the full name of the Church.
But, back in 1976 they were still good with being called Mormons. My brothers my mother and I all joined the Mormon Church.
As you may know the Mormons, members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have a health code. It’s called the Word of Wisdom. It says no coffee or tea. That wasn’t hard for me. At eleven years old, I hadn’t yet developed a taste for coffee. No smoking. Again, not a big deal for an eleven year old. And no alcohol.
Giving up alcohol wasn’t a big deal. In fact it wasn’t a thing at all. Alcohol was just no longer part of the seasonings of our life.
That’s how I went on the wagon prior to my twelfth birthday. I’m happy to stay I haven’t fallen off in the ensuing 44 years.
And to think we aren’t even French.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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I went to WalMart today. I had to buy some DOT 3 brake fluid and a headlight bulb. (It was just that kind of day.)
Guess where I parked? Yup, as close to the door as possible. I was probably 20 cars away from the door. After I got my car supplies and started to leave, I thought about all the empty spaces. Who would ever park there? In fact, why even have all that empty space?
I’ll tell you who was parked there, a bunch of RVs. And that’s a common site throughout the summer. And they park way out in the outer reaches of the parking lot too. Those RVs are an interesting reflection on WalMart.
I spent the night in a WalMart parking lot one time. I was driving from Olympia, Washington back to Pleasant Grove, Utah and it was February. . .and snowing. . .and cold. The passes were all closed. In fact whole sections of the freeway were closed. I had headed West from Portland and the roads got too bad to continue. I pulled over and into a WalMart parking lot. I bought some food, some blankets and bundled up in my Suburban to spend the night and wait out the storm.
A WalMart parking lot is a pretty handy place to be stranded. The store has everything you could need and a lot that you probably won’t, but it’s there if you needed it. Tents, sleeping bags, hand warmers, food, drink, stoves.
Maybe those RV’ers are on to something.
I heard that a few years ago, WalMart decided to actively discourage RVs from setting up camp in their oversized parking lots. Cooler, or smarter heads prevailed and someone realized that not only were the RVs not taking parking spots away from shoppers, they were shoppers. Those RVs are full of people who are going to want to buy all that cool camping stuff that I just listed.
So, now WalMart is in favor of the RVs. But, why do they have all that extra parking space anyway? Think back to before the COVID quarantines. During the Christmas shopping season, WalMart parking lots are pretty close to 100% full. WalMart doesn’t ever want to lose a sale, at Christmas or anytime because someone can’t find a place to park.
So, during Christmas, those far away parking spaces are filled with shoppers and in the summer, those spots are full of RVs.
Apparently it’s not wasted space after all.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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It’s not what was on the agenda. In fact, it was going to bump some seemingly important things off the agenda. My daughter sounded distraught over the phone.
Daddy. . .it wouldn’t stop. . .and the light was red. . .and I don’t know what to do
Okay. Just try to calm down. Where are you right now?
In the middle of an intersection.
Are you hurt?
No
Is the car hurt?
THAT’S WHAT I WAS TRYING TO EXPLAIN. It wouldn’t stop. And the light was red and finally I used the emergency brake and now it won’t move.
So, no one was hit?
No.
Okay. First turn your flashers on right now.
sniff. . .they are on
Okay, first thing we need to do is get you out of the intersection. The brakes failed right?
Yes. That’s what I said.
Okay, you should be able to release the emergency brake and gently give it a little gas to get out of the intersection. Then, pull over to the side.
Okay, I’ll try that now. . .
Lots of “Dad” emotions going through my head at that point. My daughter’s car is an older Honda Civic. It has a couple hundred thousand miles on it. She really wants a newer car, but I’ve explained that all cars have issues. Generally with the car you have, you know the issues. And, her car is completely paid for. So, any repairs come out of the money she’s not spending on a car payment.
I drove down to Orem, where she was waiting on the side of the road, flashers dutifully blinking bright orange “please don’t hit me” messages to the passing cars.
She was mostly calmed down by the time I got there. I drove her car off the busy street into an empty Golden Corral restaurant parking lot. I think Golden Corral parking lots are probably going to stay empty. Not sure how that restaurant can survive the new social distancing rules. She followed in the Suburban.
Her brakes were soft, but not failing. I ruled out worn brake pads. There was no squealing, nor the normal mushiness that worn pads display.
My guess is an air bubble in the brake lines. I sent her on to meet her friends in my car while I carefully drove her Honda back to the mechanic’s garage that happens to also be my home garage.
Tomorrow, I’ll drain the brake lines and give the car another inspection.
Funny thing is that I can no longer remember what it was I was planning to do tonight. Nothing else seems quite as important.
Stay safe.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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Argg!
What?
I dropped it!
Do you have another one?
My son-in-law and I were working on my daughter’s car. We were replacing the alternator. I was doing the disassembly. Car repairs take place in three steps.
1. Disassembly
2. Repair
3. Reassembly
Step 2 is by far the shortest step. Often Step 1 takes the longest. Even if you are working on a car you’ve worked on before, lots of times it’s a new part of the car. I was removing a bolt that held the alternator. At least I thought it was a bolt, all the way up until the nut that it turned out to be came loose from the bolt and dropped into the hidden bowels of the engine compartment.
It might have dropped into the fan housing. It might have dropped into a spot under the alternator. It also might have fallen all the way through the engine into the loose gravel that covered his driveway.
I didn’t give up, of course. It was 45 min each way to the nearest hardware store. And it was a critical nut. We got magnets and mirrors and went over every inch of the inside of the engine compartment. It was nearly an hour before we finally admitted defeat.
Did my son-in-law have an extra one? Every DIY repair person has a jar, or a can full of old nuts and bolts. But, matching up a particular bolt to the right nut isn’t as easy it seems like it should be.
See, there’s fine thread or course thread. Metric or SAE (that’s inches and fractions.) There’s left and right hand threads. There’s steel, brass, even plastic nuts and bolts. And, of course the actual size of the bolts. And bolts come in different lengths. All those choices mean that finding the exact right match isn’t always easy.
Sometimes you have to head to the hardware store. But, even there, the choices can be overwhelming. You are confronted by all these choices.
It’s kind of like looking up a word in the dictionary to figure out how to spell it. You can’t find it unless you already know how to spell it.
Okay, kids, this was before Google let you type in the letters
vetranarian or leutenent
And figures out you meant
veterinarian and lieutenant
(Why, yes, my daughter is a second lieutenant and just became a full-time Army veterinarian, but that has nothing to do with my example.)
Anyway, the point is that if you don’t already know what you are looking for, it’s a frustrating task.
The picture above is the screw aisle at a local big box hardware store. I don’t go there anymore for screws. Instead I go to our local Ace Hardware store. It’s Allred’s Ace Hardware in Pleasant Grove, Utah.
Here’s a picture of their screw aisle.
Other than the color red rather than green, they look a lot the same. Here’s the difference.
That guy in the red vest is helping those people find exactly the bolt they are looking for. Any idea what a typical 2″ long bolt costs? About $0.87. How can it possibly cost effective to have a guy dedicated to hunting down eighty-seven cent bolts?
It’s not. And it totally is. I know if I walk into Ace with my old bolt, or with a bolt/nut/screw question, that guy in the red vest is going to spend as long with me as I need to find exactly the right part. The kid at the big box store not only isn’t going to help me do that, but he doesn’t know how.
Cost of the bolt: $0.87
Finding the exact right bolt: Priceless
Oh, and my son-in-law had a spare nut that was the right size.
Buy local when you can.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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She couldn’t go out. As a musician, all her gigs were suddenly cancelled. She was stuck in her small Memphis apartment with her cat, Mr. Peabody. Or maybe just Peabody, that wasn’t clear.
Rachel Solomon had the same issue that many of us have had over the past 3 months. We are stuck at home with nothing to do.
But, is that really true? I know for me, I’ve built a couple of bathroom cabinets. I helped my son replace the tie rods on his car. I replaced the alternator on one daughter’s car. I replaced the starter on another daughter’s car. I changed the oil on four of the five cars that regularly sit in front of my house.
I have friends who also devoted themselves to projects or found innovative wasy to social distance. My friend Kelly decided that if he has to quarantine with his wife and five sons, that they could just as easily quarantine in the mountains as in their house. Every weekend, and many week nights, he and his boys have attacked the back country either on foot, or on motor cycles. He’s been able to spend quality time with his kids.
My friends who are writers have had no touble staying busy. It’s what writers do after all.
And yet, I have other friends who are absolutely lost during this time. Their lives were very much focused on friends and social life. That life is on hold and will continue to be for the foreseeable future.
Even though I’ve had project to work on I realized this weekend that I’ve been treading water. I have some big projects I’m working on. Or rather, that I should be working on.
The average American has packed on 5 lbs during this lockdown. And yet, I have a cousin who has not only dropped weight, she is following an aggressive workout routine. She’s done 32,000 pushups over the past year. And the lockdown didn’t slow her a bit.
We are all scared. Scared of the virus. Scared for our at-risk loved ones. Scared of the riots. Scared of what’s happening to our country. There’s lots of fear. And it’s tempting to give in to that fear. To decided to hide under the desk until its over.
Everyone has to find their own motivation. This weekend, I took stock of where I am. I’ve had 10 weeks to focus on whatever I chose during my down time. (My job lets me work from home, fortunately.)
You know what my friend Rachel, the piano player did? She started performing twice weekly Virtual Piano Bars. She broadcasts from her apartment. Her first broadcase were limited by how long her cell phone could last.
Well, my phone is saying I’m at 5% so I think I have one may two more songs.
And an interesting thing happened. She got better. Not at the piano, she was always brilliant at that. But, her broadcasts became more professional. She had “flyers” made up announcing the shows. She had a virtual tip jar. (Not expected, but certainly appreciated.) She’s performed about 30 hours worth of shows over the past 10 weeks.
What have I done during that time?
Not as much as I’d like. So, yesterday I decided to make a change. None of us know how long this lockdown will last. But, if my cousin can get stronger. If Rachel Solomon can advance her career. There’s more I can do physically, professionally, and in regards to my hobbies and personal life.
I set some goals and I’m working on them.
What have you done with all your spare time?
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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They spend 35 days from when the egg is laid to when they hatch. Then, it’s ten to twelve weeks in the nest before they take their first flight. Did you know that first flight is called fledging? I didn’t. I’m not sure what I thought fledging was. I guess I always thought it had to do with feathers or something.
Anyway, when they fledge for the first time, it is sometimes gradual. They may leave the nest, but stay in the tree. But, within a week the eaglet will leave the nest for good.
So, I guess it’s fifteen to seventeen weeks from birth to flight. Or is birth when they come out of their shell?
Anyway, an eagle in the wild can live twenty to thirty years. Its childhood, at least that childhood where it’s under control of its parents is a very, very short period of time.
Not sure what made me think about eaglets fledging the nest.
When I was nineteen years old, I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My parents didn’t think I was ready to go yet. They were probably right, but I went anyway. It caused a bit of rift. But, missions are two years long. We got over it.
The point was, I made the decision at nineteen, that I was going to live my own life. Whatever mistakes my parents had made in raising me, were made with the best of intentions. They did the best they could. I needed to take it from here. Whatever I might accomplish, I couldn’t blame my parents.
I had a friend who came from a very similar background as I did. His parents were divorced when he was a kid. Mother went through a few divorces. it affected him. . .a lot. In fact, he was forty before he finally forgave his parents. He spent a lot of his life trying to resolve the issues that he had brought with him from childhood.
I got a call today. Someone, a twenty-something someone, asked for a favor. I agreed to help. The person didn’t follow up. The 20-something later ranted via text about how no one was helping. No one cared. No one would play the savior.
That 20-something didn’t want to fledge. The person wasn’t ready to fly on their own. But, by the time you are in your twenties, it’s time for eaglets to fly.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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Don’t apologize!
Why not?
Because then I have to be all nice and accept. I’d rather just stay mad at you.
– Tom Selleck’s character in High Road To China
I’m not talking about saracasm. We’ve all heard people be “nice” when they are really being sarcastic. I have raised 13 children. I’ve heard it a lot over the years.
I’m talking about being genuinely nice. And I’m talking about being nice when people are trying to insult you.
As a young man of 20, I was on a bus in Chicago one day. I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormons.) I was with my companion and a four other missionaries on our way across town. I took the opportunity to take a nap. My companion who was sitting to the right of me decided to talk to the person sitting to the left of me.
After a few minutes he nudged me.
Hey Elder, wake up. This guy has a question.
I look up was now face-to-face with a very angry Native American. He was very angry that I had stolen his land. At least that was mostly what he seemed angry about. He wasn’t making a lot of sense. My guess was drugs or alcohol. Maybe both.
I did my best to defuse the situation as much as possible. You know: calm voice, speaking slower, no sudden movement, lots of reflective listening.
You I understand how frustrating that would be. I know. That’s terrible.
It wasn’t helping. Eventually my new close friend reached in his pocket and pulled out a locking blade knife.
The blade was probably only 3″ long, but it looked like a sword as he waved it and continued to threaten me. I don’t know if I’m a brave person or not. I do know that I typically respond well to crisis. And this was a crisis.
I took a slow breath, looked him in the eye and as calmly as I could muster I said,
I don’t want to fight you.
And then I looked away. Most likely glaring at my companion who had gotten me into this mess. All the while I was thinking,
PleaseDon’tStabMePleaseDon’tStabMePleaseDon’tStabMePleaseDon’tStabMe
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him get up and move one seat toward the back. He then reached over and slapped me with his sweatshirt. At that point, I didn’t care. A sweatshirt is a lot less painful than cold hard steel.
I’ve often thought about that bus ride nearly 40 years ago. Would he have tried to hurt me if I had escalated the situation? Would it have been difficult to get blood stains out of my white shirt? What were those other 4 missionaries sitting elsewhere in the bus doing just sitting there and not helping?
The Bible says in Proverbs chapter 15 verse 1 that “A soft answer turneth away wrath.” It seemed to work on that day.
I don’t get mad at work. But, there are people who think they’ve seen me mad. They didn’t. They saw me acting mad because I had decided that in order to accomplish the objective I was working on, I needed to appear angry. I use it very rarely.
Most times I am polite. It’s just good manners. It also gets people to want to help you.
However, there are times where I want to get mad, but doing so would be a very bad idea. The next best thing in that case? Be polite. Absolutely, straight up 100% authentic polite.
Just as the quote from Tom Selleck showed, if someone is nice, other people have a difficult time not being nice. Even if they don’t want to. And if you get angry in a confrontation, the other person can choose to match your anger or not. In other words, they hold the power in the interaction.
If instead of getting angry, you choose to be polite, you now hold the power in the conversation.
So be nice. Most people will appreciate it. Those that don’t will at least have to respond in kind.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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My son researched it on YouTube. The video for how to change your tie rods was simple and straight forward. After securing a promise of my help he decided to change his tie rods himself.
Oh, and he made plans to go hang out with his friends afterward. (He hasn’t done a lot of car repairs. Typically it’s just oil changes and the occasional audio tweak.
But, the video made it look pretty simple. And the difference in price between doing it himself and having the local oil change place do it was about $150. Money that would stay in his pocket.
We sent and bought the inner and outer tie rods at the local auto parts store. Next it was a stop by the local home improvement center for a new wrench. Apparently the repairs required a 22mm wrench. That’s a pretty big wrench. I had a 19mm and I had a 24mm, but not the 22mm.
Any project, no matter how small is a great opportunity to buy a new tool.
I’m willing to help my children work on their cars. Rarely will I do all the work myself. Honestly, it’s only when I’m working on my lovely wife’s car, or a car that belongs to one of my daughters. My sons have to do the work themselves.
Is that sexist? Maybe. I certainly wouldn’t stop any of my girls who wanted to learn about car repairs. But, call me a softie, I fix theirs.
My son gets to do his own repair. But, I’m willing to help. Sometimes, I have to walk away. The first step to replacing the tie rods is to remove the tires and jack up the car. . .in that order. More or less.
If you jack up the car first, you can’t get the lug nuts off. The tires will simply spin. So, you have to take off the tires before you jack it up. But, of course, you can’t do that either. So, you have to start to take the lug nuts off. Just break them loose before you jack it up.
My son got his 17-year old younger brother to break the lugs free. His younger brother is a football player and weighlifter. We have a wrench that is in the shape of a cross. It’s called a star wrench. Which would be accurate, I suppose if a star had four points.
Anyway, the easiest way to get the lugs broken loose is to put one end of the wrench on the lug, hold the opposite end in your hand and then step, or stomp on extended points. That wasn’t nearly heroic enough for my football playing son. Instead he insisted on grabbing the extended parts of the wrench and use his arms and shoulders to physically turn the wrench.
Like I said, I’ll help, but if they want to do things the hard way, that’s their choice.
There are three parts of any car repair. First is disassembly. Next comes the actual repair and finally is reassembly. The second step is normally the shortest. Disassembly takes the longest, typically.
This repair was no different.
Tie rods connect the wheels to the steering column. When you turn the steering wheel, the tie rods push the wheels left or right.
As you might imagine well maintained tie rods are vital. The bolts and nuts holding them on are tough. In fact, they were a little too tough on my sons car. The bolts stripped rather than come loose. We ended up using a grinder to cut them off.
Fortunately we had new ones. But, that wasn’t in the video. It took longer than expected. As did the process of removing the boot from the inner tie rods. And we eventually decided we didn’t need to replace the inners. So, we had to put the boot back on and a really annoying bracket. More time that wasn’t in the video.
Eventually we got all the right parts taken off. It had been several hours. My son got a call from his friend.
I don’t know. We are putting the tie rods on now. Let me check. Say, Dad how long do you think it will take us to finish up? Twenty minutes?
You might want to plan on a little longer than that.
Yeah, I’ll call you back when we are done.
Assembly was the last step. We didn’t plan for the fact that my son would put the castle nut on upside down. Or that torquing the castle nut would collapse the rubber housing around the outer tie rod.
More time that wasn’t accounted for in the video.
Finally, we put the last bolt in. We tightened the last nut. All that was left to do was grease the joints. And that went smoothly except for a tiny pinprick in the rubber boot of the passenger side tie rod. The rubber boot that is supposed to seal out dirt and seal in lubricating grease.
Done?
No.
Good thing they have a lifetime guarantee.
And that was where we left it. It was eleven PM. No chance to return anything tonight. It was certainly longer than the twenty minutes he was hoping for.
Six hours we spent working on his car. And it wasn’t complete. The YouTube video made it look simple. Not a single aspect of the repair went according to plan.
Was it worth it? He saved $150, but it took six hours. But, here’s the thing: the chance to hang out for six hours with my son, working side by side.
The time flew by. Honestly, I didn’t know how long it had been until we had to stop. I think you call that timeless.
I know I call it priceless.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
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LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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Elder, what language were they speaking?
That’s Dutch, Elder.
That don’t sound anything like what they taught us in the MTC. Elder do you think I’ll ever be able to speak like that?
Sure you will. One day, someone will come up and ask you a quesiton and you’ll answer him without even thinking.
– “The Best Two Years”
No one sets out to become an expert. Oh, maybe in a few things. My daughter is a 2Lt in the Army. She has gained the rating of Expert Marksman on the rifle range. But, for most people, they don’t set out to become an expert. Most of the time, we just want to be good enough to get along.
I’ve become an expert in a few things in my life. Mostly by accident, or simply working on improving everyday.
The quote above is from a movie about Mormon missionaries in Holland. I was a Mormon missionary in Chicago. I was working with deaf people. I practiced daily for months and months. By the time my two years was over, I was a fluent as any deaf person. To compare to a spoken language, I signed like a native.
My first “real” job was working for WordPerfect Corporation supporting their email product. In a poor naming decision it was called WordPerfect Office. I worked there for years. I got pretty good. I remember one day on the phones a person asked me a question. I didn’t know the answer. I thought of who I might ask. The programmers didn’t understand as well as I did, how the customers were using the product. The same went for testers. I was the most experienced person on my team. I suddenly came to the realization that there was literally no one in the world who could answer that question. If I didn’t know the answer, no one did.
I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer to that.
Oh, that’s okay. I was just curious.
I had become an expert without realizing it.
Over the weekend we went to visit my daughter’s ranch in Southern Utah on Saturday and Sunday. My younger daughter went down on Friday. She called me and told me her car broke down just outside the gate to the ranch. She explained the problem and I packed some tools to take down with me. My son and I talked about it on the two hour trip there.
Well, she said that it just quit while she was driving. It’s most likely the alternator.
My son-in-law called me while we were on our way.
Yeah, it looks like the pulley totally came off the alternator. The belts are pretty chewed up.
We bought a new alternator and new belts. Then, on Saturday, as my lovely wife, kids and grandchildren went off to enjoy the obsidian beds and the nearby lava tubes, my son-in-law and I replaced the alternator.
Today another son asked me to come “listen to my car.” It was making a weird rattle noise when he accelerated above 30 MPH. I noticed it right away. It was centered around the right front wheel.
It’s either a broekn belt in the tire, or possibly a bent rim.
Well, I did hit a pothole pretty hard.
It could also be that you dropped one of the weights they use to balance your tire.
So, you don’t think it’s an engine problem?
No. Definitely not an engine problem.
Later he took it to the tire dealership where he bought his tires. They ran it through a series of tests. He told me what they found.
They said my tie rods need to be replaced, but that wasn’t creating the rattle. They think the rim might be bent. They attached some weights to try to balance it out.
I realized then that twice in two days, I’d correctly diagnosed a car issue without even really thinking about it. I had become Elder Calhoon from “The Best Two Years.” At the end of the film a man comes up and asks him directions for the train. He answers him without thinking.
He’d become an expert.
When did it happen?
While he was working on figuring out how to get by.
Stay safe
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved