Well, it cannot be all Politics, Conspiracy Theories (otherwise known as “Critical Thinking), or Corruption. Jep, I work as an auto mechanic. An old auto mechanic. I was not always an automobile mechanic by vocation, but that is a story for another time.
As Markus would say: “So it starts.” Jep, with a “simple service and inspection” on a 2016 FIAT Dobló. The old jokes, “Fix it again Tony,” or the German: “Fehler in allen Teilen.” (A fault in every part) are absolutely harmless with what the engineers foist on we, the lowly mechanics to work on for the crumbs of our daily bread.
So back to the game. Where is the oil filter?
After removing the “bib” under the FIAT (Fecking idiot Arscheloch Technologie) Jesus-mother-Fording-FIAT. Twelve fasteners, six with a Phillips head, two with a M8 allen-head, two with the 10 mm hex-head, and two with an 8 mm hex-head, and I was able to get to the drain plug. BUT WHERE IN THE FIAT IS THE OIL FILTER?
Ah, look closely grasshopper. I can see the object of my frustration.
OK. There were still a few “diverse” fasteners to remove.
Well, found, loosened, and with only 3 mm of space, the oil filter was removed, but not without spewing stinking black spooge like a hacked-up Thern. Thern? Well Grasshopper, that is a reference to the adventures of John Carter. Who? Crikey. Edgar Rice Burroughs, “The Princess of Mars.” “The Gods of Mars” to be exact.
Jep. That was the game for the day, and I not only got it done, but walked (limped) away.
I took a peak at the work for tomorrow. (Actually, already done). OH, JOY OF JOYS!! A timing belt on a Mitsubishi Chrysler.
Please, oh, please. Give me a set of SU’s…and dual points.
Oh, yes. Just what the Doctor ordered. “Doctor? I think I need more Nitrous. Sorry, kid, the rings are not gapped for more. <<sigh>>