No pictures today. They’d be too horrific. This day was spent at the Ford dealership while they dismembered the Mighty Furd’s front suspension. Got there ar 8AM, left at 4PM when it because clear that all of the needed work could not be completed by the time the mechanics end their workday. The suspension will be done and the new shocks are on, but then there’s the alignment and that bad tension pulley for the serpentine belt. They graciously carted me all the way out to Wellton, where I got out only to hear a newish Chevy pickup owner across the street climb into his cab and yell with a grin, “And they told me I should get a Ford!” Hyuk hyuk. Your day will come, my friend. Your day will come. …Or maybe you’ll trade it in before that day of reckoning and lose your wallet in that manner. In the end, we all pay.
My service writer had approached while I was in the dealer’s waiting room, once again looking like the messenger of doom. “Bad news, huh?” I asked.
“I’m afraid so,” he replied, looking very uncomfortable.
“They found something else?” I offered.
“Oh, no,” he said, “It’s just not going as smoothly as we hoped.”
“So it’s not about money, just time?” I asked.
“That’s right, it’s a time problem.”
“Then enter, friend!” I said, “Have a seat here and relax. I can take anything but finding more parts going bad.”
He explained, “There’s enough rust on the fittings that things have resisted coming apart, even with spraying a lot of Read more…