The Death and Resurrection of a '98 Honda

The Death and Resurrection of a '98 Honda

I guess I ought to give you a little background before jumping right into my blog for today. It'll help you visualize the playing field I hope.

My wife, my son and I all work different shifts, I work second shift from 4 pm to midnight, my wife works days from 8 am to 5 pm and my son works midnights from midnight (or 1 am, depending on the day) until 8 am. We all have our own cars that we use to get to work and back and for the other miscellaneous stuff you need a car for. And, as things are in the real world, one or another of the cars occasionally needs some maintenance – scheduled or unscheduled.

Since there are three cars, when one is in the shop we can always keep going by shifting cars, driving each others car to work and such as needed. In other words, there's usually a car sitting in the driveway to be used whenever we need one and a key to it hanging on a peg in the house.

That was the situation a few days ago. My car was in the shop for an air conditioning problem. Spring had finally sprung and it was getting warmer around home. Now was definitely the wrong time for the car's a/c to be cutting out and refusing to work.

Pretty much a no-no in hot weather.

So I had taken it to the mechanic's shop and told him to fix it.

As and aside, our mechanic is a gem! He'd been recommended to me by a friend some time ago and I'd noted his name but really didn't need him right then. Not too long afterward I started becoming disenchanted with my present mechanic at that time. He'd not followed through on several problems I'd had and I'd decided I was ready for a change.

I'd give my buddy's recommendation a shot.

We started going to the new guy for our oil changes and other needs and were always handled with courtesy, promptness and excellent prices. He'd even handled some major things well and we were very happy with him. We gave him all our business for all three cars.

So that brings us up to this past week.

My car was sitting in my mechanic's shop getting the a/c work done. I had taken my wife's car to work. I work in a city 25 miles from home, so it wasn't just around the block. I'd finished my shift at midnight and had gotten into the wife's car and headed home. I was just pulling out at a stoplight about 9 miles from work (and 16 miles from home) when the car began to display some, to me, horrifying attributes. It got tremendously loud and started bucking and chugging. Clank, clank, chugga-chugga-chugga, shudder, buck, buck, clank. It also began blinking the engine check light. Blinking, not just on.

I assumed that was worse.

I immediately pulled over into a parking lot, shut it down and starting thinking about my choices. My first thought was, I can call the wife and she can come up here and... Uh-oh! She was in bed, my son had taken the last available car – his – and had driven it to work. So, there was no help coming from her. No need to call and wake her up.

What to do, what to do?

I started the car again and listened. Yes, loud but it ran. I put it in gear and eased out into the street. It shuddered and bucked but kept moving down the street. Chugga-chugga, buck, buck, rumble. I was babying it along through the first of two villages I had to go through on the way home and doing OK. It sounded like the car was dying most of the time, but every minute I headed south I was closer to home.

Just keep going, I thought.

I had just gone through the second village when the flashing blue and red lights caught my attention in my rear view mirror. Great, I thought. Just what I need.

The officer lowered his head, looked in my window and said, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

I replied, “Probably the loud engine?”

He said, “Nope. Your license plate lights are out.”

“Sweet,” I said. “Just what I need tonight.” I then explained my ongoing predicament. He agreed that it sounded terrible, checked my license, registration and proof of insurance and then set me free with his wish for my good luck with the car. And to fix the license plate lights, of course.

I restarted the engine, gritted my teeth against the noise and vibrations and again headed toward home.

Rumble, rumble, buck, chug-chug-chug. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

I arrived home about a half-hour later than normal. When I got to the bedroom I saw that my wife was mostly awake, so I asked if she'd heard me come in. She replied that she thought it was the neighbor across the street who'd come home on his motorcycle. I told her that no, that unholy racket was her car! I then related the whole story of the trip home. I also mentioned that I was guessing that the car was quite possibly kaput.

The next morning I took her to work as I didn't want her trying to drive the amusement park ride that her car had become. She was also alarmed by it. When I got back home, I popped the hood and looked at the engine.

First off, I'm not a mechanic by any stretch of the imagination. Not at all. Nope, nope, nope. I can add fluids, change oil if I feel the urge, replace plugs, air filters, etc. Nothing major. And I normally would not notice what a problem was. I'd just stare at the engine and wonder, What the hell? But... This morning I could see the problem. The spark plug wire and the insulator doohicky that would normally extend down into the cylinder block and attach to the spark plug was laying on the valve cover. I gulped what I thought was the implication of what I was seeing and looked into the spark plug hole. In that gaping hole there was no spark plug, it was just an empty hole into the engine.

Uh-oh, I thought. This baby's toast!

And I believed it with all my heart.

I called my wife at work and related what I'd seen and asked her if she was ready for a new car. I really thought it was a goner.

I then called my mechanic and asked if he had my other car ready yet as I needed another car to go to work that coming night. When he asked why, I told him the evolving story. He said uh-huh at the appropriate times and then, when I thought he'd recommend my call to a junk yard, he said, “why don't you bring that booger over right now and I'll take a peek.”

He didn't even seem too upset!

I was still expecting the worst when I pulled into his driveway.

He came out and took a look under the hood. He nodded and hummed a bit. He then looked down and said, “Oh, there's your spark plug.” It was laying on one of the motor mounts. He examined it. It was broken. He said, “Broken spark plug. Hmm...”

I still was thinking doom and gloom.

He then did a quick tap of the spark plug hole to make sure the threads were still OK, slipped in a new plug, attached new spark plug wires for that plug and the other 3 and told me to fire it up.

I turned the key and... it worked! It worked fine! The car was still OK!

I thought I heard triumphal orchestral music and angelic voices singing hosannas for a moment, but I might have been mistaken.

I actually just shook my head and gave thanks that I had a good mechanic and he knew what he was doing. I shook his hand and acted the fool for a minute or two with my gratitude at his knowledge versus my ignorance, then headed back home. I called my wife and told her the good news and hoped she hadn't picked out a new car yet!

So it's now been a couple days and the D.O.A. car is still running as good as ever. And I'm still amazed at my complete ignorance of things automotive.

I've heard that there are only two things in life you can't escape. Death and taxes. I agree, of course. But I'd also like to add another adage for your existence on this planet.

Get yourself the following three things in life and you'll never have any problems.

A good doctor.

A good money manager.

And a good mechanic.

I'm lucky to have all three.

So, if you're looking for a good wrench man, give me a holler. He's a goooooood one!