Learning The Hard Way, As Always

So, here’s the thing, I’ve been saying that I want to be a better mechanic for years. And I mean it… I do. I was just kind of picturing it in my head as this, ah, a leisurely scenario… you know, where I have all of this free time in my life, and one afternoon I get bored and do a little “maintenance” on my truck AND THERE YOU HAVE IT. The next thing I know I’m a master mechanic.

Right?

Ha. Yes. That is exactly how life works.

Except for that part where my truck dies. (Not just “mostly dead”– there was no version of reality where Miracle Max and a pair of jumper cables could bring it back to life– oh no, this truck was all the way dead.) And I’m going to be honest here… I basically ignored my all-the-way-dead truck for the last three weeks. I just could not deal. Well, right up until I realized I needed to pick up 9 sheets of plywood before this Friday, and I’m going to need a good 40 bales of hay to feed my donkeys in the next couple of weeks and, oh. Wait. My truck is all-the-way-dead.

So. I guess I need to fix it.

By the time I fully resigned myself to that it was dark, and raining, and 50-degrees out, and I was pretty exhausted from doing a workout earlier in the day (which is why I’m doing this in spandex.) And also, there may have been some wine involved…

 

Because I am fearless about fixing trucks when there is wine involved, apparently.

So my truck is a ’95 F250 Diesel which means it has two batteries. (Of course it does.) And one of those batteries was like, “oh, you want to remove me from the truck? Okay, nbd.” It took five minutes, and as you can imagine I was feeling pretty smug about my mechanical skills at this point.  And then… well. Then there was a whole period of time that involved liquid wrench and three bloody knuckles and the rest of a bottle of wine and all the swear words I know.

I still cannot make a fist with my right hand because I strained something in my arm trying to get the corroded bolts on the second battery undone. (Also I look way more ripped in this picture than in real life, that’s the wine, obviously, but also, two years of lifting weights has not hurt my ability to get some shit done around the farm.)

Oh, and…

I WON.

Not just in getting the old batteries out, but in getting the new ones in and hooked up…

That is genuine excitement and relief in my voice.

As for why the truck died in the first place… honestly, the batteries have been in bad shape for a while (and clearly hadn’t been replaced at the same time previously) so my best guess right now is either the old electric brake that was tied in to one of the batteries and definitely draining some juice (and has since been removed) was causing the problem, otherwise I know there’s an issue on these old Ford trucks with cables fraying (inside the casing) on the starter.

Either way, I had a small victory tonight that I sure hope will continue in the morning. And, like so many other things on the farm it was a lesson learned the hard way. Turns out there’s no “leisurely” learning out here, just a lot of hard work and problem solving out of necessity, and a pretty awesome feeling of accomplishment when all is said and done.