Whadda pain

Downeaster

Downeaster

Everything in XS
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Inna ass!

Last couple of times I've used the Cabota, there's been a distinct aroma of eau de' mouse.

It's been too hot and/or I've been too busy and/or not in the mood to deal with it.

The stars aligned today and I attacked it. I knew it was between the headliner and the roof of the cab. There are 16 10mm bolts of various lengths and a dozen or so of those wretched push-pin plastic fasteners holding the two pieces (headliner and roof) together and all of the cold end of the AC plus all the ducting and gates/actuators/plumbing/wiring is sandwiched in there.

Things came apart fairly easily, especially once I realized that the push pin fasteners were the kind where you push the little pin IN to release it. Fortunately, the roof is plastic and doesn't weigh much. Vacuumed out the mouse house, a handful of seed and one deceased baby meese. Hosed it down liberally with Febreeze and then the fun began.

Getting that headliner back up in position and getting all the bolts started was REAL fun. Trying to hold the headliner up with one hand, fish around for the hardware with the other and get the bolts started in blind holes whilst working over my head was just SUCH a joy.

Amazingly, I stayed relatively calm (only required one minor and quite mild dose of verbal lubrication) and got it done with no parts left over. Even had to take it partway back off because I discovered that the left hand A/C duct had to go in from underneath. I was able to wiggle it in without having to drop the whole headliner which would almost certainly have generated an impressive stream of verbal lubrication.

Anyhoo, it's done and it smells MUCH better in there.

Until I fart...
 
2XSive said:
What brand do you use DE? Mine just never seems to work.
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It depends on the situation.

Stage 1, Mildly annoyed: various references to bodily excretions at conversational volume.

Stage 2, Getting seriously tired of this: Fairly specific references to probable ancestry and deviant sexual practices with farm animals and close family members. Volume (in both senses of the word) may increase somewhat.

Stage 3, Really, REALLY annoyed (but not quite ready to start throwing things): VERY specific predictions as to probable destination in the Next Life, allegations of highly improbable parentage. Volume increases dramatically. Neighbors call their children inside. Seagulls divert to avoid immediate air space.

Stage 4, Done screwing with this thing: Finesse replaced by large hammers, oxy-acetylene torches, grinders and air chisels. Veins in forehead look like a topo map. Creative combinations of Stages 1, 2 and 3 plus multi-syllabic hyphenated expletives. Volume reaches a point where vocal cord damage is imminent. NASA and NORAD start tracking hammers and wrenches that suddenly appear in Low Earth Orbit. Wife disavows any knowledge of the demented whack-job in the shop. Police and EMTs are placed on standby. Little old ladies within a 3 mile radius faint dead away.



.
 
My height isn't the only thing getting shorter with age.
Shed of ill repute is only 30 feet from neighbors house, I fear the guy may make some comments about the audio feed and his wife some day.
 
jpdevol said:
OMG! :laughing:Ya'lls posts need a disclaimer: Don't take a big slug of water while reading.....

My screen's wiped-off, still working on drying the keyboard:lmao:
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On another board I hang out on (moderate, actually) we call that an "SBR"...Swallow Before Reading...
 
Downeaster said:
It depends on the situation.

Stage 1, Mildly annoyed: various references to bodily excretions at conversational volume.

Stage 2, Getting seriously tired of this: Fairly specific references to probable ancestry and deviant sexual practices with farm animals and close family members. Volume (in both senses of the word) may increase somewhat.

Stage 3, Really, REALLY annoyed (but not quite ready to start throwing things): VERY specific predictions as to probable destination in the Next Life, allegations of highly improbable parentage. Volume increases dramatically. Neighbors call their children inside. Seagulls divert to avoid immediate air space.

Stage 4, Done screwing with this thing: Finesse replaced by large hammers, oxy-acetylene torches, grinders and air chisels. Veins in forehead look like a topo map. Creative combinations of Stages 1, 2 and 3 plus multi-syllabic hyphenated expletives. Volume reaches a point where vocal cord damage is imminent. NASA and NORAD start tracking hammers and wrenches that suddenly appear in Low Earth Orbit. Wife disavows any knowledge of the demented whack-job in the shop. Police and EMTs are placed on standby. Little old ladies within a 3 mile radius faint dead away.



.
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I’m not exaggerating that my wife is literally crying while sitting on the chair this morning because she’s laughing so hard at this. She said that was wonderful and thank you for the laugh.
 
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