Cheating Death

Good evening!

Let me start off this post by thanking God that I am alive to write it. Saturday, I had a brush with death and I still can't fully wrap my head around what happened.

I'm watchin' you...

It all started on Friday when my hubby and I went to visit our friend to provide emotional support and act as witnesses because Child Protective Services was invading her house on totally bogus charges made by a former acquaintance. He contacted CPS and made up outrageous claims to get back at her for getting rid of his stuff which he had dropped off at her house and refused to come back and pick it up when she told him to (he also texted and emailed her what he was going to do, so there are legal grounds for prosecution against him for this too). Thankfully, our good deed worked and the CPS caseworker closed the case. After the caseworker left, my husband took our friend to get some cigarettes and she accidentally left her phone in the car. None of us realized that she'd done this, and it wasn't until we got home and I was cleaning out the cupholder when I saw it was there. Since it was getting dark and my hubby had to change out the grommet on the gas tank (it was very worn and leaked fuel every time we filled the tank more than halfway), I figured we'd go by her house the next day and drop it off before going to Confession. It was her only working phone and I didn't want her to be stuck without it for long.

Saturday was spent doing housework and working on the car (the gas tank was fixed, but that damned electrical short has returned!). We were aiming to go to our friend's home first and then to Confession in the evening, but first we had to stop and get gas. My husband and I observed that the tank itself was in good condition (there was not a spot of rust or perforation anywhere inside that tank when I looked into it as my husband was replacing the grommet the previous day), and he wanted to see how much gas it held when completely filled. The screen at the pump read 24 gallons when my husband had to manually stop the pump because the tank was overfilling. He was thrilled because that meant our cholomobile's gas tank was a full-size tank appropriate to a C-body Mopar (they ranged in size from 23-26 gallons)!

And that was when all hell broke loose.

As my husband was pumping air into the rear air shocks, he saw to his horror that the fuel line had ruptured on the car! Gasoline was spilling onto the concrete and if the leak wasn't stopped, the scene could get deadly in a hurry. My husband got under the car and stuck his finger in the leak to stop it while I ran into the store with the baby in one arm and a 5 gallon bucket in the other to fill with water and wash off the gasoline that was now dousing my husband. One of the assistants in the gas station also came to our aid by filling up the bucket with water and pouring it on my husband, getting me the number to a local cab company so I could call and get a ride to the nearby auto parts store to get replacement fuel line, and calling the fire department to help contain and manage the highly flammable mess.

Kaboom!

Fortunately, the cab arrived at the gas station within 10 minutes and transported the baby and I to the auto parts store. The cabbie was kind enough to wait for me in the parking lot while the boy at the register cut me a foot of replacement fuel line (Even though I had part of the original line with me for reference, I would later discover the line the teenage boy at the store sold me was the wrong size, but I didn't realize it until much later after we got home). The fire department was just leaving when I came back and paid the cabbie for his service. They had sprayed my husband down with a soapy foam mixture to wash the gasoline off of him. His clothes were ruined and he sustained first degree chemical burns on parts of his back (gasoline is a corrosive solvent!), but the situation was under control. The gas station's manager threw some sandy substance onto the ground to absorb the water and gas mixture, and my husband put the new fuel line in place. Once it was attached, we went straight home. Our visit to our friend would have to wait till Sunday. After we got home, my husband checked the vent lines of the tank and saw that they were leaking too, but this time, the situation was not as critical. The leaking vent lines were replaced, but it was mostly just overflow from an overfilled gas tank.

As we were driving home, my husband explained to me the gravity of what had just happened. Since gasoline is so flammable (and people are notorious about not following the anti-smoking instructions posted at gas stations), and here he was doused in the stuff, a careless customer who was smoking or talking on a cellphone could have set off a spark which not only would have turned my husband into a human torch, but also turned our car into a gasoline-filled bomb. The baby and I could very easily have been caught in the blazing inferno, as well as other customers and their cars. The fire department would have been dealing with casualties and alot of destruction. In fact, just before they left, the firemen thanked my husband for his quick thinking to get under the car and plug the line before calling them because his action had saved lives and property.

Angels watchin' over me

I used to wonder about how I'd react when faced with my own mortality. Would I be indifferent? Would I fight back or cry? Would I be relieved to finally cross over the threshold so few return from? Well, here I was, one spark away from meeting God face to face, and I was...numb. I'd been so hopped up on adrenaline, racing to get the replacement fuel line and water all while toting the baby in one arm, that the idea that I might die because of the gas fumes igniting didn't even register on my radar. Even now, a few days later, I still can't believe how close I came to meeting a grisly end. And, that was without anything actually happening. My guardian angel was working overtime to make sure nothing happened to us, or anyone else.

As for our friend's phone, we got it back to her on Sunday afternoon before we went to church. She was freaked out when I told her how close we came to getting barbecued on Saturday evening at the gas station because of the ruptured fuel line. Unfortunately, she couldn't come to church with us, but she was glad to see we were ok and to have her phone back.

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Car Troubles, Part II

Greetings, dear readers.

Yesterday, I posted about how our cholomobile was out of commission. What started off as an ordinary brake job devolved into an ordeal involving a loose oil pump and now a knocking lifter in the engine. My husband feared the damage was immense and would cost a fortune for us to fix.

Our cholomobile still needs some surgery. The tarp keeps the sun and rain off of it while my hubby works

Last night, my husband consulted the advice of many seasoned Mopar owners on a forum he belongs to for Mopar car owners. The users suggested that the knocking lifter was likely stuck and that it got that way when the oil pump got loose and dropped the oil pressure in the engine. They suggested letting the engine run for about an hour on a low and slow idle to re-grease and un-stick the stuck lifter.

This afternoon, my hubby did exactly that. He adjusted the idle setting on the carburetor, turned on the ignition, and let the engine do its thing. At first, the knocking was loud, but then after about ten or fifteen minutes, I began to hear the normal engine sounds coming over the knocking. It was going away! My husband was overjoyed since it meant that it was just a stuck lifter and that more serious damage had not occurred. Eventually, the noise subsided to just a slight tick with each rotation, much like how it was before this whole mess started. My husband monitored the oil pressure and saw that it was holding steady within the low end of normal.

So now that we know that there is a lifter that's a little sticky in the engine, it's something that we're gonna have to keep an eye on. Chrysler made some damn tough cars, but they're not invincible. Until we can get the money to get an engine to rebuild this one, we're just gonna have to baby the car. My husband hasn't taken the car out for a spin yet to see how it handles, but he will soon enough. He still had a few things to take care of on the brakes before this while shitshow went down.

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Car Troubles

Hello everyone! Hope you all had a safe and happy 4th of July.

Owing to my largely anti-American views, I don't typically celebrate 4th of July. But, it doesn't stop me from grilling or watching the fireworks. I had planned to spend the day with a family friend, except the Devil threw a very nasty wrench into those plans.

The day had started off normal enough. My hubby got up early and was working on the passenger side front brake after he heard some chattering coming from it. Figuring the shoes were worn out, he opened up the drum and saw that in addition to the shoes, the bearings were worn and it was actually a broken retention spring that was causing the noise. No biggie, we'd ordered a whole bunch of break parts because my husband knew they'd need some attending to just cuz of their age.

Car surgery

Later on, after he was done, my husband decided to test out the new brakes by going on a short trip to the store to get some pop and cucumbers before the 4th of July crowd got really bad. As he was going down the street, he noticed that the lifters in the engine were making some noise. He thought it odd, but he then stopped, poured a bit of oil into the engine, and continued down the street. As he turned the corner, however, the noise became louder and my husband told me he then looked at the oil pressure gauge next to the steering wheel and it showed zero pressure. He stopped the car and turned it off, and tried to knock on the oil pump, thinking a clog had stopped it up. My husband finally turned on the car, ooched home and once it was in the yard, he jacked it up to see what was going on with the oil pump.

Well, after spending nearly the whole day working on it, he discovered that the oil pump was loose! The engine's vibrations had shaken it loose from its spot because the previous owner hadn't installed it correctly. After cleaning and re-greasing it, my husband reattached the oil pump and turned the ignition switch. The gauge registered its normal pressure reading, but there continued to be a loud clanging noise emanating from the engine. My husband is now convinced either a lifter is stuck or totally broken. Either way, our cholomobile is out of commission for the time being. Fortunately, if we have to go somewhere, we have friends to rely on for rides and the city bus is marginally effective in moving us from point A to point B.

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The Play Date

Good evening, dear readers.

It was blazing hot on this Dope Day Thursday. We made our way to the clinic to get my husband's medicine and see our friends there. Even though I've been accompanying my husband to his clinic since before we were married, our subsequent transition into parenthood has gained us a few friends there who are also parents in recovery. I've written before about being the wife of a recovering opiate addict and while it's not always easy because the stigma of addiction is still so powerful in our society, most of the addicts are ordinary good people who need all the support they can get to stay clean, just like anyone else who is battling a chronic illness.

Baby get together! My husband and daughter with Little Friend and her aunt

On our visits, we've befriended a mom, her sister who lives with and looks after her, and her now-4 month old daughter. We first met them when her daughter was just a mere six weeks old and despite having been born prematurely, my husband and I have shared the ladies' joy in watching the baby grow healthy and strong. Our daughter has taken a liking to the infant and is happy to see her little friend every time we meet in the clinic's waiting room. Though the babies don't exactly play much with each other cuz, well, they're babies and they haven't quite figured out how to interact with another strange little human; they smile and reach as well as make noises at each other. When Little Friend gets a little bigger, I'll see about setting up a proper play date for our daughters to play with each other. Now that she's getting older, I want my daughter to start learning how to socialize and deal with other people her age cuz this is a very important skill for becoming a functional member of society. It'll also be good for me cuz taking care of a baby 24/7 is a very exhausting job and I need the company of fellow moms as an occasional break from the demands of parenthood.

After our clinic visit, we went to Mass and then to the home of another dear family friend. Her computer was in dire need of some updates, and she hadn't seen the baby for a while. It was while we were going up her driveway that a rather frightening incident occurred. Since our friend lives on a hill, her primary driveway is very steep and regardless of whichever vehicle we're driving, I always get very nervous going up her driveway because I imagine the car either conking out due to the grade or flipping over when going down the driveway to leave. Well, my fear came somewhat true when I saw smoke pouring out of the vents in front of the windshield and seeping inside the car as it spluttered up the driveway, followed by the horrible smell of burning wires just before we made it to the top. When we got to the top, my husband parked the car and turned off the engine, opened the hood and threw the kill switch on the battery to stop the currents. Sure enough, the alternator's lead wire had shorted and melted. It wasn't as bad as it sounded or looked and my husband proceeded to re-wire the alternator, but not before sending me and the baby into our friend's house where it was cool.

In the weeks leading up to this incident, we'd been having some problems with the alternator in the car. Whenever my hubby would goose the gas, the car would splutter and he observed the voltage dropping significantly during the hiccup. Then, just a few weeks ago, my husband had to replace the alternator after the damn thing completely busted and the resulting massive short burned up no small number of wires under the hood. After the alternator and the damaged wires were replaced, the car behaved better but still spluttered whenever my husband stepped on the gas pedal quickly. Chalking it up to him being a lead-foot, I frequently reminded him to take it easy when pressing on the gas pedal. I was feeling apprehensive about going up the driveway, and my feeling was vindicated by the shorted wire. I made my husband swear that until the spluttering problem was fixed, we were not to go up that driveway when visiting our friend. Fortunately, she has a few others that lead to the property which aren't car killers.

My daughter and one of our friends granddaughters. She was in love with my daughter from the day she was born.

The actual visit itself was pleasant enough. Our friend had her grandchildren over and they were sitting with her on the couch, watching TV. The baby got to show off her standing skills and play with our friend's granddaughters. Her youngest girls are four and five, so while they're a bit older than the baby, they're still close enough in age to make for playmates. Her preteen granddaughter also played with the baby, which was nice since she absolutely loves babies and small children. As we played, my hubby fixed the car and then came inside to work on the computer. Once finished, she paid my husband and we left to go home.

Play dates are fun. I look forward to having more of them.

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Good Friday

A blessed Good Friday to you all, dear readers!

Despite our best efforts, my family and I were unable to go to Good Friday Mass since our bout of the norovirus still has us feeling a little off. Successfully, we were able to go to Stations of the Cross at our other Carmelite church. This is always an event we look forward to because the procession goes around the property and its very involving.

I got many pix of the procession, though not at all the stations. It was quite lovely to do this little procession on one of the holiest days of the year.

The altar of repose, where the Eucharist is placed to symbolize Jesus' burial

First station, led by our homeboy padre (in red stole) and two guest Carmelite brothers from the seminary in California

Carrying the cross

Our padre invites the men in the crowd to join in carrying the cross

My hubby is at the front of the cross, barely visible from this shot

Second station, hubby (in headband) holding up the cross

Third station. The man in suspenders is a visiting priest from the UK, though he's in plainclothes today.

Our padre invites the women to carry the cross. I'm at the end in the white shirt and black-and-white hat.

Me helping to hold up the cross at the Fourth station

Our homeboy padre leads the kids in carrying the cross

The youth/young adult group carry the cross

Eleventh station. We sang the Salve Regina at this station since our padre had been leading us in a Rosary in addition to the traditional prayers and this was the end of the Rosary

Thirteenth station. Almost done

Hubby helps carry the cross inside to the Fourteenth and final station.

As an added bonus, we got to show our homeboy padre our cholomobile. He was pleased to see it since a vehicle of that vintage would have been a common sight in his childhood. He gave us a blessing and we went on our way. It would have been nice to stay for Mass, but we were totally beat. That being said, it was nice that the Mass was gonna be in the evening, unlike the absurd morning hours which were set for the Stations and Mass at the Latin Mass church. If we had been in better health, we definitely would have stayed for the Mass.

After we got home and ate fish for dinner, hubby and I put the baby to sleep and watched "The Passion of the Christ". This is an annual tradition of ours that began on Easter weekend in 2012, before we were married and were still in the friendship stage of our relationship. This movie is also tied to our relationship because it was after we finished watching this movie that I asked my then-friend now husband why he'd never been married and he responded that he'd prayed for a wife but she never came. It was then that a voice, completely unprovoked, came into my head which asked "what if I'm meant to be your wife?" That question would be answered over the course of the next few months, but it was the beginning of my first real relationship and my liberation from my family.

Have a blessed Good Friday and Easter weekend.

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The Tires

Good evening, dear readers

Today was the day we FINALLY got the tires changed! Thanks to a number of delays and missed opportunities, we didn't get the other tires until last week and one of them was shredded from a blowout. This morning, my husband went to our favorite neighborhood "llantera" (Mexican tire shop) and got the blown out tire redone. The second tire we were given had a leak, so the boys at the shop patched it up and made sure it didn't leak.

Man at work

When he got home, it was time to get rid of those damned spoked rims and replace them with the proper balloon tires that were just fixed up. My husband also rearranged the tires, putting the larger tires on the back and the smaller ones up front in a more traditional arrangement.

How to take off a cholo tire

As part of my continuing education in car repair and maintenance, my husband let me have a go at changing one of the rear tires.

This tire was changed just in time. The spoked rims were beginning to shred these bolts too.

Out! Out, damned tires!

Unfortunately, I had to stop after one tire. The baby was becoming fussy, but it was also very sunny, windy, and incredibly hot. I suspect the heat was messing with her a bit too since she was throwing up and had diarrhea all afternoon, though it was conceivable that she may have ingested something which didn't agree with her (being a VERY active 10 month old baby, she puts EVERYTHING in her mouth). I spent the day intensely hydrating the baby with water, Pedialyte, and breastmilk. She's been keeping food down and had no runny stool all evening, so I think she's in the clear.

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Rearranging

Happy Monday, dear readers!

Today I began the formal rearranging of the bedroom to make room for the new crib. Unfortunately, my husband didn't get a chance to get the paint and wheels for the crib because he had to come home and scream at the insurance company. Like most insurance companies, they're playing games with our payout and delaying its send out for various BS reasons or another (note to everyone reading this: Omni Insurance is the car insurance company from hell and should be sued out the ass for fraud). The agent told my hubby that the check should be coming by the end of the week, but we'll see. I have the contact information from the Southern Arizona Legal Aid Society on hand so we can take these motherfuckers to court and make them pay up once and for all.

While my husband dealt with the insurance company on the phone, I began taking apart the cradle. It wasn't hard to do, but I felt a little sentimental doing it because I remembered borrowing my husband's ratchet and putting it together when we moved in. It really put into perspective how much time had flown since the baby was born. One thing I'm truly grateful for is that we even got to use it. It would have been absolutely devastating to have gotten the cradle, put it together, and then have to take it apart again because the baby did not come home from the hospital alive.

Work in progress

All done. The cradle is no more

After I put the remnants of the cradle in the shed, covered in a plastic garbage bag to protect it from the elements and the cats, I proceeded to take down the religious pictures and sacramentals that hung above where the cradle once was. I then cleared everything off the top of the dresser, took out the drawers, and moved it to the spot where the cradle used to be. It was not easy because the dresser is heavy, but I managed to pivot it and walk it over. I suspect the original occupant of this trailer had a dresser in this same area too, since the layout of the room limits the way it can be arranged. At any rate, it was nice to be able to see the window across from our bed again, and also to see that we had an extra outlet which I had forgotten about. When my husband came back into the bedroom and saw me putting the drawers back in, he was surprised and pleased by my work. Together, we found new places to hang our religious items back up.

Physics is your friend

Though she didn't like it at all, thank goodness for the baby jail because it kept the baby out of the way while I was moving furniture around the room. Once I was finished, I let her out of the jail and allowed her to come back into the bedroom to continue playing.

A friend gave us this play mat. There are supposed to be things dangling from the bars, but she couldn't find them when she gave it to us.

Tonight, I'll research what kind of paint to get and how much it will cost. I want something non-toxic since this will be going on a crib and the baby will likely chew on the sides as her teeth grow in.

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Palm Sunday

Happy Palm Sunday, dear readers!

Today marks the start of Holy Week, a week of intense prayer, fasting and abstinence as a means of preparation for Easter. On this day, we commemorate Jesus' entry into Jerusalem where He was greeting with palms and shouts of joy. His fellow Jews thought He was going to liberate them from the Romans and upon realizing that was not what Jesus was about, they had Him executed a few later on Good Friday. It's quite bipolar when you think about it, how quickly He went from being celebrated to crucified. It really gives an insight into the mindset of humanity post-Original Sin, as Canon Bill phrased it during his sermon today.

Daddy and the baby, looking cute for church

As is customary, we got palm leaves and went on a procession around the church. It was nice to be able to witness our faith being displayed for all to see.

Follow the priest and altarboys!

Canon Bill (in red) and the altar boys leading the procession

The choir

Kids with palms

Home stretch towards the front

Follow the leader

This part is where the priest and the choir recreate a dialog between the Roman guards and Joseph of Aramathea to seal the tomb where Jesus is laid

Back inside. Notice how the statues are shrouded. This is done during Holy Week as for devotions and the statues are then unveiled during the Easter Vigil Mass.

Canon Bill reads the Gospel.

This was also the first day we got to drive our cholomobile to our Latin Mass church and show it off to our friends and fans there. There was another debut too-we finally upgraded the baby's car seat from the baby carrier to a proper forward-facing car seat. We knew the time had come when the baby's feet started hanging over the edge of the carrier and it was getting harder to buckle her in. Since the carrier has been retired, she now gets to ride sitting up and facing forward in the stroller like a big girl.

In Arizona, primo parking is wherever there is shade. Our cholomobile is in primo parking under the palo verde tree

Cruising in style like a big kid

Unfortunately, the baby became very fussy during Mass so we had to go up to the kiddie ghetto. It was just as well that we did, because my husband spotted an ex-associate of his tailing along at the end of the procession and going up into the kiddie ghetto was the most convenient way to get away from her. This is not the first time this woman, or another crazy person from my husband's past showed up at our Latin Mass church, likely to spy on him. The University draws alot of people like them to the area, but I also think of the Parable of the Two Churches. Where God is present, the devils swarm like flies because He is there.

After Mass, we joined our longtime family friend at a nearby Waffle House for brunch. This may be the last brunch we all have together because a serious issue that had previously been quietly simmering in the background with our relationship is beginning to become more and more prominent. My husband is doing a novena to the Holy Spirit to discern how to proceed with this matter, but it will have to be confronted soon. For now, however, we wait and pray.

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The Brake

Good evening, dear readers.

Today, my husband finally got a chance to look at that troublesome back brake on the car. It's been making a loud banging noise for the past week which we suspected was caused by a loose shoe banging around inside the drum from an improper installation. Now that we acquired a sufficient jack, it was time for my hubby to lift up the rear of the car and have a look at the damage.

What he discovered was astounding.

This drum brake took a real beating. The only two bolts that remained were one intact bolt and one that was half-sawed through by the tire.

As it turns out, the brake was just fine. Everything from shoes to springs was intact and in its proper place. It was the tire itself that was causing the racket, but only because there wasn't much holding it to the hub. The bolts securing the tire to the hub were absolutely destroyed! The previous owner had put these ridiculous 20" spoked rim tires on the car which was totally the wrong thing to do because these tires provide no cushioning from the bumps and craters that make up modern roads. The combination of the weight of the car plus the heavy weight of the tires plus the constant vibrations caused by road wear tore up most of the bolts that attached the wheel to the car.

It is a bonafide miracle that tire was even still attached to the hub with most of the bolts looking like that

Translation: with only one and a half bolts holding it in place, the tire was loosely wobbling with every rotation and that bothersome banging noise was caused by the tire hitting the springs each time the wheel turned. I was not wrong in my initial thought that the tire might somehow be involved in this mess, but because I do not know much about mechanics, I couldn't pinpoint exactly what was going on there.

In addition to shredding the bolts, the wobbling tire also bored larger holes in the drum's hub

This is the first time I've ever seen a real drum brake up close and personal. This one is pretty worn out

While the brake will have to be replaced eventually because of wear, it is a huge relief to know the damage is not worse. My husband had to make a run to the auto parts store on the city bus to get some replacement bolts and some welding putty in order to make the car safe for driving. In the process, he discovered the previous owner used undersized bolts on the hub, so he had to buy bigger bolts to properly fit in the hub's holes. As he was installing the replacement bolts, I remarked that I was half-temped to bring a lawsuit on the guy for endangering us with his incompetent mechanic job. My hubby then proceeded to remind me that it would have been useless since he admitted he wasn't much of a mechanic and we had every opportunity to back out of the deal and did not do so.

Cruiser being a car cat and roosting on the roof of his domain

Tomorrow, once its daylight, my hubby will have a look at the other brakes to see how they are. They sound worn, but otherwise ok. Despite some initial work that is required to make it safely drive-able, I don't believe we bought the car from hell. One thing to be said about old cars is that what you see is what you get. Unlike modern vehicles which have computers in them which in turn can complicate exponentially what goes wrong in them, old cars are meant to be easy to fix and maintain. Even in its current state, I feel much more secure in this car than in a modern one. I'm just relieved that this will be a simple and cheap fix. Replacing bolts is much more favorable than replacing the entire brake.

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The Oil Change

Good evening, dear readers. I hope your Monday has gone well.

Today was a much needed day spent working on the car. Since we purchased it last week and have been driving the car around town on errands and appointments, the scope of repairs needed has widened significantly. Right now, the high priority repairs involve replacing a back brake, as one of the shoes has broken off inside and makes a loud banging "GA-DUNK" sound every time the wheel turns (these are old-school drum brakes, not modern disc brakes. I actually thought it was the tire going flat the first time I heard the banging coming from the rear, only to find the tire was intact and holding air), and replacing the seatbelts since they're rotten and falling apart. As bad as limited functionality seatbelts are, the brake bothers me more than anything else because brakes are what actually stop a car from moving! Fortunately, the other brakes work, but they're not in great shape. I suspect the seller we bought the car from had the vehicle in parts and then haphazardly put it back together again when he wanted to sell it. It's drive-able, but the seller admitted he wasn't much of a mechanic.

As we are able to, repairs need to be made to the wiring in the instrument panel (it only has partial power) and the gas tank since we discovered yesterday that it leaks at the seal. There is also a tune-up in order. But thanks to a paperwork screwup from the insurance company, our payout check to make these repairs is being delayed. This pissed my husband off mightily since we need the money to make our car really safe for the road. But until the paperwork gets sorted out and fixed to the point where our payout can be sent, we'll do whatever rigging we can get away with to create some semblance of safety because we really need our car. This is what happens when you live in poverty in America. Your car may not be considered "safe" for the road by conventional standards, but you don't have much of a choice about whether or not to drive it because the alternatives are either nonexistant or too costly.

Time to go to work

Since there's not much we can do without funds right now, we did our first oil change to kick start the tune-up (the seller, either through neglect or out of charity, provided us with parts like sparkplugs, hoses, clamps, etc to do a tune-up). My hubby bought a five gallon jug of blended heavy 10W-40 motor oil for the summer, and a new fuel filter. We also got a six-ton jack since our cholomobile is higher up off the ground and heavier than our Oldsmobile. Thanks to all the owners manuals and diagrams my husband has been downloading and meticulously studying in his characteristic Asperger's zeal, he knew right where the oil pan was and where to set the safety jacks in the front and sides of the car. I told him I'd do the work, but he was to point out what was what and where it was. He agreed to this instruction since learning how to repair and maintain my own automobile is a long-term goal of mine which he wholeheartedly supports.

Hubby setting up the jacks and getting ready to pump up the car

The first step in any oil change is to raise the car. People who DIY and can afford it, use a ramp. Others, like me, use jacks. Jacks aren't as safe as ramps, but they'll suffice. I did have a bit of a scare when I was pumping up the six-ton jack and the car slipped off of it. I was not under the car because it was not at an adequate height for me to squeeze under yet, but as soon as I noticed the wheels turn towards me I rolled out of the way as fast as I could as the jack fell and the car settled on all the safety jacks we'd set up. After my hubby lowered the jack, he reset it up again and resumed lifting the car, sending me around the raise the safety jacks as the car's level increased. With the amount of strength needed to lift and pump jacks, I can understand now why auto repairs are more typically considered a man's work, given that men are physically stronger than women. But, it doesn't excuse me from not knowing how its done since I don't trust that any man I may get involved with after my hubby dies will know anything about fixing cars in the first place! It took my own brother getting several flat tires before he learned how to change them instead of waiting for a tow truck to arrive.

Channeling my inner Freddie Mercury. I've only unscrewed an oil pan twice in my life, neither time have I lost the bolt plug. Booyah!

It actually took a second for me to find where the oil pan and the bolt holding it closed were. For whatever reason, Chrysler designed the bolt to be on the ass-end of the pan, facing the rear of the vehicle. Even our Oldsmobile's oil pan had a bolt that was easier to access than this one (it was also in the back, but the pan was closer to the front bumper)! My hubby used his socket wrench to start turning the bolt and let me finish twisting it off with my hand. I'm getting better about it, but once again, I had to brave my anxiety about going under a car and having 4200 lbs of steel death looming inches above the upper half of my body. But, I victoriously emerged holding the greasy bolt and let the nasty dirty oil pour into the drain pan underneath. It was clear the car's oil hadn't been changed in a while, given how little oil there was (about a gallon's worth) and how black it was.

It's so empowering to be able to do something and say with pride "I did that!", even if it's something small like successfully draining a car's oil pan

Unfortunately, I had to take a break from working on the car because the baby began fussing and would not stop until I came and picked her up. She then refused to let me put her back down and resume working, so I just took the new oil filter out of its box and got it ready for my husband to oil up and install. The oil filter in the cholomobile is actually much easier to access than the one in the Oldsmobile. This one is in the front and installed straight up. The oil filter in the Oldsmobile was installed at an odd angle, which made accessing and removing it somewhat difficult.

Finally, it was time to put the new oil in. My hubby got his funnel and with one hand holding the baby and the other holding the jug, I poured in the new oil. Eventually, I had him take over holding the baby when my arm started to hurt from the weight of the oil. I poured the entire contents of the jug into the oil reservoir. You could tell the car needed that.

Despite her cherubic smile, the baby did NOT appreciate me putting her in the walker. I didn't mind letting her play in the grass, I just didn't want her to crawl under the car while we were working on it.

Eventually, I had to stop working for good and take the baby inside because the setting sun meant it was getting cooler outside and she began to fuss again. My husband finished by topping up the fluids and putting a bit of leak stop fluid into the radiator to at least temporarily stop a worn freezer plug from leaking water.

We're done for now, but sooner or later, the spark plugs need to be examined. Hubby heard a knocking in the engine which indicated that a spark plug was misfiring. We'll look at it tomorrow when it's daylight. I also want to have a look at the starter because whenever my hubby starts the car up in the morning, it splutters and coughs. He sometimes has to turn the ignition a few times and goose the gas pedal before the engine starts to sound normal. He says its a normal Chrysler engine's response to cold (something about the choke?), but I want him to have a look and be extra sure.

But to end on a pleasant note, a few of our neighbors passing by stopped to look at our car. Our neighbor across the street actually came over and chatted with us for a bit. He works at a local gas station, but his father was a race car driver in Mexico so he grew up learning all about cars and how to work on them. He complemented us on the car and how it sounded as well as how much he hated new cars because of how complicated they were to work on. He also told my husband about how his gas station was in desperate need of new employees because even though he wasn't supposed to, he had to work nights six days a week because there was no one else to work those hours. My husband asked our neighbor to bring an application so that he could fill it out. After all these years, he may finally get a stable, paying job to help pay our bills and keep a roof over our heads.

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