Thursday August 7, 2025 Grease Lit

    Last week's post concerned itself with my prolonged effort removing the starter in my 1993 Chevy Silverado 4-wheel drive pickup. 

 

1993 Chevy Silverado 4-wheel Drive Pickup

   Comments ranged from, "I got a 'new' pickup for you, a 2003 Chevy Silverado 4x4 that I'd sell you with only 300,000 miles on it. Hardly broke-in for a vehicle of this vintage. It's a good runner but needs a little work." 

 

To, "Buy a newer vehicle, you idjit! You're just pourin' money down a rat hole with that rust bucket. I bet the frame needs patchin' too. Those '92 & '93 year Chevy's frames all suck! am I right? Am I right? You know, I'm right."

   "You shoulda just taken it to Kevin's in the first place, like Jackie said," as if the whole Wannaskan Almanac readership knew better than I did about fixin' my 32-year old pickup. 

 

   Turns out they did, per the addendum comment I tacked-on to my post, post-publication. For I gave up trying to muscle that new starter in, realizing that upon removal of the old starter I had gravity helping me extract it -- and on the new starter it hindered me greatly, its 20-lb payload wreaking havoc with not only my hand and wrist muscles but also my psyche as I tried reattaching the wiring first, then to accept I wasn't 400-percent sure which of the two opposite side terminals the small wire should be attached or if it made a grave difference; so, once again I called my mechanick-friend in Des Moines for advice.

 

   "You know you shoulda just taken the damn thing to Kevin's, dude! Your memory ain't worth shit. Dint you draw a picture or make note of it when you took it off? Good grief!"

 

   The wife heard that part of the conversation and doubled-down on that sentiment without reservation, as some wives or partners have a tendency to do trying to separate their association with you, with documentation: text, Facebook, Voicemail so when they come to cart you away they are vindicated of all responsibility. "Good grief YES!, YOU SHOULDA TOOK IT TO KEVIN'S. YOU'RE TOO OLD TO DO THIS STUFF!"

 

   I stared at the terminals, not believing I wouldn't have made a mental note about such a simple thing, for as I mentioned earlier this wasn't my first rodeo. I didn't just think, "WWJD?" (What would Joe Do?) To save us some money, I think I'll try changing the starter myself. No, I had done it before, a time or three. This time it was just being a b ...!

 

   A further break was in order. Sipping my coffee, I swiped through my pictures thinking of something else when I happened across this, greatly reassuring me (if no one else) that I had remembered to make note of the small wire's location.

A vertical view of the solenoid indicating the 9-oclock terminal was where the small wire went; the 6-oclock terminal, the positive wire never in question.

    Securing the wires, I tried turning the starter 180-degrees to approximate its re-entry in relationship to the flywheel, discovering that was not to be, with my spindly old guy matchstick-sized wrists and forearms. "Ain't goin' to happen." Much less attempting to shim the thing, a visual I could never mentally grasp from where I laid under the truck.

   Friend Jeff from Des Moines, suggested I acquire help from some local kid. "Must be a neighbor kid that'd help you, ain't there?" he said, in his colorful colloquial speech pattern sort of way. "How about Joe? Doesn't he have an auto mechanic's degree form Dumbwoodie Tech High School? He'd probably relish gettin' his hands dirty again for a few minutes to 'hep,' y'all" (Or words to that effect)

   I said, "He's a busy guy -- and if he ain't 'someone' makes him so; there's a reason he only weighs 9 stone one pound or thereabouts, and it ain't from dieting. He built himself a cabin now, back in the woods with a drawbridge and deep-ravine moat, as a so-called 'man cave,', so likely any time he ain't doing something productive he's not there as he'd be too easy to find. But, hey, you've got a good idea. This would be the last place 'someone' would look for him. Yes, this is a very good idea -- And, he'd fit under the pickup with room to spare! I'll call him."

 

   But I didn't, for my lack of muscle in my hands and arms at 74, in the tight confines under the truck, and the necessity of lifting the 20-pound starter to the base of the engine single-handedly until I could grab it with my left hand positioned around an overhead frame member, was just impossible; I felt justified having made the decision.

 

   I called Kevin, my mechanic, who laughed heartily in a good way, saying he'd 'been there, done that,' and yes, by all means get my truck to them asap. Then I called Austin Towing in Roseau.

   Wait, it's not the end of the story. So this week, August 4-6, we had our grandson here for a three-day basketball camp in Warroad. Austin had towed my pickup to Kevin's and I knew they'd get it into the shop as soon as possible. For reasons typical of myself and my relationship to my cellphone, I didn't get the phone call from home, but Ozaawaa did ...

   "Grandma called. She said Kevin needs to know where you bought that starter."

   "CRAP!" or words to that effect I may have said, my eyes rolling back into my head, my blood pressure skyrocketing. I began lamenting ever started that project and to top it off I had apparently purchased the wrong one ... ARGH! DOUBLE-TRIPLE ARGH!

 

   I attempted calling Kevin a couple times but couldn't reach him. I was in Warroad, 25-some miles east, so unable to just pop-in to talk to him in-person; I tried again a few minutes later. I had to leave a message, my whole demeanor damp to wet. On the fourth attempt he answered, and said, "You would've had a fun time trying to shim that starter; it was made wrong! Your truck is ready to go!"

 

  Kevin said the new starter was bad, so he got another one from the same auto parts store I had bought it, and that one worked, luckily, for substandard parts are far too often the norm. This is an excerpt from my June 2025 post, its link included below. It describes a similar problem a different Roseau County mechanic had.

 

   "Quickly ending his conversation, he walked to where I was opening the hood. I restarted the engine, running the AC. He saw the issue immediately; the AC clutch he had just put in, was bad. We could smell it. He acted disgusted. I cut him a break by explaining that I understood what he was going through as my Roseau mechanic has had many experiences over the years with substandard automobile parts he has been shipped. Combined with the unavailability of trained mechanics in this region, and a limited workforce of those who are, substandard automotive parts are a huge problem of downtime for them and their customers, as rework removing the bad parts from customer's vehicles, shipping or mailing them back, and waiting maybe for weeks, for their replacements."