What's Your Biggest Repair Blunder?
We'd love to hear your biggest auto repair blunder. Don't be shy, we've all been there. I'll start things off with one of my earliest and potentially most embarrassing episodes:
Years ago I was dating a girl, she was a bartender/photographer/filmmaker. I've never been the type to decoupage a little jewelry box for girlfriends, but when she went out of town one weekend I wanted to do something nice, a nice practical surprise for her. So I decided I'd change the oil on her pumpkin-colored VW Golf. Please don't start firing off emails about how un-romantic that is - I've come a long way since then. Anyway, I gathered up my tools and headed over to her place. She parked on the street so I had to do the job curbside, making sure my legs weren't sticking out into traffic. The oil drain plug on that car is right on the bottom of the oil pan, nice and easy to get to. I shimmied underneath with my 3/4-inch drive and got to work, but the plug was really on there tight. I'd never seen one so tight, but who knows when the oil was last changed, so I took the hollow handle off of my floor jack, slid it over the end of the wrench for more leverage and gave it a good pull. Finally it broke loose and started to spin freely with black oil oozing slowly out. After about 75 turns of the wrench I started to worry.
Fearing the worst, I called my buddy at the shop, and he informed me that oil drain plugs are sometimes reverse-threaded. I'd turned those threads into mush, and now the plug was never coming out.
What started out as a 30-minute brownie point venture turned into a 4-hour ordeal as I rushed to the parts store for an entire new oil pan, removed the 23 bolts that hold it on, re-gasketed it, re-torqued 23 bolts and did the rest of the original oil change job! There's nothing like laying underneath an oily car with a flashlight at 3 o'clock in the morning!
Tell us your biggest repair blunder!
Post it here or shoot me an email at autorepair.guide@about.com and we'll have some fun laughing at each other!
Comments
You used a 3/4 inch drive ratchet to take out the drain plug?
My biggest screwup was on a 1990 Saturn. I was also going to change the oil, but the filter bouldn’t budge. I used the screwdriver through the filter method and soon saw reddish fluid running out. That was my first experience with spin on transmission filters.
Of course I didn’t have another and my wife wasn’t home. I had the pleasure of walking 2 miles to Autozone and 2 miles back in the heat of the North Carolina summer. Then I still had to change the oil.
Biggest blunder was the first time I tried to jack up my first car (an ‘82 Reliant) and did not know about jacking points. I knew enough to use jackstands, but I used the spare-tire I put the jackstand under the sheetmetal just behind the tab for the jack. Luckily for my body, I discovered the problem as the sheetmetal started to bend, before I crawled under the car. Luckily for my ego, the rather interesting-looking dent was under the rocker panel where no one could see it.
And then there was the first time I jacked up my first rear-drive car, a ‘71 Duster, I think for a tire change. I did it at a friend’s house, a former mechanic, because he had a nice big floor jack. He actually pulled out a lawn chair and an iced tea to watch. Wary of my Reliant experience, he watched as I carefully positioned the jack, asked nine times if it was in the right spot, gingerly raised the Duster’s left-front paw, then put the four-way jack on the first lug nut… and spun the wheel ’round and ’round. And I’d been wondering why my friend was sniggering in his tea. “Why didn’t you tell me I had to loosen the lug nuts before I jacked up the car???” “Because that’s the one thing you didn’t ask,” he said.
In a little too deep.
One of my first blunders involved a flywheel/clutch replacement on my “new
to me” 1968 Chevrolet El Camino. This was in 1975. I was 17 and having
extensive experience rebuilding a 65 Mustang 3 speed manual trans in about
four not so not so easy tries the year before I thought replacing this
flywheel due to broken teeth on the ring gear would be a breeze. Little did
I know that OEM means that some parts on different cars that look the same
may not be.
I went ahead and pulled the ‘Camino up on ramps and dropped the drive shaft
and 3 speed transmission. In no time I had the clutch and flywheel out and
took the flywheel to the large auto parts salvage yard to get another
matching flywheel with all good ring gear teeth. I had priced a new one at
the Chevy dealer but had limited cash and decided to go the used parts route
for the flywheel. This salvage yard disassembles everything so I was
directed to a pile of flywheels in the warehouse. Digging through them with
mine for reference I found a perfect match. Identical down to the mold
markings. Gave the salvage yard a fraction of the dealer’s new price and
headed for the machine shop to have it resurfaced ready for the new clutch
and installation. The resurfaced flywheel looked great and other than the
rusty bolt holes it looked like a new one. I installed it and then the new
clutch. I noticed the rust seemed to hamper the pressure plate installation
but with a little WD40 the bolts screwed on in. Backing it off the ramps was
fine but a trip around the block revealed less and less success shifting
gears without grinding. By the time I returned to the ramps the clutch was
hardly disengaging at all. I dis-assembled and found the bolts had back out
of the flywheel for the pressure plate. I retighten them only to have this
happen again and again. Monday I called the Chevy service department and
they said the clutch fork requires a special tool and may need adjusting and
they would be happy to do that for $30. I retighten the bolts again and
limped the car there and they called me that afternoon stumped. I told them
all I had done and they later called back after all the mechanics communed
under the car and decided that the flywheel I had gotten was by the same
manufacturer but had metric treads in it for the bolts. The parts department
had also been involved solving the mystery and they offered to supply the
new correct flywheel for me at cost. The service department only charged me
for a standard clutch inspection of $50 even though the whole department
had spend hours on the diagnosis. I only had to pay them $115. I took the
wrong flywheel back to the salvage yard for a refund. I lost the cost to
resurface that flywheel but I am grateful to this day to that great group of
guys that really help out a shade tree mechanic / high schooled student.
I did purchase several new cars from that dealership after I got out on my
own. I would still do business with them if I did not live so far away now.
I was replacing the timing chain on a 64 Buick Riviera (I was 18 and was only doing it myself because I couldn’t afford to take it anywhere). I broke several bolts taking it apart and had to purchase new ones. I didn’t realize the new ones were just a little longer than the old ones. I got it all back together (the day before I left for college) and “click”, it would not turn over. My dad offered to buy it for $200, SOLD!
He later called me at school, after having the engine torn down. I had driven the longer bolts through the block and into the first piston, locking up the engine. They had to re-weld the block.
My last attempt at major auto repair.
As a single woman who hates the thought of getting work done on my car, I would be very deeply touched by a man who surprised me with any kind of car repair or maintenance, even if he got in over his head! It really is the thought that counts!
My blunder. I need to remove my wifes harmonic balancer on her 1995 Pontiac Transport 3.8l engine. I had the correct tool, but the puller screw was too short even when it was all the way screwed in. I needed to make up the difference. I used a socket to make up for the extra length. The balancer came off, but the socket was now wedged in the bolt hole. Now we have a van that useless because no belt or anything else can go back on it.v It was down 2 weeks. Finally some body came over and welded the end of a slide hammer to the socket. Then they finally pulled it out.
That was a lot of work for a $3.00 oil seal. Next day I bought a different Harmonic puller tool.
As the son of an active service member, I had access to the local auto
garage on the base. We could use the lifts and their tools to do just
about any auto repair. Sweet deal.
I needed to replace the rusted, (and loud!) exhaust pipe from the
catalytic converter back to the end on my ‘77 Chevy Concours.
I got all new piping but didn’t think it was worth spending an extra $3
to get replacement U-bolts and the nuts.
I spent way too long trying to figure out how to get the frozen (welded)
bolts off the car without damaging them. Ended up tying wire around the
part so I could get it home.
I made it about 2 miles before the pipe separated and dug into the road
while I was driving about 25 mph.
The noise was incredible! I thought the car had blown up! I’m sure it
was a miracle that something didn’t puncture the gas tank.
These days, I will spend way too much to get a job done. I’ll buy
anything if I think I might need it, no matter how remote the chance.
All for being too cheap to spend an extra $3.
Dave
Orlando, Florida
I forgot to put the oil drain plug back in before I put in 5 quarts of fresh oil; what a mess. I certainly was not feeling very lucky which is the name of my website.
Doug
I was 18 years old and attempting to replace my first waterpump on a 1970 Hillman Hunter. After removing the bolts I was having a devil of a time pulling the water pump, but using screw drivers as pry bars and a heavy dose of testosterone to make up for my lack of common sense it came off with a loud crack, on closer inspection I discovered that I had missed one hidden bolt close to the center of the casting. I guess I should have looked at the new water pump first
Two incidents come to mind:
First: Age 15, 2nd day of High School auto shop, the instructor had us change the oil on a car. I drained it, and changed the oil filter. The oil was in bulk and we used a 5-quart container with a flip-down spout, so all 5 quarts went into the engine at once. And then out the drain hole and spreading across the shop floor. I’d left out the plug!
Second flub, much more expsnsive. 6-cylinder Toyota LandCruiser turbo diesel, the turbo was getting worn. Yanked it, sent it for a rebuild, $800 later it came back in the box. New compressor wheel, new bearings, new housing, etc. etc. It was protected with plastic plugs stuck into the oil holes. I installed it a week later, and after buttoning everything up, took it for a test drive. I got about 1 mile when it started howling. I limped it back home, and by then it was really howling. Yanked it again (big job on this truck), and when I removed the oil supply pipe, there were the plastic plugs that I’d left in! So my fresh turbo got toasted from lack of oil.
Not a blunder that I made, but one, in the UK, that resulted in considerable damage to my brother’s car. All that he had requested, of the service garage concerned, was to have a full service on his car, and for the timing belt to be changed as a preventative measure. The car was serviced, my brother called to collect the car, and pay for the work carried out.
The mechanic concerned showed my brother his car, and said that he would start the car and drive it out of the service area. As my brother watched, the mechanic attempted to start the engine, but it was only in doing so that he found two major errors that he had made, and witnessed by my brother. The engine timing belt was not corrected positioned, and the engine had been overfilled with engine oil. One horrible noise emanated from the engine as the piston heads and all but one of sixteen valves collided with the pistons, and as the bonnet, or rather hood as it is called in the USA was lifted, the excess engine oil was plastered all over the engine bay. One engine destroyed, and one car no longer fit for use.
The mechanic lost his job, the garage manager accepted full liability, and two weeks of work to repair all the damage, provide a courtesy car, pay compensation, etc., resulted.
Why or why did the mechanic decide to check the replaced timing belt by trying to start the engine, it defeats me as it defies all logic?
Andrew Porter — Hitchin, England
This is a practical joke that I was involved in that I have still not lived down.My husband worked at a junkyard when I was 20 years old.We all were friends at this yard.I used to bring lunch for the guys on Fridays,I still not quite sure how my husband got me volunteered for that.Anyways one Friday when I brought some homade chili for lunch to them.They asked me if I would help them out,which was not uncommon for smaller jobs.They said a customer needed a radiator out of the VW Beetle out back and asked if I would go pull it for them while they ate.They had this planned all morning.My husband told me his tool box was right there by it on the forklift.So I walk out there and looked in the back I looked under the hood thinking maybe by chance it would be there.Still everywhere I looked no radiator.I did not want to look like an idiot so I did not go ask the guys where it was.I stayed out there for an hour trying to figure out where it could be.Finally after an hour I walked back to the break room to tell them I could not find it.Everybody was laughing.That is when I learned a VW Beetle does not have a radiator! Needless to say I did not bring them lunch on Fridays for amonth after that. My husband and I both work in a garage now and I have much more knowledge now. Everytime I need to go back to that junkyard after 10 years 2 of the guys still work there they ask me if I’ve worked on any VW Beetles lately.
My biggest blunder in over 40 years of doing all my own work on my stable of cars (currently own 7 vehicles) happened a couple years ago. I replaced the rusty steel brake lines which run from master cylinder to the rear of my 1995 Ford Escort with 165,000 miles. One of the brackets which the brake and fuel lines attach to the underbody was dangling in mid air. Rust had taken its toll.
I said to myself, no problem, I can fabricate a patch, MIG weld it to the body, and drill and tap new threads for the bracket mounting screw.
Aware that welding heat can get intense, I started welding the patch on, and every couple inches of weld bead, I put a wet rag against the weld bead. After a few minutes, I crawled out from under the car and opened the door and felt the surface of the footwell carpeting with my hand to be sure I wasn’t getting things too hot. Did this several times, but apparently one time too few.
While finishing up the welding, I smelled smoke, and whizzed the creeper out from under the car. I whipped my welding helmet from my head and noticed to my horror the passenger compartment was filled with dense smoke. You couldn’t see through the windows to the other side of the car. Opened the rear door on driver’s side, and saw three inch high flames burst out in the footwell next to the doorsill.
Fortunately, whenever I weld in the garage, I always have a ten pound CO2 extinguisher handy. Got the fire out in a jiffy. Guess what, Murphy’s Law was working. The main front-to-rear wiring harness was a charred, molten mess of plastic insulation. Half of the lights and other electrical functions fed by that harness were no longer working. I was so disgusted with myself, I didn’t look at the car for several days. I was kicking myself around the county because I’d just turned a reliable, economical car worth perhaps $2000 into a hundred dollar parts car.
A few weeks went by, and I couldn’t bear to part with this car which gets almost 40 mpg. Fortunately, it’s a common car and at a boneyard, I found plastic replacement parts for the trim which I’d melted, plus most importantly, a wiring harness. I was happy to pay the guy 50 bucks for everything. Many hours and about 60 solder connections later, the car was back to where I’d started. All lights, fuel gauge, etc. were once again working.
Next time I have any welding to do underneath a vehicle, I’ll have my wife sit inside with a book, an extinguisher and a Bloody Mary to keep an eye on how hot I get things.