I’ve had a number of
situations I would consider defining moments for me. For many people, a lot of
the defining moments are the same types of situations, such as marriage, the
birth of one’s first child, divorce, graduation from high school and/or
college. The defining moment I share with you now doesn’t fall into any of
those categories. What I recall about this time is the difficulty of finding
motivation, strength, and value within myself. I was involuntarily unemployed,
so I basically had all the time in the world. At the same time, however, I felt
like I still didn’t have any time.
Because I had so much, time lost its value. Because I
squandered my time, I lost sight of my own value. My wife and I were renting a
basement apartment from her brother and living off her near-minimum-wage
part-time job and my unemployment insurance checks. I felt like a useless,
worthless piece of nothing. With each payment deposited to our checking
account, we struggled to determine which of the bills was most crucial to be
paid next. I lived primarily off cold cereal, and I started mixing water with
milk powder from our long-term stored food to save the expense of fresh milk.
To top off this downward spiral of events and emotions,
my wife’s car broke down. Without the means to take it to a shop to be fixed, I
began to diagnose the problem on my own. I figured it shouldn’t be too much
trouble. I had, after all, successfully worked on my dad’s 1976 pickup truck in
years gone by. This car, however, proved to be much more difficult very
quickly.
Comparing
a 2003 coupe to a 1976 full-size pickup truck is like comparing a half-empty gallon-jar
of pickles and a can of sardines, with the latter being the coupe. Not only was
the working area much smaller, but there were many more parts to deal with too.
For some reason, air bags and air conditioning and fuel injectors and sensors
of every type caught on over the years and became standard equipment on newer
cars. I could barely squeeze my hands into areas under the hood of the coupe
where I could nearly fit my whole body in those same areas in the pickup.
The
symptoms pointed to a problem with either fuel or ignition. The spark plugs and
wires were good. We had replaced them the year prior. The battery was still
good. The alternator tested fine. The air filter was still moderately clean,
and we had kept up on oil changes. In my mind, there were only two other
possibilities. One required a $10 part. The other was an $800 fix at a nearby
shop. I crossed my fingers and changed the fuel filter.
I
held my breath as I turned the key to try to start the car.
Rrrrffrrfffrrffrffmmmpppt.
Rrrrffrrfffrrffrrfffmmmpppt.
Rrrrfffrrrfffrrfffrrffffmmmpppt.
It
was no use. The car wouldn’t start.
That
meant we had a worst-case scenario. I had to take the car in to be fixed by
someone who was qualified to change the fuel pump embedded within the fuel
tank; to the tune of $800.
There
was only one problem with that. I didn’t have $800 to spend on car repairs. I
didn’t have $800 period. That didn’t change the fact, however, that my wife
needed the car to get to work and school.
Consequently,
I decided to do the bravest, stupidest thing I had ever done. I decided to
tackle the job myself.
After
borrowing $250 from my father-in-law to buy a replacement fuel pump and a car
repair manual, I started pulling that little car apart, with no hope of being
able to hire someone to put the thing back together for me at any point in the
foreseeable future.
I
was pretty proud of myself when I finally got the fuel tank removed and
confirmed the part I had bought with borrowed money was the right one for the
job – it was a perfect match to the bad fuel pump. I marveled at the cheap
plastic construction of the fuel tubes on the pump. “How on Earth did I get
that out without breaking those little plastic nipples/tubes?” I wondered to
myself. I made a mental note to be sure to reattach the fuel tank with extra
caution.
After
siphoning the fuel out of the tank to make it easier to lift back into place, I
began worming the tank through all the other parts on the car’s undercarriage
to get it into the right spot. With a twist here and a turn there, I had it in
a position where it needed just a little bit of a boost to be snugly back in
place. I gave it a little upward push, and CRACK!
I
don’t remember exactly what I did next, but I will never forget the feeling of
utter despair and hopelessness I felt in that moment. I was so close to likely
having fixed the car on my own and getting things back in order, but instead, I
managed to make the situation even worse. I had broken a $250 part I bought
with borrowed money. I couldn’t borrow that much money again just to end up breaking
another one. I couldn’t borrow the money to have someone else fix the car, and
I wouldn’t ever have that much money
to spend on car repairs as far as I knew in that moment. My unemployment checks
would soon run out. Without a car my wife wouldn’t be able to get to and from
work. Without an income, we could become homeless and destitute. In that
moment, I felt I had just missed a minor success, and instead, doomed my wife
and myself to a terrible fate.
In
retrospect, I was making things out to be much worse than they really were –
but that’s how depression works.
I
did, however, learn that, given an
abundance of time, the human mind can come up with brilliant solutions to
life’s problems. This is the part of my defining moment I like to focus on,
looking back.
With
no other options available, I spent a lot of time staring at the broken fuel
pump. I cursed the engineers who designed it and the manufacturers who produced
it. How could they possibly have been so stupid!?
However,
while I stared at their blunder, which was now my problem, I devised a plan
that I dared execute only out of sheer desperation. It could be dangerous. If
the plan failed, it could potentially end with the car in flames. I was, after
all, dealing with the pressurizing and distribution of gasoline from an
electrically-operated component.
I
carefully measured the broken plastic tubes and headed to the hobby store. I
picked up some small brass tubing, super glue, and epoxy. A careful search on
the internet informed me that super glue would not likely be dissolved by
gasoline.
I
inserted the brass tubing inside the cheap plastic tubing, creating a durable
internal skeletal sleeve. The fit was perfect, allowing an application of super
glue to adhere the parts securely. After giving the super glue time to cure, I
drenched the whole top of the component with 2-part epoxy resin, completely
enveloping the brass-plastic tubes in the glob of glue, aside from their
openings for fuel flow.
After
the epoxy cured, it seemed I could probably hit that part of the pump with a
hammer without doing any damage. Of course, I wasn’t taking any chances. I
reassembled all the car’s parts very carefully, and this time the fuel tank
went up into its spot without any obvious signs of damage. I still had to be
brisk with it though, so I was wary when I went back to try to start the car
again.
To
my pleasant surprise, the car started right up. There were no signs of fuel
leakage, even with the pump running. No warning lights illuminated on the dash
board while the engine ran, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing, of
course, except that I had just fixed a $250 critical component of a modern
vehicle with less than $10 worth of supplies from the hobby store.
Looking
back on this moment, there are two things I learned: First, human ingenuity can
be astounding at times, and I’m human - so that includes me. Second, desperation
is the polar opposite of fun, but sometimes it can be in those desperate
moments we shine our best.