With the title “Even to Save Cash, Don’t Try This Stuff at Home“, an article in Sunday’s NY Times reports that frugal consumers think they’ll save money doing their own repairs but wind up screwing things up worse. The photo above shows a jerry-rigged part a mechanic pulled from a car he had to correct.
“We open the hood and can tell the guy tried to do it himself with
cheap parts,” Mr. Tommasone said. “We see at least one a day like that.
At least. The No. 1 part replaced: the battery.”
I’m not sure how you can screw up the installation of a battery. Wrong polarization? Wrong size? Spilled acid? Sorry, but battery installation is one of the easiestthingstodo for car repair.
The articles comments are a great source of opposition against getting charged an arm and a leg for simple repairs, however:
I tend to have quite the opposite problem. Every time I pay to have
something done I wind up redoing it myself. New brakes squealed at
every stop. After three repeat visits to the shop failed to correct the
problem I did it myself – no more squeaks. The shop skimped on parts.
…
This is asinine. Plenty of people replace toilets or hang molding without doing serious damage to their homes.
…
The idea that only the professionals should handle simple jobs is what
is wrong with the USA (I am a flaming liberal, so no comments about me
being a right wing nut case). Yes, amateurs make mistakes, especially
the first time they try a job. They will get better at repairs as they
take on more jobs themselves. Even pros make mistakes, and some do
sloppy work.
…
Is this article proposing that we make money out of nothing “to do the
job right the first time?” We don’t have the money to spend on hair or
a handy-person anymore.
and
What is so difficult about replacing a car battery?
It’s been four months since the guys at Jalopnik rescued this ’75 242 and started a V8 conversion similar to their Black Metal V8olvo. The plan was to “make a super-sleeper drag car out of it.” How’s that working out for you guys?
This ad has been posted and pulled from YouTube before, so we’ll see how long it lasts. 45 seconds of crash-porn, showing old bricks being thrown, crushed and rolled to test for safety. The twist is that this is supposed to show how BAD those cars were, because drivers needed to push the brake pedal themselves. With “City Safety” your car will stop for you. Meh.
I just joined Vimeo and found this cool vid documenting a drive around Spokane Washington in a white ’88 245. It’s a nice, jerky time-lapse and shows two car washes over the span of about 1/2 hour. The first wash was touchless, so the second wash actually cleaned the car.
The Bailey’s “Fridge” looks pretty sweet. 5 speed manual, contemporary mags and clean white paint. Slick.
Jalopnik’s roving band of auto flaneurs always manages to find the oddest vehicular creations. This pickup-junk was a 244 stripped of its rear seat and the rear hatch of a wagon was morphed into the back window of the now two-seated… thing. Creative.
I’d wager that there are more Volvo 240 “Art Cars” than any other, with the obvious exception of VW Beetles. But BMW boasts the highest caliber of artists painting on factory fresh vehicles.
Grand Central Terminal recently had a display of the Absolut-Vodka-like series of painted Beemers from the 70′s until now, including the 320i pictured above, painted by my hero, the late Roy Lichtenstein.
You can see all the cars, and check out the huge painting created by Robin Rhode driving a Z4 through paint and over a 100×200 foot canvas.
I created an interactive how-to for changing the brake pads and rotors on a Volvo 240. Below is the step-by-step instructions. Consult a manual for more detail. I can’t be held responsible if you screw up and plow into your local 7-11 while stopping by for a 44oz Super Big Gulp of Cherry Coke.
GM announce the phaseout of Pontiac this week to stave off bankruptcy. I’ve had the pleasure and the discomfort to experience some old Pontiacs over the years.
My family cruised the suburbs of the ’70s in a golden ’68 LeMans. I remember the sun-absorbing black vinyl top and seats getting stiffling hot on our trips to the outer banks of North Carolina. One night in 1976, during the oil crisis, some asshole siphoned the leaded fuel from the tank and left us stranded the next morning. After 12 years of troubled maintenance it rested and rusted in front of our suburban home and my dad didn’t bother getting it fixed. I tried to convince him I could work on it myself, but at 12 years old I didn’t know a manifold from a mango. Amazing how that golden iron ride could rust to the point of evaporation in only 18 short years.
The angelic ’64 Bonneville pictured above belonged to my late friend Billy Greene, who fixed and tuned it for more than half of his short life. Throughout high school and beyond he babied its 6 barrel carburetor, snow-white paint and acres of chrome. The cavernous interior and trunk managed to fit 11 teenagers trying to save money driving into a local park. The exhaust rumbled a gorgeous bass tone at stop lights and the suspension floated smoothly when racing around the capital beltway at 120mph.
With the title “Even to Save Cash, Don’t Try This Stuff at Home“, an article in Sunday’s NY Times reports that frugal consumers think they’ll save money doing their own repairs but wind up screwing things up worse. The photo above shows a jerry-rigged part a mechanic pulled from a car he had to correct.
My family cruised the suburbs of the ’70s in a golden ’68 LeMans. I remember the sun-absorbing black vinyl top and seats getting stiffling hot on our trips to the outer banks of North Carolina. One night in 1976, during the oil crisis, some asshole siphoned the leaded fuel from the tank and left us stranded the next morning. After 12 years of troubled maintenance it rested and rusted in front of our suburban home and my dad didn’t bother getting it fixed. I tried to convince him I could work on it myself, but at 12 years old I didn’t know a manifold from a mango. Amazing how that golden iron ride could rust to the point of evaporation in only 18 short years.
