Adventures in scrap hauling – the revenge of the damned.
This morning about 30 minutes before my alarm went off (after 4 hours of sleep) the guy who I met yesterday called. I hit ignore and concentrated on the back of my eyelids again. Never did go back to sleep.
I started a cup and gave him a call. No answer.
So I got ready to go out. While I was tying my shoes Diesel came in the living room and kept sticking his nose in my face. I told him to lay down and he spritzed a little bit on the floor. He had to pee realllly bad. I hobbled to the door in one shoe and let him out. I think the poor guy peed 14 gallons on the tree in the front yard.
Once I got outside I called the guy again. No answer.
I hopped in Christine and rode down to my friends house to borrow his truck. His big Ford was not happy about having to get up so early. He didn't think it was going to start. But it finally did. I put Christine on the little tow bar and pulled her back to the house. Then I called the guy again. No answer.
I got the tow dolly hooked up and got all my straps and tools that I thought I might need and headed out. I stopped by his house and he wasn't there.
The gar I was going to pick up in Hickory was another repo that had been dropped at a car lot to keep it from disappearing before I got there. The lots owners sometimes buys the repos and fixed them to resell. When I finally got up to the lot the guy who works there started to spaz. He said the owner wanted to buy the car instead of me taking it. I didn't care because I had another I could go pick up. But The guy was panicking can calling everyone he could think of. I was just sitting in a comfortable chair.
It was finally determined that the car was mine so I pushed it down the hill and onto the tow dolly, strapped it down and headed out. I stopped by the finance company to pay them and the right tire on the tow dolly blew out.
The gals in the finance company couldn't figure out why I wasn't upset about it. However, one of the girls remembered that there was a tire on the back porch. I told her that I doubted it was a 13 inch tire. I was wrong. It was. And a brand new one at that.
So I took the car off the dolly so I could get the tire off then headed down to a friends shop that was just down the street to get it swapped over. Once I got back I put the tire on and then couldn't get the car to jump start. They had told me it would run. The PO had stripped out the battery terminal so there wasn't much I could do. I couldn't push it up hill to load it so I took the truck and dolly down the hill, them manhandled the car around to get it pointed down the hill and tried to get it loaded. It took three tries pushing it back and forth across the parking lot to get it loaded, but man did I get a workout.
As I was pulling out of the parking lot one of the gals from the finance company came running out yelling that the door on the car was open. The latch had jammed. Took a bit of muscle but I finally got it latched. The U-turn out of the parking lot pulled one of the straps loose on the tire so I had to stop again and tighten that back up.
I headed home. And then the guy from yesterday called. I am not sure where he disappeared this morning but he lost a day work because he couldn't be bothered to wait for me to call back.
ON the way home I called Steph and told her to call my 2pm appointment and tell them I wasn't going to make it. I didn't have the number with me.
Then I called the transmission shop to ask him if he was interested in the car. It was a 97 Pontiac GrandAm with a 5 speed. That was a pretty rare option. When he answered he was laughing. I asked what was so funny and he said that he just picked up the phone to call me. My transmission was ready. The pump was bad. He asked if I brought the torque converter in and I said yes. He said he owed me a converter because the day I brought the trans in they were shipping out bad converters and all they can figure is mine got mixed in with theirs. So for $250 I get my trans back with a new pump and a free brand new torque converter. He didn't want the Pontiac.
I got home and Steph and I gutted the Pontiac. When the tires are coming back home with me I take all but 2 lugs off the back tires and one all but one on the front. The back tire on the drivers side only had 3 lugs on it so I figured that wasn't too much more work at the scrap yard and I left it alone.
IN order to get the lugs off I had to have a thin walled 13/16 socket. When I left to take it to the crusher I got about 2 miles down the road and realized I didn't have the socket. Since tow dollys don't like U-turns I called Steph to run it up to me. Heath was taking a nap and I told her to leave him sleeping because she wouldn't be gone 5 minutes.
I waited in a church parking lot and she pulled in behind me and go tout to run up to give me the socket. As soon as I had it I pulled out. As soon as I pulled out the drivers rear tire on the car came off and went bounding across the road into another church parking lot. Steph took Christine over and snagged it. While I was jacking the car up she brought the tire back over and scrounged thru the car for some of the lugs we had taken off.
I finally got to the scrap yard and got the car off the dolly. Then I found out that one freaking lug that was left on it was a ¾ not a 13/16. I had to scrounge thru Tim's truck to find a socket. I am sure he knows how his tools are organized, but it was a mystery to me.
Now I am home. Exhausted, sore, and low on caffeine.