Editor’s Note: Welcome to The Car Side, the ongoing saga about life at Slim Shambles Tire & Auto Repair. Slim Shambles is your typical independent tire dealer, and according to him, he has absolutely no bad habits – unless you count his addiction to exotic coffee flavorings.
Slim and his crew encounter all the normal things you’d expect to see around a shop just like yours, but with a definite humorous point of view.
As for Slim’s staff, there’s Basil, the philosophical crew chief. Don’t let his beat up old Fiat fool you; there isn’t a vehicle he hasn’t worked on or read about. An avid reader of ancient literature (back issues of Hot Rod magazine), Basil also studies the meditative arts. His calm nature comes in handy when a tough problem hits the shop floor.
The main tech, Tooner is the perfect conundrum. Though a wizard with hi-tech automotive gadgetry, he refuses to own anything controlled by a computer. So he comes to work in a battered old Chevy pickup truck and a crusty temperament to match.
Next is Beanie, the ‘apprentice’ tech. This young lad drives a low-rider S-10 pickup with beefed-up computer chips and wide UHP tires. The Bean is a quintessential computer geek. Off duty – when he’s not hanging out with his girlfriend Sam (delivery driver for Herkle’s Auto Parts) – you’ll find him either surfing the net or reaching new levels on his Sony PlayStation3. Finally we have Quigley, the service writer and general manager. Quig helps Slim keep a close eye on the sometimes cranky customers who arrive each day with their vehicles, ready to play ‘stump the mechanic.’ Quigley tends to drink a little too much coffee, but then, what GM doesn’t?
While The Car Side characters are fictitious, the actual automotive repair and tire problems they deal with are not. In fact, each story is based on a real-life problem encountered out in the field and ends with an actual “field fix.” A problem-solution delivered with a giggle. We all know that a sense of humor is crucial if you want to survive in this business!
So read on – we hope you enjoy this new regular feature.
“Doggone it, Beanie, ya did it again!”
Beanie paused in his dealing. “What – didn’t I give you enough cards?”
Tooner threw down his hand. “Ya gave me enough; they just ain’t all cards!” He held up a hardened slice of processed cheese. “I think this belongs in yer sandwich.”
I squinted at the cheese. “And judging by the green-tinged edges, I’d say it’s from last week’s menu.”
Basil sighed and laid down his cards. “I must admit that I share Tooner’s concerns, Beanie. Everything associated with you lately has become decidedly untidy.”
The Bean just shrugged as he ignored the crumpled lunch bags and candy wrappers piled high around him. “What’s the big deal? A little mess doesn’t hurt anyone.”
When I first hired Beanie, he was a clean-cut, conscientious young man. He does good work, but lately his attitude was leaning towards insolence, with a dash of sloppiness on the side. “Maybe a little attention to your environment would be in order, Bean.”
“Hey, I’ll be certified soon. I think it’s time I start choosing my own way of doing things.” He stuck his nose in the air. “I may not be neat, but at least I use deodorant.”
Tooner bristled. “Hey, that was personal!”
A little later I made my way out to Beanie’s bay, climbing over take-off tires and a collection of parts from the last three jobs he’d done. “Bean, are you in there?”
Wheeling himself out from under a 2002 Chevy half ton, Beanie wiped his oil-soaked hands on his filthy coveralls. “Just finishing up.” He grinned broadly. “Another successful intake gasket job on a 4.3 V6!”
We’d done a number of these intakes lately – coolant leaking into the oil – and Beanie was getting faster with each one. But when he started the engine a few minutes later, “successful” wasn’t the first word that came to my mind…or to his lips.
“Uh, Bean, I don’t think I like what I’m hearing.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “And the engine doesn’t sound great either.” A loud metallic tapping noise rose and fell with the engine rpm. “Maybe it’s just a piece of carbon,” he suggested hopefully. By this time, the usual ambulance chasers had arrived on the scene.
“Nice work, Mr. Almost-a-Certified-Tech,” chortled Tooner. “You’ve certainly got my attention.”
Basil frowned. “That sounds a little too sharp to be carbon.” He looked forlornly at the messy work area. “Beanie, are you sure all your tools are accounted for? Perhaps you dropped one down an intake port when you had the manifold off.”
“No way!” Beanie replied fiercely.
“And I’m not missing any nuts or bolts, either!”
“Well, right now that’s a debatable subject.” I slapped him on the back. “But since you’re the big shot tech, start diagnosing. We’ll be enjoying lunch if you need any advice.”
Beanie spent the next few hours undoing all his hard work, searching vainly for the cause of the noise. He checked for broken valve springs, bent push rods, damaged rockers…anything that might give him a clue as to what was causing all the racket. It was afternoon coffee break when he finally dragged himself into the lunchroom.
“Aw, I’m stumped. Any suggestions?”
Basil finished trumping my hand. “Have you tried shorting out the cylinders to isolate the sound?”
Beanie sighed. “Yes, but nothing changes. Sometimes it disappears for a few seconds, but it always comes back.” He sank into a chair. “I checked each cylinder with our bore scope too, but it’s hard to see everything.”
“Then you’ll have to pull the heads. I’ll wager something is wedged between a piston and the cylinder head.”
Beanie groaned. “How do I know which head to start with?”
Basil smiled and fanned out the deck of cards. “Pick a card, lad, any card…”
Beanie got the hint and returned to his project. Fortunately, he got lucky. The first head he pulled off revealed a small screw lying on top of piston #5. Closer inspection revealed that aside from a few markings on the piston, no further damage had been done.
Tooner held the offending piece of metal up to the light. “Looks like a distributor cap screw!” He glanced sideways at Beanie. “Ring any bells?”
Beanie picked up the distributor assembly from the bench. “Both screws are still in this cap,” he said defensively. “It wasn’t me who dropped that thing in there.”
Basil rubbed his chin. “It’s quite possible that somebody from another shop dropped the screw when changing the distributor cap in the past, and just left it laying there. Then when you lifted off the manifold during your intake job, the screw rolled into the intake port.”
“Time for a policy announcement!” I declared. “From now on, we blow all the junk off every engine before starting any major work.” I pointed at Beanie’s messy work area. “And here’s a footnote for you, buddy. It’s called ‘Keep your workspace clean or we’ll vote you off the island!’” I gave him a significant look. “Catch my drift?”
He swallowed hard. “Y-y-yes, Boss. I’m a new man, you’ll see!”
The next morning we were back to our cards again as Beanie prepared for his work day. Tooner jerked his thumb towards the service bays. “I’m all for cleanliness, but don’t ya think Mr. Bean is overreactin’?”
“What, you mean the surgical gown, mask and gloves?” I shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Personally, I’m glad to see his work area nice and tidy for once, but I wish he’d finish cleaning up the lunchroom. These cards are a mess.” I checked my hand. “And speaking of which, I got a full house. I believe I win!”
“Sorry, Slim.” Tooner laid down his hand. “Four of a kind. I got four tens an’…” he held up the last card. “…one slice of tomato.”
Rick Cogbill, a freelance writer and former shop owner in Summerland, B.C., has written The Car Side for a variety of trade magazines for the past 14 years. “A Fine Day for a Drive,” his first book based on the characters from this column, is now available for order at thecarside.com. A collection of his past The Car Side columns is also available at that website.
