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June 12,
2003
this morning i got up feeling sick. sick at the
thought of going out to look at the remains of my flambéed scout. i am almost sure that the problem began at one of the cigarette
lighters in the dash. one of them gave me trouble on the way back from
florida! in all the rewiring i guess i either thought it had probably
taken care of the wiring to it, or just plain forgot about it. anyway, i
would say that it was 80% likely to be the problem based on where the
concentration of burned wires is.
good news: if the problem was indeed w the cigarette
lighter, then it is likely that there
was not a major current draw on wires from other parts of the car (at
least initially). .... later on... hmmm ... seems that though the spanish word for garage is garaje, garajes in these parts do not necessarily come with roofs... or walls for that matter. in fact, my dear school director's garaje was what in the us we might call a drivewaje... so i got back in the tow truck and made my way over to a bomba (gas station... literally is the translation for 'pump') near the hotel. cool guys... let me rent a bay in the station for $20 for the week... they're a total crackup too... non-stop jokes. amazing that any gas actually gets bomba'd ... took out the instrument cluster looked behind the dash... what a mess. initially it was pretty disheartening-- pulling off the dash and seeing this angry picasso of plastic and copper, melted and fused into a black mess like a long forgotten pot of burned spaghetti ... and topped off with a lovely light frosting of lemon-yellow fire extinguisher surprise. in fact, its still pretty damn disheartening... logically, i know this is solvable. its only wire, and all parts are replaceable.... but wiring takes so LONG. especially when you try and do it the right way....
my neck is killing me... old injuries come home to
roost... ever seen the standard position for car stereo workers?
its upside down and backwards, head under the dash and feet skyward,
through the open window or wrapped around the nearest fixed object...
constantly kung-fu fighting to relocate the head and trunk into a more
optimal position. its an occupation well suited to the young and
small. neither of which i am feeling right now at all. |