Vanity, vanity; all is vanity. Truer words were never spoken, especially if Solomon had been thinking about Beanie Madison when he penned his lament 2,300 years ago.
“Hey Bean, quit staring at that mirror – you’re gonna break it an’ bring us all bad luck.”
“Very funny, Tooner.” Beanie pulled out a well-greased comb and ran it through his thick locks one more time. “Hmm, I think I need a little more mousse.”
“More?” I shook my head in disgust. “You’ve got more lube up there than a Dana 60 front axle.”
“It keeps my hair in place,” said Beanie defensively. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a hairdo like mine.”
Tooner snorted. “Hairdo? Slim just wishes he had hair – period.” He swallowed some lukewarm shop coffee with a grimace. “Kid, I ain’t seen a ’do like that since Elvis was a teenager.”
“Well, Sam likes it,” retorted Beanie. “And that’s all that matters.”
Basil looked up from his newspaper with raised eyebrows. “She actually told you that?”
Beanie’s cheeks turned red. “Not in so many words…but at least she doesn’t laugh at me like you guys do.”
Basil chuckled. “Now there’s a girlfriend with restraint.”
I don’t know what brought it on, but lately Beanie’s been more concerned with having every hair in place than about honing his diagnostic skills – which was why I assigned him to his latest job. The 2003 Chevrolet Silverado parked in his bay had a couple of trouble codes: P0101 for issues with the mass air flow sensor, and P0420 for catalytic converter efficiency. It was time he learned that customers don’t pay us to look good; they pay us to think smart. We’re not fashion models.
After coffee break, Beanie was back under the hood of the Chevy, removing the mass air flow meter for inspection and cleaning. Once removed, he set it on his workbench and reached for the choke cleaner and a stiff toothbrush.
“Hey, hold up there,” growled Tooner. “Don’t be in such a hurry with that brush. Yer gonna break them sensor wires if yer not careful. A good blast of that choke cleaner should be plenty.” He thought for a moment. “An’ how come yer startin’ at this end anyway?”
Beanie frowned. “Well, that P0101 code is a performance-related code for the MAF, right? I just figured it must be dirty.”
Tooner pulled a long face. “Yeah, but you also got that catalytic converter code. Never seen a cat code yet that wasn’t a bad cat.”
Beanie swallowed hard. “So where should I start?”
“Lemme think.” Tooner removed his greasy cap and scratched his greying head. “If I remember right, the computer calculates the flow of air through the MAF based on a number of things. An’ if you got a restriction in the inlet or the outlet, or got a vacuum leak, then it’ll throw the calculations off and cause the MAF code.”
Beanie barely heard him as he snuck a quick look at his hair in the tiny mirror stuck to his toolbox lid. “Uh yeah, so…?”
Tooner glared at him. “Pay attention, pretty boy. As I was sayin’, I’d look at the cats. For example, what kind of readings have ya got on the O2 sensors?”
Beanie hadn’t checked them yet, so after carefully cleaning the MAF sensor for good measure, he reinstalled it, cleared the codes, and test-drove the truck. All the same trouble codes returned.
With the truck warm and running, he checked out the waveforms on both the upstream and downstream oxygen sensors. “Hey, Tooner, everything looks great here. Both sensors are toggling nicely. In fact, they’re almost mirror copies of each other.”
“Yeah, you like mirrors, don’t you?” Tooner came over for a look. “Only problem is that’s not what they’re supposed to be doing. The front O2 should be switchin’ all over the place, while the rear one should be steady. That would mean the converter is doin’ its job.”He waved his hand at the scan tool. “What I see here is a cold cat that’s dead in the water. Probably plugged up and throwin’ off your MAF sensor.”
Properly chastened, Beanie got down to business and did a backpressure check on the exhaust system. Sure enough, the converters were partially plugged. Basil came by for his usual comment. “Seems to me I remember this truck from last year. Didn’t it come in with an intake leak at that time?”
Beanie frowned. “What would that have to do with anything?”
Basil clucked his tongue. “Beanie, Beanie, put your mind on your work. An intake leak will make the injectors run rich, and if left too long, it can sabotage the converters. Actually, it’s very common problem with these trucks.”
Beanie sighed. “Okay, I get it. So, should I order up some new parts for the exhaust?”
“Better check with the dealer first,” said Basil. “Catalytic converters have a very long warranty period.”
Later, I found Beanie back in the lunchroom, once again staring at the mirror over the sink. “Sheesh, Bean. Are you playing with your hair again?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then he shook himself and sighed. “Slim,” he said, “I used to think that what you saw in the mirror was how things were. Like on that Chevy truck. When the two O2 sensors were copying each other, I took that to mean everything was normal.”
I shrugged. “So?”
Beanie held out a glob of his sticky hair. “I’ve been looking in this mirror and thinking this is how cool guys normally look. Now I’m not so sure.” He turned to me. “What do you think – do I look normal to you?”
Now what do you say to that?
