G -g-golly, Tooner, you’re r-right! That’s one awful sh-sh-shake!” Beanie’s eyeballs were vibrating faster than a mariachi band on steroids.
Tooner backed off the gas pedal and the little Ford pickup began to smooth out.
“Yeah. Every time I get ’er over 50 mph, the backend of this thing starts dancin’.”
Locating a wide spot on the highway, Tooner turned the 2008 Ranger around and headed back to the shop. But he was in a dour mood. “I don’t get it; how can a simple repair turn into such a mess?”
The demonized Ford had come in for a belated rear brake job – the owner had ignored the loud grinding noises coming from the rear wheels. He just decided to come in now that smoke began to appear.
Tooner had opted to salvage the rear drums via the brake lathe, but now he was having second thoughts. A serious rear-end vibration had showed up the minute he took it for the first test drive, and that was six test-drives ago.
“Maybe I shoulda used new drums instead of turning the old ones,” mused Tooner.
Beanie shrugged. “I know how you feel; I’ve been all thumbs lately myself. Almost everything I touch becomes a disaster.”
The seasoned veteran glanced over at our apprentice and snorted. “Hey, I didn’t say I messed up, junior. I’m just saying that old lathe we got might be toast! I’ve been after Slim to replace it fer years.”
“Oh.” Beanie stared glumly out the front window. “All I know is, the boss isn’t gonna be happy about this. What do we do now?”
Tooner scratched the side of his nose. “Leave that to me; I know how to handle Slim.”
The Bean was correct in his analysis of my current state of mood. For whatever reason, the shop had been having a string of bad luck. From loose oil filters to damaged wheel studs to shorted tire orders, it had been one thing after another, and this shaky Ranger was not helping things.
I caught the two of them sneaking into the front office bearing gifts – a large box of sugary donuts, to be exact. I wasn’t impressed.
“Still no joy with those Ranger brakes?”
Tooner carried the coffee carefully over to the back sink. “Let’s not talk about that right now. How ’bout I make us some fresh coffee?” He held up a brown paper bag. “Even got a bottle of yer favorite additive.”
I grabbed the bag. Inside was a bottle of Pickleduke’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Classic, the best addition to a cup of coffee since hot water. I groaned. How can you stay mad at your staff when they bring you a bottle of Pickleduke’s?
Five minutes later Tooner handed me a steaming mug of my favorite brew. I took a sip … and I nearly gagged to death.
“Yikes, what did you put in this?” Hot coffee spewed across the room. “Are you trying to kill me now?!”
Tooner sniffed the coffee pot he was holding and immediately dumped the contents down the sink. “Yer right; somethin’ don’t smell right. I’ll make another batch.”
But it was worse than the first. One taste and I had to run to the sink to flood my mouth with cold water. Basil was concerned.
“Tooner, I’m not sure what you’re up to but I don’t think you’re getting on Slim’s good side.”
Tooner scratched his head. “It ain’t me. All I’m doin’ is making the coffee as usual, only I add a good shot of that flavorin’ Slim likes. In fact, I added a double shot in the last pot just to make sure.”
Basil picked up the bottle of Pickleduke’s and took a whiff. “Well, there’s your problem. I’d say there’s something wrong with this.”
A quick call to the grocery store revealed that there had been a recall on the Pickleduke’s brand – and specifically on the Chocolate Peanut Butter Classic. It turns out somebody at the factory had accidentally added a dose of vinegar to the batch.
“See, I told ya it wasn’t me.” Tooner was relieved. “That bottle was already like that when I bought it!”
Basil smiled. “Perhaps there’s a correlation here to your brake job.”
Beanie frowned. “You mean, like somebody has already worked on it before and messed it up?”
“Can’t be,” growled Tooner. “Them brakes still had the factory clips on the drums; they’ve never been off that vehicle.”
Basil shrugged. “Maybe not some-body, but something … like a pre-existing condition.”
“Pre-existing…”
A strange look came over Tooner’s face. He turned on his heel and marched out to the service bays and it wasn’t long before he found the source of the vibration.
It wasn’t some out-of-balance brake drums or anything to do with the brakes at all. It was a couple of bad U-joints in the driveshaft, a condition that had arrived with the vehicle when the customer dropped it off.
Ever since that day, Tooner has insisted on test-driving every vehicle before he works on it – even if it only needs a new headlight bulb. Sounds excessive, but I understand how he feels.
That’s why I won’t drink my coffee now without first pulling out the litmus paper. One can never be too careful.
