"Slim, this is the worst tasting coffee I’ve ever had the displeasure of consuming at your pathetic establishment!" Buck Pincher spat loudly into the trash can. "And not only that, it’s cold."
I looked over at the battered mug he was holding. "That’s because it ain’t coffee. You grabbed some dirty engine coolant I was saving to show to a customer – a paying customer, I might add."
Buck slammed the mug on the counter and bolted for the washroom, clutching wildly at his throat. I should have felt bad, but I didn’t. Buck not only drinks more than his rightful share of my world famous java, but he steals all the sugar cubes when nobody’s looking.
When he staggered back into the room later, I got right down to business. “Besides free coffee, what brings you here today?”
Buck jerked his thumb towards the parking lot and croaked, “See that fine example of vintage iron out there?”
I squinted through the front window. “You mean that beat up ’91 Saturn coupe? And what’s with the old tires tied to the front and rear bumpers?”
He bristled. “For your information, the brakes are spongy. So I added some extra cushioning fore and aft.”
I groaned. Buck was famous for his home-made fixes – he’d do anything to save a dollar. “So why bring it in now? Did the cops finally pull you over?”
“My daughter is wants to drive it, and it’s gotta be safe.” He frowned at me. “You know the drill; don’t spend too much money!”
Shortly after Buck left, Tooner staggered into the office. Looking white as a sheet, he lunged towards the front counter. “Coffee! Gotta…have…coffee…”
“Sorry, this one’s spoken for.” I grabbed the old mug before he could reach it. “I’d recommend the stuff in the pot.” I noticed his trembling hands as Tooner poured a fresh cup from the carafe. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I almost did – my own!” He sucked back a long swig. “I was coming down Mortician Mountain this mornin’ when my brakes gave out.”
I chuckled. “Tooner, you’ve got to get yourself a new vehicle. That old truck of yours will be the death of you.”
“Thanks for stating the obvious.” Tooner glanced out the front window. “What’s with the bumper car?”
I tossed him the keys. “It’s right up your alley – Buck Pincher’s got brake problems.”
As it turned out, the Saturn had a leaky master cylinder, so we ordered up a replacement. Installing it should have been a simple job, but then, nothing is simple in this business. The loud and raucous noises from the direction of Tooner’s bay were my first clue that something was up.
“Well, what’s the problem this time?”
Tooner threw his wrenches onto the bench in frustration. “I can’t get the air outta this stinkin’ master cylinder. The middle two brake lines won’t bleed properly.”
Basil climbed out of the front seat. “If I recall rightly, Saturn was the first one to offer anti-lock brakes on a vehicle in the economy car price bracket. These early systems can be a tad difficult to deal with.”
“D’ya think?” Tooner wasn’t impressed with the stats. “I’ve tried to activate the ABS solenoids with our scan tool, but apparently you can’t do it with this model.”
“Great,” I said. “Now what do we do?”
Basil rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, you have a couple of options. You could try reverse bleeding the system from the wheels up. That will usually force any air up and out of the master cylinder.”
Tooner grunted. “Sounds like a lotta work. What’s my other choice?”
Basil shrugged. “Take it for a drive.”
Tooner’s eyes bugged out. “With spongy brakes? That pedal is so low I’d have better luck stickin’ my foot out the door!”
I frowned. “Wait a minute, Bas. Why would you suggest driving it in this unsafe condition?”
He chuckled. “It’s simple, really. You need to initialize the anti-lock braking system to open the check valves to the rear brakes. To do that, you must get the wheel speed up over 12 miles per hour. After the ABS initializes, leave the engine running and finish the bleeding procedure.”
After his near death experience on Mortician Mountain, Tooner wasn’t too keen on driving a virtually brakeless vehicle. So he went looking for our reverse bleeding equipment, only to discover Beanie had lent it out to a buddy for the weekend.
The next thing I knew, the old Saturn not only had its spare tires remounted front and rear, Tooner was also sitting in the driver’s seat with pillows strapped to his body.
“Feeling a little nervous, are we?”
He glared at me. “If I hear one joke about crash test dummies, someone’s gonna die!”
Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far before the ABS kicked in. After a fresh round of cracking the bleeders at each wheel, we were able to get Buck’s Saturn up and running again – or should I say stopping.
“Now that you’ve fixed Buck’s brakes, maybe you should work on your own.”
Tooner waved me off. “Nah, I kinda like Buck’s original idea. Maybe he’ll cut me a deal on his front and rear bumper tires.”
I was astounded. “You mean you’re gonna pay him money for those old tires!?”
Tooner snorted. “Who said anything about money? All I gotta do is offer Buck a cup of your free coffee – he’s a sucker for it.”
I glanced at the mug of old antifreeze still sitting on the counter. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that…”
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.
