by: Trevor Leahy.

 

Well, this is a very long story. But here it goes:

One day, I got it into my head that I should change the oil in my girlfriend's car. After all, we had put a couple thousand miles on it when we went on vacation. When the day finally came, I drove to the office she works in, gave her my car, and took hers to do my handiwork.

So I figure, "Hey, I'll show her what a good guy I am and get her the REAL GOOD (expensive) synthetic stuff, and she'll be so pleased that I will get sex". Or something to that effect. The point is, I thought I deserved sex for the upcoming deed. So I paid thirty dollars for 6 quarts of oil and a new filter. I then drove to her house. She still lives at home, and her parents had just moved in to a new rental house about 2 weeks prior. Knowing that I am a fairly consistent fuck-up, I had the good foresight to NOT change the oil on the driveway. I parked her car In front of the house, and mentally prepared myself for the challenge awaiting me. I wore a messed up pair of cut-off khaki pants, and a black T-shirt, because I figured if I got some oil on the T-shirt, it wouldn't be that noticeable. It still makes sense, even in retrospect.

I opened the trunk, and got out the jack and tire iron. They were so new, that they came in a leather pouch. We're talking about things that last saw light coming out of a florescent tube at the Acura factory. Being very careful not to get any dirt, dust, pollen on the shiny jack and tire iron, I lifted the Integra off the ground after several hundred rotations. So I wedge my body into the 12 inch space between car and pavement, and begin looking around. Mobility was virtually nil. I could hardly even turn my head to look for the oil filter, much less the plug. After feeling around with my left hand for a while I finally found the plug, about two inches above my scalp parallel to my body. This is the most uncomfortable place it could possibly have been. Sure, I could have turned my body, but then my legs would have been sticking out into the street.Having discovered the plug (but not being able to see it under any circumstances) I made sure that I would be able to loosen the filter somehow.It was in a hole about 4 inches straight above my face. Right now, while you're reading this, let's do an exercise: Take 3 videocassettes. On the nearest table or countertop, stand two of them upright and the third across the top so that you have an eight inch, open-bottom square. Take a can of soda. Put it inside the box. Now get on your knees so the soda can is at eye level, and about six inches from your face.Now reach into the box and simply turn the soda can without touching the videos or moving your head. This is what it was like removing the oil filter. Except in my case, the can was glued to the counter, and I had to turn it four-thousand times. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before I could remove the filter, I had to drain the old oil out by removing the plug. So after I familiarized myself with the layout of the car's underside, I crawled out, and went to the toolbox where the ratchets were kept. I grabbed a handful that I thought might be the right size and shimmied back under the car, making room this time for the oil-pan.

The oil pan was one of those super nice ones also. It was about 6 inches deep, and hollow, so all the oil drains onto it, and then down a small hole in the middle so the thing fills up. Then, when you are done, you plug it back up, and you have a sealed container full of oil that holds something like 20 quarts. A very convenient piece of hardware for a multi-car family.

I made sure to unplug the hole in the middle and tightly seal the spout which allows you to pour out the oil. I positioned the pan to my left and about even with my collarbone, and began trying the various bolt removers. Having found the right one (after having to move the oil-pan, shimmy out from under the car, head to the tool box, play the "bigger than this/smaller than this" game with the bolt removers, head back to the car, wedge myself under it, and move the oil-pan back into position) I finally managed to move the plug a quarter inch. I then spent maybe twenty minutes (no, I'm not exaggerating this time) TIGHTENING the plug. Swearing under my breath, I began turning it the right way. The car was still hot, so I was taking it real slow, so as not to burn my hands on the hot oil. When the first drops appeared, I was careful to make sure that they fell into the pan. I saw nothing wrong, so I continued, unleashing a gushing torrent of molten lead. So I spent about 15 seconds in peace while the oil drained. Then I entered the Ninth Circle of Hell.