[bad guys die]
Driving back from Lowes like the loser suburbanite I am. I heard this heinous sound coming from somebody's car. That high pitch squeal of fanbelt or brakes. The sound of somebody's bucket driving around MY neighborhood. And, boy was I pissed because that means some lowlife, poor, minority has somehow penetrated the bubble that is my suburban oasis. I'm all looking around indignant. Sneering.
Then I noticed.
Hey, that sound was coming from MY car. WTF?! No. Way.
Passenger side. Front. The brakes couldn't be bad...how could a Honda have blown a bearing before 30k miles? Did the spouse run a curb? Oh, and it's the middle of the Memorial Day weekend. I'm not thinking it's going to get repaired any time soon.
Maybe I'll take a look - manly man I am. Where to start? Turn the wheel, drive back and forth a bit. Roll stop; roll stop. Or, roll screet; roll screet. Terrible sound. LOUD sound. Embarrassing sound. I like to stay anonymous and stealthy when I'm rolling the hood (of the Land of Kent). Here's an idea: I'll take the wheel off.
So, I jack up the car, remove the lug nuts, and take the wheel off. Now what? Maybe the braking mechanism has broken, perhaps it's the universal joint. Maybe I'll make it worse (like from a $200 repair to a $1,500 repair - I've done that before - timing belt on an old Nissan circa 1991). But, I'm curious.
I start the car (it starts). Check the brake fluid (good). Turn the wheel some more (it turns)... Shit!
As I prepare to put the wheel back on I bump the hub again (or whatever the hell that thing's called). I hear the sound again. Maybe.... I put the wheel down again and look behind the back of the disc (or whatever the hell that thing's called) and lo and behold (perhaps?), I see a glistening. It's a pebble-size piece of glass - windshield safety glass. It's wedged between the disc and the dust shield (or whatever the hell that thing's called). I move the hub = squeak. I fish the glass out. I move the hub again = no squeak.
I put the car back together again and viola!
GOOD GUYS WIN, BAD GUYS DIE!
I am such a man today. Somebody get me a beer, a fishin' pole, and some ass!
Now, had I taken it for repair, do you suspect that the mechanic would have said, "son, you are one lucky somebitch...just a pebble making a lot of racket." Ya' think?
