A Motorcycle Tale

When I was a kid I had some exposure to Harley-Davidsons via a couple of cousins and my brother.  My brother first had a "Hardly-Davidson", an Aermacchi Sprint which never ran right, but it got me hooked on the "Milwaukee Iron".  I rode my bike around pretending it was an H-D and had fun.  Later on my brother acquired a late '70s Sportster and I fell in love with the thing.  I was in high school at that time and was hell bent on being a biker.  My father did NOT want his youngest son riding around on a motorcycle.  I had some Harley shirts, got the requisite engineers' boots, had a Sportster 883 ad (torn from a magazine) in my locker, I watched biker movies, I read a book on Harley-Davidson...  I was Mr. Harley-Davidson without ever having ridden a motorcycle.  Looking back on it I was quite pathetic.

I got a little seat time on one of those small Japanese '70s dirt bikes a friend had.  My brother even let me ride his Sportster once.  Near the end of my Senior year of high school I made a promise to myself that, one day, I would own a Harley.  About ten months after that promise I ended up with a $150 Kawasaki KZ650-B1.  Dad was not happy.  He didn't speak to me for a week.  Dad eventually said that he wasn't happy with my decision but respected how responsible I was.  I had the thing registered, insured, had a helmet etc. right from day one.  It was my first year in tech school.  My instructor at the time used to be a motorcycle mechanic and he changed everything I had thought about motorcycles.

He loaned me a VHS tape of that year's Moto GP at Laguna Seca.  I had never seen road racing before but it caught my interest.  I was also reading every motorcycle magazine the school had.  I then got a subscription to Motorcyclist magazine.  Harleys were constantly being bashed and I couldn't understand why.  "Ah, these guys are all sport bike people and have no idea how awesome Harleys are." I thought.  The writers always complained about poor handling, lack of ground clearance and such.  Harleys were frequently compared to tractors.  The summer between first and second years of tech school I went to see my first road race at the local track.  I heard a Ducati for the first time.

I didn't know it, but I had become a motorcyclist at this time.  Not a biker.

The second year of tech school led to a loss of interest in Harley-Davidson.  I was never going to be able to afford one and, as I was finding out, they weren't much for sport riding.  The KZ650 was slowly becoming more sporting.  unnecessary parts were removed, parts were bobbed, the exhaust went from 4 into 2 to 4 into 1, just like sport bikes.  I was riding the hell out of that thing.  It just kept progressing a little bit at a time.  I started pushing the bike a little more here and there, I pushed myself a little bit too.  I really liked that old Kawasaki.  it wasn't a 600 Ninja, but that old KZ650 was more than enough for my meager skills.

Fast forward to 2009-2010.  The Kawasaki had stopped working just after I got my first place and it was put in the garage for four years.  I bought the house and moved the KZ to another garage where it would sit for years.  I eventually decided that I would figure out the problem and had it diagnosed within thirty minutes.  I kicked myself for not having done it years before.  But, the economy had tanked, major industry disappeared from the city and I had no money for motorcycles.  Things got so bad that I made the heart-wrenching decision to sell my beloved KZ650.  Worst decision ever.  I should have just let it sit in the garage for a couple of years until things got better.  But I didn't and I regret selling it.  Oh well, I had to live with it.  I thought that motorcycling had no interest for me anymore.

Day I brought Sporty Spice home

Three years ago a coworker had been having some trouble with his '98
Sportster.  Some idiot somewhere in the past had put a "big bore" kit on the thing so it went from being an 883 to something like 1150-ish.  The coworker was young, had a heavy hand and had damaged the cylinders.  He had it repaired at the dealer and he promptly did it again.  He did the work that time around and I started asking him (I saw a deal and I could fix it) if he wanted to sell it.  He declined.  He got it running, it puked the oil out, he learned about dry sump oil systems and then rode it for months until "that day".  He said he was out riding with his friends and the thing started running on one cylinder.  He had another Harley in his sights and asked me if I was still interested in buying the Sportster from him.  I got it for $800.  I fulfilled that promise I had made to myself in high school.

The sporty sat in my garage for a year before I decided to see if I could get it running.  Put some fresh gas in, did some rudimentary valve train and cylinder inspection and got it running.  I honestly couldn't tell if it was running right or if it was just the "performance" shit that got put on it.  Lumpy cams and all that kind of stuff.  It also had straight pipes.  Way too freaking loud.  At least it ran on both cylinders as far as I could tell.  I put it back in the corner and there it sat.

This summer I decided to clean the thing up, put a new battery in it, get it registered and take a little ride just to see if it was something I could putt around town with.  Then, something happened.  The motorcycling bug bit me again and after having given up on motorcycling I found myself obsessed with getting this poor, abused Sportster back on the road.  Once it was running and registered I took it around the block to see how things went.  No big problems so it was off to the gas station for a fill up and then I rode around the neighborhood.  I couldn't work on the thing fast enough.  I got it insured and started hunting for some stock exhaust, which I found, and when I was putting the quiet exhaust on I found the origin of the "running on one cylinder" complaint.

You'll have to do the research for yourself but, in short, a lollipop fell out of one of those annoying straight pipes.  That was fixed with the replacement exhaust, the carb got tuned a bit, things that had been ignored for so long by previous owners were adjusted, paint and chrome got polished, the "hammer & chisel mechanic" repairs done by previous Bubbas were fixed properly.

Sporty Spice in its current config

I've put a few hundred miles on it so far and have no plans to stop.  But I've learned something about Harley-Davidsons.  I don't really care for them.  Harleys don't have the little things that the Japanese motorcycles have but everyone ignores.  Flip up seats that reveal a bit of storage and helmet hooks, comfortable riding positions (talking about "standard" motorcycles like my old KZ650), engines that don't shake you to pieces, decent control layout...  When I flipped up the seat of the KZ650 I would see the battery, air filter (both easily changed) a small compartment for the tool kit and a document holder for the owner's manual and registration card.  My Sportster doesn't have any of that and I find it annoying.

As I put more and more miles on the Sporty I am beginning to understand all of those complaints I read about in those old magazines.  There isn't much "feel" with a Harley other than vibrations and aching muscles from uncomfortable riding positions.  I don't like forward controls.  I don't buy into the "forward controls let you stretch your legs out" nonsense.  That's fine for tooling around town while "cruising" and it looks cool, but forward controls got old fast.  Japanese "standard" motorcycles put your feet below your butt where they should be and the handlebar makes you lean forward just enough to cause the wind, at high speed, to keep you supported.  Brilliant!

I have a list of things I'm going to be doing to this Sportster in order to make it more to my liking.  Mid controls to get my feet in a more comfortable spot, a wider  handle bar for a bit more leverage and the slight forward lean of my torso, decent shocks etc.  I'm trying to make it into the KZ650 I loved so much.  It won't be, but I can get it close.  The passenger accommodations have been removed and the seat, with it's passenger pad, is going to disappear soon.  For me, motorcycling is a solitary endeavor.  I'll ride with my best friend, but that's about it.  Large group rides don't appeal to me but I have yet to participate in one of those.  Maybe I'll give that a try this summer.  I have a feeling it wouldn't be long before I started looking for the next turn so I could go out on my own.  That's just me.

I look back on my childhood and think about how I wanted a Harley and how I wanted to be a "biker".  I got the Harley and despite the things I don't like about it, I'm just happy to be back on a motorcycle again.  I haven't smiled so much or felt so happy in a long, long time.  But, I'm a motorcyclist and I'm not brand-loyal.  I wave at every rider I see because, regardless of the motorcycle, we're all out doing the same thing.  Having fun.

For Profit or For Pride?

One of my coworkers recently started asking me about woodworking stuff.  He's a single Dad and in the past couple of years his kids have gone out on their own so he's had the time and a little bit of extra money to pursue his hobbies.  One of them is woodworking.  I told him about the power tool scams, how to tell a good hand saw from a bad hand saw, some workbench design tips, a couple of hand planes to start with, how to sharpen etc.  The basic stuff.  Well, that is, what "basic stuff" is to me.

He's been using pallets as a source of material because they're free.  I do the same thing.  That's where he and I start to part ways.  He's been making what I call "flea market kitsch".  Simple projects that are pretty easy to make but don't really have any value in the grand scheme of things.  An example of what he's been doing is the "American flag" stuff.  He bought a 50 star stencil kit, edge glued some boards then painted the thing up as a faded American flag.  Which, I might add, flies in the face of the Flag code.  He brought the thing into work to show off, as I do, and he immediately sold it.  He then got a couple of requests for smaller versions to use as key hangin' boards.  I asked him "Really?  You're going to sell that kind of crap?"  He said it was easy money.  My narrow minded brain can't comprehend that sort of thing.  It's just like Ikea "furniture".  It exists only to make money and is never intended to last.  It sickens me.  The coworker brought in, yesterday, an American flag "punisher"... board, for lack of a better description.  No purpose to it other than to make money.  He's also acquired the requisite flea market business card with appropriately kitschy logo.  He's also a "sander".  I'm trying to get him to use a hand plane but he ain't budging.  Apparently he likes huge clouds of sawdust, wasted electricity, wasted time and rounded everything.  But he enjoys what he does and it makes him happy.  And that means I'm the snobbish asshole.  True story.

Before I had hand planes and decent, old saws, before I knew what "sharp" was and how to achieve it, I was just like the coworker.  I had the mindset that I couldn't make certain projects unless I had the right power tool or jig.  I measured everything and had no idea what a marking gauge was.  I had never heard of a marking knife.  I had never thought of making parts fit to other parts by simply holding up a board to another board and making a couple of tick marks.  Still, the crap I built back then was made as good as possible so it would last.  It had to be done properly.

About ten years ago I started converting to being a "hand tool" woodworker.  Once I read Christopher Schwarz's "Anarchist's Tool Chest" book, it was a done deal.  I use the table saw frequently but the router, biscuit joiner and palm sander have gone unused for years and years.  I acquired hand planes, molding planes, old saws, learned how to make the tools "shaving sharp", built a proper workbench...  It was a game changer and a revelation.  By regressing I've actually progressed and have become more independent.  With the small selection of hand planes and molding planes I have, I can create molding that can't be produced any other way.

When I build something I think about my nieces, nephews and their children.  I build things specifically for one person and never make a dime on it.  The smiles I see when I give them something is worth so much more than money.  The things I build will last long enough that generations down the road someone will ask "Where did you buy that chest with all the brass bits?" and the future relative will say something like "I think my grandpa's uncle, I heard he was kinda weird, made that for my grandpa."  That's the goal for everything that leaves my little shop.  Like most people, I'm afraid of being forgotten.  I don't have kids so all that will remain of me is what I'll leave behind.  It won't be Punisher American flags, key boards or whatever the fad was.  Remember when everything had a heart either painted on it or cut into it?

I guess I would say that I'm a woodworking (and metalworking to a lesser degree) evangelist.  Everyone wants "antiques" or what they think are "antiques" but have no clue as to why those antiques are desirable.  I try to educate people.  I show them how to tell machine made dovetails from hand cut dovetails.  Why dovetails, mortise & tenon joinery last longer than glue and screws.  I try and show them how the market is duping them into paying more for the cheap wood.  "Knotty pine" and "live edge" are just buzzwords to get you to pay more for common pine and lazy DIY sawyers, respectively.  Don't even get me started on the sliding barn door craze.  Bollocks!

My small bathroom has a built-in cabinet that was, obviously, done by a DIY person.  It's straight out of the New Yankee Workshop school of woodworking.  When I first saw the cabinet door I knew it was made by one of the previous owners of this house.  It was made with found materials, the plywood panel in the door had grain running horizontally instead of vertically *gag* and the door frame was of the stub tenon variety.  The cabinet is directly over the toilet so I looked at it frequently.  It annoyed me to no end, but, it was made by a person so I kept it as is.  Then the glue joints started to fail and the lower rail of the door came loose.  My first thought was that the person who made it did a shitty job, but then realized that it had lasted, maybe, twenty years in a damp, humid environment.  Not too bad.  But it had to go.  I was not going to repair something that I couldn't stand looking at.  So I made a new door.

Like the original, I used what I had at hand.  Poplar.  The rest of the cabinet is oak and oak-faced ply.  I had intended to paint the replacement but didn't.  Semi-gloss poly just like everything else.  Construction of the replacement door was a whole different game.  I made a new door with actual mortises and tenons.  The panel was wood, not ply, and the grain runs vertically as it should.  I also draw bored the tenons.  With that kind of construction, glue was an afterthought.  It doesn't matter how humid or wet it gets, unless the wood decomposes, that door is never going to come apart.  Unless the next owner of this house is a complete moron.

Long after I'm gone someone is going to remodel that bathroom.  If my initials and year of creation that I carved into the back of that door don't mean anything to them, it will end up in the dump and some shit Ikea-type crap will wind up in its place.  The thought of that disturbs me.  Getting rid of something decent for something that's crap, but in fashion, is what we've become as a society and we should be ashamed of ourselves.  We all can admire an old house that still has its original cabinetry and fittings but most will not think of how it survived.  Those things survived because stubborn berks like myself are not slaves to fashion and style.  Which brings me back to the coworker.

Though what he's making (for profit) is not what I consider a worthwhile investment of time, he does enjoy doing it and other people like it too.  They get something made by a real person and he gets some money.  That money is spent locally and not overseas at some massive factory that makes "fashionable" crap for Wal-Mart.  Though I can't stand the stuff, every piece of "rustic" or "heirloom" *gag* furniture that is sold at a flea market is a huge middle finger to overseas furniture farms.  Every antique that is saved and repaired says "Fuck you and your MDF 'cherry finish' crap!"  That's what I revel in.

Please, please, please learn how antique furniture is made.  Learn the signs left by the woodworkers of generations past.  Learn about the base woodworking joinery and why it works so well.  Please, don't buy commercially made crap.  Give it a go and build it yourself.  It will be worth so much more.

A Disturbingly Quick ECM Diagnosis. Really Long Story.

An RV filled to capacity with seven women (a grandma, two daughters and four grandaughters) and, I think, six small dogs, came into the shop last night.  It was a 2008 Chevy C5500 with 41,000 miles on it.  The thing still smelled new and there was no corrosion to be found anywhere except the exhaust pipes.  The RV had been well cared for and has been parked indoors during winters.  They called us saying that it was in a speed derate condition.  I think they came out of North Dakota or Minnesota and it had derated soon after departure.  A shop replaced the fuel filter and they went on their merry way.  300 miles later it derated again and that's when they showed up at our shop. 

I grabbed the work order, saw it was a C5500 and thought I had the job in the bag.  Would take a couple of hours, but I thought I would be able to get them fixed up.  One of our regular customers had a small fleet of those trucks and they all suffered, regularly, from the same problem these women were having.  After having them tell me what had happened (always talk to the drivers, shit gets messed up when the information passes from driver, to service writer, to mechanic) I scanned the thing and saw P0101 and P0102.  "This is a slam-dunk fix." I thought.  Then I saw the odometer.

The other customer (the fleet) didn't start having those DTCs and derate problems until the vehicles had well over 100,000 miles.  Those fleet trucks also idled a hell of a lot.  Someone not in the know, see the previous post, would toss a MAF sensor into the truck and call it good only to have the vehicle come back the next day with the same problem.  More parts, same problem etc.  After bashing our heads against the wall trying to figure out what was going on, we solved the problem.  The problem wasn't expected and wouldn't have been looked for, but we figured it out.  What we found with the first fleet truck was a carbon problem. 

All of the trucks in this story have the Isuzu 6.6L "Duramax" diesel engine (the LMM variety I believe).  Let me tell you, the Duramax didn't get the nickname "Dirtymax" for nothing.  They're decent engines and are reliable, but they're a real pain in the ass to work on.  Access to just about everything sucks. 

Try and follow along.  Air entry into the engine starts at the air cleaner, passes through the filter, past the MAF sensor (air intake temperature sensor and MAF sensor are one unit), through some ducting, into the turbo, out of the turbo, more ducting, through the CAC, more ducting, through the intake air valve, through the intake heater, through a small manifold where the EGR valve is also connected then finally into the engine.  Towards the end of that path is where the problems were found.

The little manifold bolts on top of the EGR valve.  The two ports which allow the exhaust gas into the fresh air intake are about 1" by 2" (25mm by 50mm) and the dirty-ass exhaust puts a LOT of carbon through those ports.  With the first fleet truck those two ports were completely blocked and the intake down into the engine was about 1/3 blocked.  I piled up all the carbon I dug out and it amounted to a ball (non-packed) of about 4" (100mm) in diameter.  Once clean and reassembled, the problem was gone.  Well, until the carbon built up again.  The next time we ran into those DTCs, a quick shove of a bore scope down the intake, a cleaning, done.  Every now and again the carbon build-up would cause the EGR valve to fail, but that was an easy test.  Use the scan tool to command the EGR valve to different positions throughout its range, a look at the values (commanded/desired position should match actual position) and if the numbers matched, EGR valve was OK.  If the numbers didn't match a new EGR valve was needed.  So, after all of that experience I thought the RV would be no different.

The RV, as mentioned earlier, only had 41,000 miles on it.  I did the EGR valve check and it was fine.  I pulled the pipe from the CAC and stuck the bore scope down the intake tract.  Sooty, slightly oily (normal) but no carbon build-up to speak of.  Exhaust wasn't restricted (air flow through the engine is the name of the game here), air cleaner was OK, ducting OK, CAC OK...  Well, I guess the diagnostic procedure had to be run through. 

I started with P0101 and not far into it a list of DTCs was given and if any of those were present they had to be dealt with first.  That's quite normal.  When faced with a number of DTCs, you pick the active DTC with the most occurrences and start there.  P0102 was one that had to be dealt with first and I then got that procedure.  I suppose I should explain diagnostic procedures.

When I was in tech school, these procedures were called flow charts because that's what they were.  Search Google for "flow chart" and you'll see what they are.  Start at the top, answer the "yes" or "no" questions (lots of testing involve in this by the way.  Voltage and resistance measurements etc.) and you'll end up with a solution.  The people who create these flow charts are really good at it, most of the time they're spot-on, but they're not infallible.  Most of the flow charts end up with one of two things.  "Replace ECM" or "Contact manufacturer".  It's very rare to get that far, especially contacting the manufacturer, but it does happen on occasion. 

ECMs are expensive.  We recently replaced an ECM in a 2006 KW that has a Caterpillar C13 and our cost for the part and it's programming (we don't have the capabilities to program Cat stuff) cost a little over $3,000.  When you're the mechanic doing the troubleshooting, you don't want to be wrong.  Replace an ECM only to have the same problem means you missed something early on.  A disappointingly large amount of mechanics don't go through EVERY step of the flow charts.  Generally speaking, if someone says an ECM is bad and they have less than an hour of diagnostic time into it, they didn't do what they should have. 

Troubleshooting start with basic stuff.  Visual inspection for corroded terminals, broken/burned wiring, missing components, damaged components etc.  A little further in and the ECM and sensor connectors will be disconnected, resistance checks done.  Those terminals and wires have to be identified and confirmed, the connectors have to be removed, wire colors or numbers identified... it takes a lot of time.  You want to be sure that the pin you stuck a meter probe into is the correct pin.  Sometimes you get to "replace ECM".  I go through the whole flow chart a second time just to be sure I didn't fuck up somewhere.  As I go through the flow chart I tick off every step I do and, if a measurement of some sort is called for, I write that down right on the chart.  If I get to "replace ECM" again, well, I guess the customer is getting some bad news.  If the second run through ends up at another solution I go through for a third time. 

The flow chart for this RV was alarmingly short.  Sometimes you run into a short one.  Scan, "Are any of these codes active yes/no", inspect intake for loose clamps... inspect exhaust for... monitor MAF sensor PID is the value within so and so?  Measure resistance at pin 2.  Is the resistance greater than five ohms?  If yes, repair circuit.  If no, replace ECM.  I was startled at how quick ECM replacement came up.  "That can't be right at all.  I missed something somewhere." I said out loud not realizing all these women were watching the whole time.  So, I ran through it a second time.  Replace ECM.  A third time wound up at the same spot.  "Ma'am, I have some news for you."

I hate telling nice people that they're going to be stuck in place for days and will be giving us a lot of their money.  I explained the fleet trucks and that their problem should be a carbon build-up problem but I wound up at ECM replacement three times.  She asked me some questions, I gave answers, she asked how much an ECM would cost and when we could get one, I paused awkwardly. 

"Well, it would probably be a couple thousand but I don't know for sure.  All the dealers are closed for the night."  Her tanned face turned white.  I then had to tell her that new ECMs are blank and required programming, programming involves programming fees, new ECM probably won't be in stock...  She asked where the nearest dealer was and I said "Just across town.  They'll probably open up at 08:00.  You're welcome to camp out in the parking lot if you choose to stay here tonight.  She went inside the RV and they all had a pow-wow.  She comes back out and says they have to be at a dog show, two states away, by 08:00 the next day. 

"What will happen if we keep going?  Will it derate again?  Will the engine be badly damaged?" she asks.  I can only say "I don't know.  The engine will most likely derate again, but I don't think the engine will be damaged.  You will be going through some not-so-nice parts of a couple of big cities though.  At night."  She then asks me what I would do.  I'm always a straight shooter with customers even if they don't want to hear what I have to say.  "I would call the dog show a bust and be at the dealer first thing in the morning.  The safety of my family would be my first concern.  You may make it just fine, but it could also go very, very wrong.  If my decision to try and 'make it through' resulted in harm to my family... I wouldn't want that on my conscience.  A dog show comes around every year, family only once." 

They had another pow-wow.  The lady came back and said they were going to try heading down the road.  "OK, I'm going to make it clear on the invoice that it was your decision to try and make it." I said.  They paid the bill, went out back to have dinner and when I looked out again they were gone. 

I hope they make it and that the dog show was worth it.

Find An Engineer

In modern terminology I'm a mechanic.  I'm not fond of that name, but it's what the general public knows me as.  In the Victorian and Edwardian eras I would have been called an "engineer" and I quite like that term.  Let me equate the mechanic/engineer divide with something you may have more experience with, the medical trades.  A modern mechanic would equate to a CNA.  A Victorian engineer would be a full-on MD.  I feel that I've earned the right to call myself an engineer.  When you consider the shop classes I've had, my time spent in tech school, the years I've worked the trade and the other related things I've studied on my own time... I'm an engineer.  The average "mechanic" these days is usually a parts replacer.  Sure, some computer stuff comes into it, but the average mechanic isn't going to understand much of it.  Connect the scan tool, see some code for some part, replace the part, didn't work... The job then goes to the older guys.  The engineers.  The guys who have bothered to learn how things actually work and why.  The parts replacers are concerned about beating book time so they can move on to the next job and beat the book time there.  It's about making money.  Concern about the actual cause of the problem and the customer are secondary. 

You've probably experienced that kind of scenario.  The "check engine light" (CEL) comes on in your car, you take it to a shop, the shop you've always gone to for oil changes and brake jobs, it's "fixed", you give them your hard-earned money and go on your merry way.  Two days later, that damned CEL comes on again.  You go back to the shop and explain your situation.  Turns out it's the same problem you had the first time 'round.  You don't get billed for the labor but you'll have to pay for some other part.  You go on your way again and... CEL comes back.  Another trip to the shop, you raise hell (rightfully so) and they promise you it will be taken care of this time.  Third time's a charm, right? 

You drop your vehicle, in the morning, for a third time.  Noon comes and you don't hear anything from the shop.  The previous two visits you had heard back from the shop around lunch time.  15:00 rolls by and you still haven't had a call back.  You call the shop for an update and get some generic explanation and are informed that your car will have to remain at the shop through the next day.  You're pissed (rightfully so) because you now have to find a way home that day and also get a ride to work the next day.  That third evening you're fuming.  You have the shop's Facebook page open and have already written a scathing review, but have yet to click the "post now" button.  You're angry, you've been in a pickle because you don't have any wheels, you think "All they have to do is hook the (it's always "the" instead of "a") computer up to it and they'll know what's wrong?"  Allow me to throw that back to you.

Let's say you're the VP of a local brewing company.  What if I told you your job just involved showing up in a company polo shirt and looking into large vats?  What if you are a network engineer and I told you your job was just moving cables from one place to another and sitting in front of a computer all day?  You would probably be thinking that I have no clue as to what your job entails and that I was an idiot for not knowing.  Well, then, don't go assuming about my job.  You may have a batch of beer that is completely wrong, you make corrections, the second batch is better but not quite right.  The stations in one part of the building may go dead, you make some tweaks and some stations start working, you make more tweaks... Your mechanic is no different.

Here's what's happening at your shop.  The first time you drop it off with a CEL complaint, the first available mechanic may (or may not) verify the CEL is on.  A scan tool of some sort gets connected (with the appropriate "connection" fee, those scan tools are expensive) and the mechanic sees some sort of codes.  The mechanic will do some quick reasoning and recommend replacing some sort of sensor/part.  The service writer calls you for approval and you, not knowing shit, approves the "repair" (which is a "most likely" kind of guess, but you don't know that) and you're picking up your car only to have the same problem a day or two later. 

The second visit to the shop, the same mechanic is going to be given the job (Yay!) and that mechanic will spend more than ten minutes "diagnosing" the problem.  Whatever part seems most relevant will get replaced.  You pick up your car, no charge for the labor but you do have to pay for the part.  A day or two later the CEL comes back on.  Same problem.  You're really pissed now.  You give the service writer a piece of you mind and leave the shop with steam coming out of your ears.  The service writer is now sick of having some raving bitch/lunatic asshole reaming them up and down, so the job is picked up and handed directly to the "old guy".  The "engineer".  The guy who spends his lunch breaks doing crossword puzzles and pondering the operation of triple expansion steam engines.  The puzzle solver.  Every decent shop has that guy.

The "old guy" has probably read a lot more books than you, the fancy-pants executive, have read.  You, the six figure executive, can't figure out why your lawn mower won't start (it's out of gas), while the "old guy" has already mowed his lawn and is reading a book about England's "Black Country".  But that doesn't matter.  You have a university education.  These mechanics are obviously not competent and you should get all of your money back.  The "old guy" disagrees, but won't tell you how much of an ass you're being.  The "old guy" will smile, tell you what he thinks the problem is and then offer to show you what he's found.  The "old guy" knows you're pissed, he's been in the business long enough to know how fucked up it is, but he wants you to be involved in the process.  He wants to show you why, and where, your money is being spent.  The "old guy" will be completely honest with you, "This is going to be really expensive..." and he'll let you make the decision.  You wonder "Why the hell didn't this guy work on my car in the first place?"

Repair shops aren't much different than other businesses.  Except for the flat rate system.  Imagine you were a building contractor and were asked to provide an estimate to put an addition on a house.  You would take the time and materials into consideration, allow a little buffer etc.  Now imagine that some organization had already made that estimate for you.  That organization said you could bill twenty hours for that addition.  You look at the house, the steep roof angle, the shitty grading and think "I can't do that in twenty hours?"  Well, welcome to the flat rate system repair shops operate under.  Times are provided for almost all automotive repairs and that's what the mechanic gets paid for.  If the job bills three hours, the mechanic gets paid for three hours.  Even if it takes him eight hours to do it.  The mechanic would lose a LOT of pay.  Conversely, if the job pays three hours and it's done in one hour, the mechanic gets paid for three hours.  It's a fucked up system that has only widened the gap between customer and mechanic.  The customer and the mechanic both want to come out ahead.  Doesn't always work that way. 

Your first visit to the shop is the mechanic rolling the dice.  Throw some parts at the problem and it may work.  Mechanic comes out ahead.  Second visit, the mechanic is trying to break even so he spends a bit more time and throws another part at it.  No good.  You're back for that third, "old guy" visit.  The shop knows you're a regular, they don't want to lose all of those money-making oil changes and brake jobs, so they appease you.  The job goes to the "old guy". 

The "old guy", the "engineer" knows that the shit has hit the fan and the problem has to be solved come hell or high water.  He bothers to take the time to actually follow the diagnostic procedures for whatever problem turned that CEL on.  It takes time to go through those procedures.  You've met the engineer, he's shown you what he's found and he's explained to you what needs to be done.  "I'll need to have your car for another day.  Is that okay?"  You may even get a call from that engineer the next day, explaining the problem he found, the repair involved and (roughly) what it will cost you.  The "old guy" will have already figured out the cost of labor (realistically, not book time) and parts so as to give you an honest answer.  You complain about the frustration of the first two visits (rightfully so) and that the problem should have been fixed the first time (think about your own job and your own success rate) and the "old guy" is just saying "yes sir/yes ma'am I understand.  Sometimes these problems aren't quite so cut and dried...."  You calm down a bit, reluctantly give approval, you don't expect anything to be different...  You pick up your car the next day, pay the bill for a few parts, a can of brake cleaner and some zip ties... but only half an hour of labor.  You know the "old guy" had to have spent more time on the job than half an hour.  What gives? 

The "old guy" had been paying attention to the job from your first visit.  He knows the younger guys are all about the money.  He knows they don't have a clue about the long-term survival for a shop.  The "old guy" bills half an hour because he knows the other mechanics should have figured shit out.  He wants you to come back.  The "old guy" knows once you've found a mechanic you "trust", regardless of whether or not they're the "cheapest" mechanic in town, you'll come back for more work. 

The "old guy" knows how things are supposed to work.  He understands how electricity works, he understands the basic physics of hydraulics (can't compress a liquid), but the "old guy" was a parts replacer at the beginning of his career.  Tech school can only teach so much.  The rest is on the individual.  The good engineers are constantly reading, constantly wondering "how does that work?" and constantly learning anything they can.  Always learning.  Sure, they have to make money.  Families need to be cared for.

You're going to go through a lot of mechanics and parts replacers before you find the "old guy" engineer, but once you find that guy, stick with him.  He may not be the cheapest, but your money will be well spent. 

Thoughts And Prayers

One thing I learned while dealing with my Dad's death back in '94 was that "I'm sorry" or "I'm sorry for your loss", when heard repeatedly, becomes meaningless.  A more modern, and meaningless, saying is some form of "Thoughts and prayers...."  I heard "I'm sorry for your loss" so many times that I resolved to never say it to anybody who has lost someone important.  During that trying time as I heard the "I'm sorry" so much I thought "Why the hell are you apologizing?"  I understand that the intention was good and, despite the saying making my skin crawl, it was appreciated.  These days, when someone has to deal with a loved one dying, Facebook is awash with the "Our thoughts and prayers are with you..."  Oh, just go and fuck your hat.  The words don't mean jack shit.  You want to support your friend when they've been knocked down?  Here's some suggestions.

Take some food to them.  Your friend and their family are going to be adrift and have temporarily lost their "normal" world.  A simple casserole taken to them as they go through the myriad of things involving funerals and such will speak volumes. 

Mow their lawn, rake their leaves, shovel the snow as the season demands.  Again, taking some task off their already overloaded minds. 

If you're only seeing the bereaved at the funeral, look them in the eye and just give them a hug.  Alternately a hand shake and pat on the shoulder.  A little bit of human interaction from someone who is "outside of the loop" will remind them that people who care are still among the living. 

Offer to help organize stuff.  "Don't worry about the flowers.  We'll load them up and bring them over to your place tomorrow."

Offer to transport people as needed. 

Just be there, hanging out in the background.  When you see the sniffles start and tears start to fall, be there with the tissues.  You see someone trying to get a phone number from a family member they haven't seen in forever... *Bam!* you're there with a pen.  The simple act of being near and making your presence known helps a lot. 

If you're not near to the bereaved, send a freakin' card.  Yes, by snail mail.  You send a card and the recipient has a tangible thing, a personal thing, to hold onto.  If you have a poignant photo of the deceased that might make the survivors smile, send it.

Your fucking "thoughts and prayers" don't do anything.  Your actions are what count.