[291] Screed City

[291]

06/26/2024 Wednesday. Cushioned stool on top of desk. Room 340. Double Tree Hilton. Danvers, Massachutsets.

PART 2 of EPIC TALE of WOE

Recap: I was driving and my tire was hot as hell and smoking.

Now, I dont know much about cars, but what I do know I learned from owning Junior Mint. And over the last four years that damn car has been a wallet succubus because of the brakes. Since we have owned it I have put 85,000 miles on the beast. One time the left rear caliper seized and I had to employ three drunk rednecks and one very sober Scott to peel it free. After that we changed both rear calipers and the brake pads and rotors. My brother Luke and I changed both front calipers and the front brake pads and rotors as well as the rear brake pads and rotors. I paid some jerks $1,000 dollars a couple months ago to change all the rotors and brake pads. My point is that Junior Mint really eats up brakes. It is a couch on wheels. Scott thinks it is because of this, because the thing is huge and floppy and the brakes are small and wimpy, it just burns through brakes. I dont disagree. So I guess I understood very well that something was very wrong with my brakes at this point. I limped the poor thing home and found a very convenient parking spot across the street from the apartment. I got out and looked at the wheel again. It was surely smoking. I was very sad. I dumped all the water I had in the car on the tire and it steamed like Cleveland. I then took a five gallon bucket out of the trunk, because for Ticklers reasons I have five gallon buckets in my trunk apparently. I took that inside and filled it with cold water from the shower and lugged it back to the car, dousing the smoking wheel. This time it steamed like a double Cleveland. I repeated this action three times before it stopped steaming. I resigned myself to being annoyed and frustrated. I carried my luggage and for some reason the five gallon bucket into the apartment and set everything down. I brushed my teeth and walked to my studio to write, deciding I would would have a look-see the next day.

The next day the wheel was cooled down and sitting in a puddle of water next to a storm drain. It was very pleasant, with regards to the weather. There was shade and because it was early morning, it was still cool out. The front left tire was next to the curb so that was good. I jacked the car up and removed the wheel. The rotor was frozen in place, so I knew that the brakes were engaged. The brakes shouldnt be engaged when the car is in park. Or ever, really, unless you are pushing down on the brake pedal. I removed a bolt was holding the entire caliper housing to the, I dont know, carriage? in order to loosen the caliper itself from the brakes. I removed the two bolts holding that part in place and it came loose luckily. I removed the brake pads and had a look-see. They seemed fine. Big thicc things. Then I looked at the caliper itself and noticed that it would not retract. Naturally. I tried to bleed the system thinking it would let some pressure off, but nothing came out. I did a couple other things hoping to get results, but I did not get results. Eventually I had gone back inside to get the five gallon bucket that I carried into the apartment for some reason and put it under the stuff so I could remove the caliper completely which meant a whole bunch of brake fluid would come out. A whole bunch of brake fluid came out, but because I had a five gallon bucket under the things, all the brake fluid went in there.

These are all details, of course. Maybe they are interesting or not, my guess is that it would depend on what your definition of is, is, but what happened next changed what I was thinking. The caliper piston would not move. I could take it out but it would not go back in. I did a little research as I was sitting on the sidewalk, my feet in the gutter, a storm drain next to me, threating to swallow all the bolts and nuts and tools. People walking by, walking their kids, their dogs. My research told me I could replace my piston. That I should clean everything with brake cleaning fluid only. I put the put the wheel back on, leaving the car jacked up, I put all my tools and hardware in the back seat, made sure I had the piston and started walking the half mile to the car parts store.

I found the brake cleaning fluid easily. I also found brake fluid, which I knew I would need. I went and stood in line. It was a very long line for some reason. Mid-morning on a Monday? Why was the Get in the Zone, AutoZone, busy on a Monday morning? Is it an American cultural thing? Its not like they had some crazy deal happening, it was just busy. And it wasnt like the post office, where they only got like one jerk running things, there were five jerks being very active and not at all grouchy about it. It was odd. And sure, I was there, so why did I think it was odd that other people were there, you ask? Well, I work odd hours and in fits and spurts. I feel like everyone else works like 9 to 5 or something. 10 to 6. That they do their car work on the weekend. I dont know. I have no answer. I am probably being a dick for just asking the question, but it was very odd. I mean, it wasnt a grocery store or a Starbucks or something. It was a place to buy shit to fix your car or wash your car or maintain you car. In this economy? I mean, maybe that is all it is, the economy is good so people are buying air fresheners and stuff. Tire wipes, flip-flaps, that is what they call windshield wipers in Queens, by the way.

When it was my turn the guy started ringing me up and I put the piston on the counter and said:

"Do you happen to have pistons for calipers?" He looked at me in a way that meant he was suspect. I was covered in grease and oil at this point. I am sure my face was quite dirty.

"Well, no, you normally, [pause] just replace the whole thing."

"Yeah, I understand, but Im, um, my car is becoming a money pit, ya know, and I was thinking..."

"Let me see, what is the year?"

"2004, Nissan Altima."

"3.5 or 2.5?"

"I cant remember, 2.5?"

"Four cylinder or six cylinder?"

"Four."

"2.5. Yeah, we dont have it."

"How much is the caliper proper?"

"Uh, well, $74 for the caliper and $25 for the..." I cut him off. Big Brake strikes again. I cant just buy the fucking thing, I have to buy some of it now and then return stuff later to get a refund. No thank you, Brandon. Not in this economy.

"Yeah, Ill just see what I can do with this stuff. Ill probably be back."

Soon I was back at Junior Mint scrubbing things down and lubing things up. I had bought caliper grease back when Brother Luke and I changed out the front calipers, I dont know, a year and half ago? And they sell you so much of the shit that a couple weeks ago at Emma Willard High School we didnt have any drilling oil so we used my brake grease. And I still have so much left over that I could do an entire bevy of brakes and still not run out. I mean, what are you supposed to do with it? Do people randomly grease their brake stuff? Is that a thing?

Either way, after cleaning the caliper and lubing everything up again I was sitting pretty. I put it all back together and added more brake oil. I bled the lines as well as I could, being just one dude on the scene. They want you to have a brake buddy if you can get one, but I happen to be a lone wolf, so instead of having a bro at my behest, I just rolled my smokes into my white teeshirt sleeve and told Ponyboy to stay gold. I mean, I drove the car around for a while after I put the wheel back on. Things seemed fine. The brakes seemed fine. Everything seemed fine. Everything was fine enough. Fine enough to get back on the road. And I got back on the road. The next morning at 7a. I was heading upstate, yet again, looking for more abuse.

Meanwhile, three days later, Im driving from Queensbury, New York to Danvers, Masshole. Somewhere around Hopkinton, New Ham there is a crash at the intersection of NH 13 and this other one. I am near the front of the line with regards to the accident so I can see the emergency vehicles and such. Things are taking forever, but it looks like things are about to start moving. They dont move. In fact I can see cops rolling around measuring wheels, making notes about the crash. Which, sure, you have to make your report, but the ambulance is long gone, the fire trucks have left. The intersection, from what I can see on my map is telling me that there is a detour the fifty cars at this point can take to go around the incident, and youre basically doing paperwork for insurance reasons? And sure, that is fine, do what you have to do, but maybe send somebody up the road and tell people what is happening, I mean, from the looks of things things are about to change at any moment, but they never change. Had I known it would have been forty five minutes of waiting I would have just turned around and taken a different route you jerks. And I could have told people on my way out. I felt insane waiting there. It got bad enough that I turned around and yelled, Kiss my toucus! to the cops. And those fuckers chased me down and gave me a ticket for disturbing the peace! Just joking, what happened next is that Junior Mint started acting like it had been acting in Queens. I couldnt believe it. I really couldnt. I pulled over the first chance I got and spent half an hour with Big Brake taking me down. I finally catch a break and this is it?

I mean, the wheel was so hot that I had to wear leather gloves to remove the wheel. I got, yet again, a blister. And as I standing there trying to figure out what to do, the piston wont retreat, the brakes are engaged, everything is hot as a Cleveland tailpipe, it dawns on me to see what happens with the release valve. Moments later, after a spit of red hot venom, the rotor is released. I put the wheel back on. Run into the woods to take a piss and off I go. The traffic is once again moving in both directions. I can only assume that it is because the accident is cleared, so I return to my original route. When I get to the intersection there is no sign of the accident. Which I find very frustrating. Sure, it probably took me thirty minutes to do the shit that I did, but there were no residuals of the crash? We sat there for at least thirty minutes. If the trucks that were involved in the crash could have been moved that easily, what the actual fuck? Why not just get them out of the way? You have to shut down society just because of property? What about me? What about my freedoms? Libertarians are morons is my point. New Hampshire can eat it. Also, cops suck.

Thus ends my Epic Tale of Woe. I had to stop once more to bleed the caliper valve. This time I did it next to a body of water so I could cool the wheel down. But in my perspicacious genius, I realized I could just turn the tire and get access to the valve without removing the wheel. I mean, well see. I have to drive back to NYC on Friday. Scott thinks because I removed the piston the thing is leaking and therefore I need to replace the caliper. I dont disagree, but I dont want to. But I guess I can do that this weekend. Great, Big Brake makes me spend more money on bullshit. But this time, I am doing it myself. And I am going to add double brake pads so I dont have to change them so often and maybe a relief valve like I tried to use for the Ticklers back when I thought I could brew the things in 2 liter bottles. Youll see. I am going to take down Big Brake from the inside!

[insert I cant catch a break]