Parking lot brake job contest

 

I don't know who was sponsoring this event, but it may have been Butte College Automotive department. It was the kind of thing they were likely to do as a promotion or recruiting technique. It was an all ages, open to the public contest to generate business for the local shops and to see who, in all the land, was the fastest. The winner would get a job at one of the repair shops in the area.

I pulled a couple of cars, grabbed a student or two and got to work racking the cars. I had to leave instructions for my teammates: how to rack the car, what to check, etc. They seemed like they had it under control, so I left them to it. Theirs was the easier of the two cars anyway. It was a 98 Civic, the most notoriously simple car to work on that has ever existed.

Meanwhile, I'd drawn a massive SUV, a Ford Expedition or some such beast. I had a devil of a time getting it lined up on the drive-on rack that seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere at the curbside parking spot. I would get one side directly under the lifting point but would find it didn't match up on the other side, as the car would roll back each time I walked around it. The flip up pneumatic arms of the rack could easily dent the body or crush sensitive components if not positioned properly. In real life, I've found this out the hard way, so I took my time and made sure it didn't occur in my dreams as well.

After losing much precious time, I finally got the car lifted and got to work replacing the front brake pads. I struggled to find the right tools. First, I kept grabbing crow's foot adapters for a 3/8 ratchet. Inappropriate.  I knew that there had to be a better setup, which there was, of course. A 3/8 cordless impact driver would have made short work of it. 

Greg Kioski, my stepdad, was there and tried to help using his plastic Mac Tools ratchet. It kept falling apart on him, so I recommended using some actual metal tools on the car. He kept pulling out sockets with 1/4 drives, which wouldn't cut it for this application. I told him to stand aside and I would handle it.

I was all over the car like a kid on the monkey bars. I'd finally gotten the brake pads changed out, not sure how, exactly. Now, I just had to finish my notes and do a quick vehicle inspection. This would be purely gravy, I thought, future upsales and the like.

Unfortunately, I found what looked like brake fluid dripping from the axle boot  onto the rack. I popped open the hood and found that the car had a massive oil stream coming from the valve cover, which left a trail of oil all down  the front of the engine and spread in all directions, getting oil on everything, including the brake calipers and on every other component under the hood. 

Simply documenting this was costing me valuable time,which would have been better spent upselling some rear brakes. I wasn't winning any contests today. I shined the rear brake inspection, though I could just tell the pads needed replacement. 

My team members brought me a slinky-like spring, holding it out with confused looks on their faces. I explained to them that it was an extra part, included in most kits, though it was an anachronism, only applicable to certain older vehicles. I instructed them to chuck it and move on. I was still in the running, due to my triage style of cutting corners. This wasn't going to win me points with the judges, but I might come in higher than dead last, time-wise. 

That's about it. I'm awake now and it's way earlier than I'd like. At least it wasn't a Yuba City Honda dream. I'm working my way backwards, I guess, Butte College being the starting point of my dead automotive career.