My First “Repair”

by Thomas Greco, Publisher

If you know anything about me after all these years, it’s that when it comes to having anything to do with fixing things, I am the last person to look to.

Especially when it comes to vehicles. Yes, as you know, my motto for 40 years has been, “I can’t fix a tire, but I can write about fixing one.” Sadly, that still holds true. However, after four decades, there may be a glimmer of light.

A few months ago, the lease was up on the Tahoe from hell (the diesel truck that seemed jinxed from the moment I leased it). Now, after so many years of driving, all I wanted was a vehicle that had a great stereo and also saved me money. I absolutely wanted another (non-diesel) Tahoe, but they – and every other truck that size – were just too damn expensive. I wanted to spend less per month, not more. So I called a dealer friend of mine and told him I was looking for a truck similar to the Tahoe, but I wanted to spend at least $100 a month less. After he laughed at me for a good 10 minutes, he said he’d see what he could do. 

He came back to me with a Dodge Durango and something called a Jeep Grand Cherokee Trailhawk. I test drove both, and frankly, I didn’t like either of them. After having a couple of Tahoes and Ford Expeditions, I was spoiled. I liked my big trucks. I felt safe and comfortable. (Or maybe I was just overcompensating! LOL) But post-Covid, life is different, and there was no way of getting around the price differences. 

I decided to go with the Trailhawk. (I mean, maybe I spent a day thinking about it? When you settle, you don’t waste time.) But that’s not the best part. Again, getting back to my lack of skills, not only did I switch from diesel back to regular gas: the Trailhawk was actually a hybrid! I am not a glutton for punishment; I am the Goodyear Blimp of punishment. 

The kid who walked me through the process did his best. Trouble was, I forgot everything the minute I pulled onto Route 4. By the time I hit the Garden State Parkway, the car sounded like it was grinding its gears to the bone, and it wouldn’t let me go above 40mph. There I was, rush hour on the Parkway, trying to figure out what the hell was going on while frantically calling the dealership (they closed five minutes after I left) and “MFing” the world. Thankfully, I made it home and brought the car back the next day. Turns out there’s these stupid gears on the steering console that when you accidentally hit them automatically puts the car into some lower gear. What f#$king genius thought of that?! The kid showed me how to put it back in gear, and I was relieved I hadn’t destroyed the car less than an hour after I leased it. 

Of course, it took me a few weeks to get the hybrid thing down. Now that I’ve learned how to be like a gas station attendant and plug it in every night, it’s been pretty good. (I get the urge to say “fill ‘er up” every time, though.) I still miss the Tahoe. 

But back to my skills! A few weeks ago, the windshield wiper fluid light came on. Great. You all know damn well that I’ve never done that, either. But I was determined to do it this time! I headed to Home Depot like a big shot all ready to grab that container, fly through self checkout and pour that blue shit in. 

Home Depot didn’t have any washer fluid. 

Here we go…

Next stop, Pep Boys. 

Again, I strutted in, and without even asking anyone, I found that container, grabbed it off the shelf, paid for it and set sail for my driveway. 

Once home, I went to pop the hood. Hmmm. Now, where can that switch be? It wasn’t on the dash. It wasn’t overhead. Then I remembered: When I put gas in the car the first time, it took me 15 minutes to find the button that opened the gas tank. (On Tahoes and Expeditions, the attendant just pressed the damn door, and it would open!) Wouldn’t you know it, the hood opener was right over there. I pulled on it, and “POP!” It actually opened. I was on my way! 

I jumped out of the car and went over to the hood. Hmmm. I remembered that there was something important somewhere under the hood, so I stuck my hand in there. (…this IS a car we’re talking about, right?) Unlike other experiences, all I came out of there with was a scratched, greasy, black hand. And the hood only opened about two inches. Again the “MFs” flew, but I was determined. I went back in and finally found it. Boom. The hood popped open. I was orgasmic! (Wait…this IS a car we’re talking about, right?)

Unfortunately for me, under the hood were three or four of those plastic container-looking things. I just knew I was going to put the fluid in the wrong one. But then I saw it! The same image that was on the dashboard light! BINGO! I ripped that top off and started to pour. 

After a few seconds, I had to stop. I was spilling more than I was filling. Then I did another thing that probably made hell freeze over: I went into my garage and looked for a tool. I knew someone had put a funnel in there (must have been the previous owner), and there it was on the shelf, along with bottles and cans of stuff that OSHA probably outlawed in the ’80s. I grabbed it, put it in the container and emptied the fluid into it. 

I skipped over to the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. When I saw that warning light out, I felt like I just had my third kid. I actually completed my first “repair” on a vehicle! Sure, it was not changing a tire, but it was an achievement! 

And here I am, writing about it. 

At least I don’t have to worry about diesel anymore. Just electricity. And gears. 

Maybe I’ll rent a bike.

Want more? Check out the July 2024 issue of New Jersey Automotive!