I'd like to share a recent experience with you to see whether it is just me, or whether others are affliced by this ham-fisted oafishness when working on their cars.
Since about 2003 I haven't really serviced or worked on my own cars much, that was the point where I started having Modern, and latterly Company cars and a combination of laziness, wanting to maintain a service history and the fact that they simply didn't break that often took over. Howver, prior to this I was out every weekend tinkering around, even to this day I am always first to volunteer like an excited child if any of my friends are working on anything car related, anything with an engine and I am most definitely 'in'. So I am not a novice, I am not expert "Haynes manual level 5 spanners" but I am pretty a confident 4, I have done engine swaps, rebuilds, gearboxes, clutches, head gaskets, timing belts\chains and even a complete nut and bolt restoration on a VW beetle. Yet whilst able to undertake reasonably complex tasks without too much issue, whenever I attempt simple, routine maintenance I somehow manage to turn it into a comedy of errors resembling something out of a Benny Hill sketch
So, having recently acquired another old car, I am starting to get back into it, I actually look forward to doing things, the feeling of fixing something yourself is hard to beat, its addictive, once you've fixed one thing, you want to fix lots of things. Quite apart from that, it saves you money, so you feel 'up' financially too "My God if I had paid a garage to do that job it would have cost me £150, so now I have £150 to spend on something else" is how my logic generally goes
Anyway, this new found enthusiasm for DIY mechanicing led me to service my 'Daily' I won't bore you with what it is (because its not in any way to be considered retro) but its now old enough that service stamps and garage receipts aren't really going to affect resale and, in all honesty, I have no intention of selling it for a long time anyway. So I popped down to Ford and picked up the necessary bits and bobs and scheduled it in for the weekend, I mean, an oil and filter change right, thats well within my sphere of ability!
I'd elected to do it at my mums house (this would later prove to be fortuitous in more ways than one) partly because there is more room but mostly because my tools are there. I've jacked the front end up to give me easier access and, thinking I was going to get ahead of the game, tried to undo the oil filter first. Why? Well, I wasn't going to be in that trap where I had run the engine up to temperature to thin out the oil but then couldn't undo the oil filter and couldn't grip it properly because it was melting my skin off, so the cunning plan was to make sure I can undo it - tighten up again - run engine to temperature - drain oil - change filter - refill - Profit. Nothing can really go wrong here.
So I grab the filter and twist with all of my might, but I cannot budge it, not even a little bit. Slightly annoyed (but not entirtely surprised because it had previously been put on by a garage) I consider options - Text mates for the loan of an oil filter wrench, or get stronger immediately. I try option two a couple of times, thinking the building rage at being defeated by such a simple operation will help me move it, but no. I text my good friend about a loan of his oil filter wrench, go and fetch it in my mums car and crack on. You have probably seen the type, its like a claw and you slot it over the filter, it grips it and then you undo it with a spanner. So I put the wrench on and boy does it take some force to move it, no wonder I couldn't undo it by hand! But eventually it undoes, I nip it up again by hand and fire up the car to run it to temperature.
By this point it's spitting with rain, so i'd opened the door, turned the key and then closed it, I then stood in the porch infront of the car, satisfied, smug even, that I had prevailed over the rogue oil filter. This is where things take a turn for the worse. I notice a steadily growing pool of oil emerging from underneath, what the? Have I not done it up tight enough, I dive (dove?) underneath to check, what has actually happened is having used so much force to undo the filter with the 'claw' I had punctured it, not massively so as you'd notice it, but a pin hole that was nevertheless allowing oil to escape at a reasonable rate. I leap to my feet, dash round to the drivers door to turn the engine off immediately...what the f@#*, the door is locked! "This seriously cannot be effing happening!"
What had happened, I quickly realised, was that being jacked up, the wheel slightly off the ground and the engine running, drag in the gearbox was causing that wheel to turn, this made the car think it was driving away and activated the "lock you in" feature, so now its running, its locked, my keys are in the ignition and its haemorrhaging oil all over the floor. I haven't even got the bonnet open, because earlier when I had to abandon to go and fetch the oil filter wrench i'd shut it again.
Luckily, and this is why doing it at my mums turned out to be fortuitous, thats where I keep my spare key, and even more fortuitous than that, the spare key was exactly where I expected it to be, which if you know my mother is unusual. While she will swear absolutely blind that she never moves anything, it was entirely likely that the day before I needed it for the very first time, she'd have had a spring clean and decided the draw that spare keys have been kept in for the last 35 years is no longer suitable and moved them location so secret an FBI manhunt would fail to uncogver them.
So not EVERYTHING was against me, I managed to shut it down before it ran too low, without having to put a brick through the window. Then I did the rest of the oil change, rolled the car back and spent a further hour cleaning the exxon valdez sized oil slick off her drive.
Total time taken, about 5 hours.
Since about 2003 I haven't really serviced or worked on my own cars much, that was the point where I started having Modern, and latterly Company cars and a combination of laziness, wanting to maintain a service history and the fact that they simply didn't break that often took over. Howver, prior to this I was out every weekend tinkering around, even to this day I am always first to volunteer like an excited child if any of my friends are working on anything car related, anything with an engine and I am most definitely 'in'. So I am not a novice, I am not expert "Haynes manual level 5 spanners" but I am pretty a confident 4, I have done engine swaps, rebuilds, gearboxes, clutches, head gaskets, timing belts\chains and even a complete nut and bolt restoration on a VW beetle. Yet whilst able to undertake reasonably complex tasks without too much issue, whenever I attempt simple, routine maintenance I somehow manage to turn it into a comedy of errors resembling something out of a Benny Hill sketch
So, having recently acquired another old car, I am starting to get back into it, I actually look forward to doing things, the feeling of fixing something yourself is hard to beat, its addictive, once you've fixed one thing, you want to fix lots of things. Quite apart from that, it saves you money, so you feel 'up' financially too "My God if I had paid a garage to do that job it would have cost me £150, so now I have £150 to spend on something else" is how my logic generally goes
Anyway, this new found enthusiasm for DIY mechanicing led me to service my 'Daily' I won't bore you with what it is (because its not in any way to be considered retro) but its now old enough that service stamps and garage receipts aren't really going to affect resale and, in all honesty, I have no intention of selling it for a long time anyway. So I popped down to Ford and picked up the necessary bits and bobs and scheduled it in for the weekend, I mean, an oil and filter change right, thats well within my sphere of ability!
I'd elected to do it at my mums house (this would later prove to be fortuitous in more ways than one) partly because there is more room but mostly because my tools are there. I've jacked the front end up to give me easier access and, thinking I was going to get ahead of the game, tried to undo the oil filter first. Why? Well, I wasn't going to be in that trap where I had run the engine up to temperature to thin out the oil but then couldn't undo the oil filter and couldn't grip it properly because it was melting my skin off, so the cunning plan was to make sure I can undo it - tighten up again - run engine to temperature - drain oil - change filter - refill - Profit. Nothing can really go wrong here.
So I grab the filter and twist with all of my might, but I cannot budge it, not even a little bit. Slightly annoyed (but not entirtely surprised because it had previously been put on by a garage) I consider options - Text mates for the loan of an oil filter wrench, or get stronger immediately. I try option two a couple of times, thinking the building rage at being defeated by such a simple operation will help me move it, but no. I text my good friend about a loan of his oil filter wrench, go and fetch it in my mums car and crack on. You have probably seen the type, its like a claw and you slot it over the filter, it grips it and then you undo it with a spanner. So I put the wrench on and boy does it take some force to move it, no wonder I couldn't undo it by hand! But eventually it undoes, I nip it up again by hand and fire up the car to run it to temperature.
By this point it's spitting with rain, so i'd opened the door, turned the key and then closed it, I then stood in the porch infront of the car, satisfied, smug even, that I had prevailed over the rogue oil filter. This is where things take a turn for the worse. I notice a steadily growing pool of oil emerging from underneath, what the? Have I not done it up tight enough, I dive (dove?) underneath to check, what has actually happened is having used so much force to undo the filter with the 'claw' I had punctured it, not massively so as you'd notice it, but a pin hole that was nevertheless allowing oil to escape at a reasonable rate. I leap to my feet, dash round to the drivers door to turn the engine off immediately...what the f@#*, the door is locked! "This seriously cannot be effing happening!"
What had happened, I quickly realised, was that being jacked up, the wheel slightly off the ground and the engine running, drag in the gearbox was causing that wheel to turn, this made the car think it was driving away and activated the "lock you in" feature, so now its running, its locked, my keys are in the ignition and its haemorrhaging oil all over the floor. I haven't even got the bonnet open, because earlier when I had to abandon to go and fetch the oil filter wrench i'd shut it again.
Luckily, and this is why doing it at my mums turned out to be fortuitous, thats where I keep my spare key, and even more fortuitous than that, the spare key was exactly where I expected it to be, which if you know my mother is unusual. While she will swear absolutely blind that she never moves anything, it was entirely likely that the day before I needed it for the very first time, she'd have had a spring clean and decided the draw that spare keys have been kept in for the last 35 years is no longer suitable and moved them location so secret an FBI manhunt would fail to uncogver them.
So not EVERYTHING was against me, I managed to shut it down before it ran too low, without having to put a brick through the window. Then I did the rest of the oil change, rolled the car back and spent a further hour cleaning the exxon valdez sized oil slick off her drive.
Total time taken, about 5 hours.
I got ran over by my MGB once which is daftest thing I've ever done. Luckily it knocked me flat on my backside, my legs went under and I caught the back bumper with my hands at chest height, managed to get one leg up and wedge it lock style with my knee (massive bruise later), and clawed for an extension bar to use to drag something to chock the wheels. That was embarrassing! 
