Been There, Done That....
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Just another Corvette guy
Joined: Feb 1999
Posts: 8,518
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From: Palm Springs, CA.
Been There, Done That....
I wrote this article and had it published in Vette-Vues Magazine last year. So I thought I'd share it here for all you C4 guys who've been up against it with your Corvette, one way or another. Maybe you just need a laugh and believe me, you're not alone.....
A Day in the Life of a Dedicated Corvette Guy (or Just When You're Convinced You Know it All)
Ok I thought this would go to my grave with me but......
A while ago the question came up between a few of my Corvette pals, "What's the dumbest thing you ever did in your Vette?" I listened with good humor to several funny stories of less than stellar judgment, when it finally comes around to me and they asked "Well? What about you?" First I hesitated, then I decided that after a couple of decades it was time to seek absolution.
Way back about the time Ricky Martin was Livin' La Vida Loca and Haley Joel Osment was "seeing dead people", I'd bought my wife a nice C4 convertible and, as things go, in time it needed a new master cylinder & power brake booster. Easy, I've done this job a dozen times on other Corvettes, I'm a professional, I can do it after work in the garage, ...with my eyes closed.
Quick background, I'm an ASE certified tech with 30 years under my belt. I've got a wall covered in GM certifications and awards, and a shelf full of car trophies. I've owned a couple dozen Corvettes, done several complete frame offs. There is no job on a Corvette that I'm not familiar with. So I'm in pretty comfortable territory here.
I pick up the new master cylinder and power booster, bench bleed & pop it in the car in "Indy pit stop time" feels great, but the master cylinder is just a little low on brake fluid and it appears I'm fresh out, so I jump in the Vette and blast over to my neighborhood Auto Zone, (which is only a couple minutes from my house), to try and catch them before they close. But I'm too late, the doors are locked. Damn.
When I get back in the Vette and back out of the parking spot I feel it. Just a whisper at first but I feel the front brakes are a little too heavy, they are ever so slightly dragging, but I feel it. I know right away that the actuator rod is a touch longer on the new booster, but I'm not far from home, I've got no tools with me and it's dark. So I figure I'll go for it. As a "professional" I realize the worst that can happen is that I could burn up a set of brake pads, but chances of that are low so it's worth the risk. Not really that big of a deal I suppose. But I do know that I cannot stop the car, if I stop, I will never get it moving again and that means a tow truck. Quickly calculating the time/cost of replacing the pads vs. time/cost of calling a tow truck, I decide to sacrifice the pads. I'll replace them in the morning. I'm a professional, I'm not calling a tow truck. 2 blocks later the rod is applying slightly more pressure than I first thought and the right front wheel starts to grab and lock up. I'm a professional so naturally I throttle in to keep the car moving. 3 blocks now and I realize the rod is applying much more pressure and I'm probably replacing more than just front pads. I can almost see my house... Recalculate: One front rotor vs. cost/time and humiliation of a tow truck, 'cause I just know that driver is going to laugh when he sees the skid marks and the idea of the whole flat bed load up at probably $100 for literally a 30 second tow at this point... No way. I decide I'll eat the rotor cost too. Heavier on the throttle to keep the car moving. One more block and the right front tire is now LOCKED and I'm burning a flat spot in the 255/50/16 BFG Comp T/A, forget the calculation, I'll just buy one of those tomorrow as well. Good thing it's dark, no one can see the smoke. I'm a professional, I'm not calling a tow truck. I'm less than a hundred yards from my house. It takes 2 tries to make the corner on to my street with the rear tires breaking loose as I'm at near full throttle now and both front brakes are completely locked. I no longer have rotating front wheels, they are now more akin to skis on a snowmobile. I'm leaving a trail of rubber from all four tires that Ray Charles could follow, in a heavy fog, at night. How can all this have gone so bad so quickly? It's like one of those disaster movies from the 1970's, the ones that make you say "That could never happen in real life", but it is happening and in real time, it feels like ages but I just left Auto Zone a minute and 30 seconds ago! The front of the car is smoking like a wet pile of leaves on fire, the rears are also billowing smoke from this completely absurd but forced brake torque burnout I'm performing just to keep the car moving. Somewhere in the back of my mind this crazy thought creeps in: "If I was at one of those burn-out shows right now that all the kids are going to, nobody would beat this smoke show! I could probably add another trophy to my shelf!" I realize then that all the burning rubber smoke I've been inhaling must be making me delirious... With only feet left to go, I hit the automatic garage door opener and manage to skid the Vette up the driveway and inside the garage just in time to see the glow of flames from the driver's side fenderwell reflected in my huge Snap-On tool box, the one with the big sticker across the front that says "I'm a Professional, Please Don't Ask to Borrow My Tools". The grease that has boiled out of the wheel bearings onto the red hot rotors has now caught fire on both wheels. I'm a professional, there's no way I'm calling a fire truck. I jump out of the running car as soon as it lurches to a stop and I grab the fire extinguisher off the wall, pop the hood and shoot the flames out but the extinguisher trigger jams and dumps the hole charge on one side only. Damn. The other side is still in flames. Choking and gasping for air, I grope through the smoke for my second extinguisher and, running to the passenger side, I trip over a jack stand, gouging a shriek-worthy hole in my shin but I manage to get the second tiny inferno doused as well. The garage is so full of smoke and fire retardant I can't see anything, but through my red and watering eyes I glare at the car, bleeding and coughing but grinning with the rage of triumph. I made it home, my wife is blissfully unaware of the drama that has just played out so I am still her champion and I can fix all of this because I AM A PROFESSIONAL. Victory is mine and now it's Miller time! That's when I hear two simultaneous loud pops and realize both of the burnt front brake hoses have just burst, instantly releasing the locked pressure on the calipers. My bloodshot eyes bug out like a character on an Ed Roth T-shirt as I come to the full realization that, in my rush to put out the flames, I'd left the still running car in drive and watch in stunned horror as the car launches forward and crashes into my work bench collapsing it onto the hood of the car. Dozens of tools, cans and bottles fall from the bench and the shelf above, using the now angled bench as a spring board to bounce, smash and break all over the hood and windshield of the Corvette. ....and the whole black comedy comes full circle when I notice the last one to drop and spray all over the hood is a full bottle of brake fluid.
..... comprehension and clarity come to me, I no longer hold dominion over all things mechanical. Apparently, never did. I am fortune's fool. A slight whimper escapes my lips as I drop to my knees in shame and admit defeat.
End result: 2 new loaded calipers, 2 new rotors, 2 new front brake hoses, all new front wheel bearings and races, 2 new BFG Comp T/A's, an appointment with the body shop to repaint the hood, two new legs for my broken work bench and a huge mess to clean up in the garage.
Maybe next time I'll call a tow truck.
A Day in the Life of a Dedicated Corvette Guy (or Just When You're Convinced You Know it All)
Ok I thought this would go to my grave with me but......
A while ago the question came up between a few of my Corvette pals, "What's the dumbest thing you ever did in your Vette?" I listened with good humor to several funny stories of less than stellar judgment, when it finally comes around to me and they asked "Well? What about you?" First I hesitated, then I decided that after a couple of decades it was time to seek absolution.
Way back about the time Ricky Martin was Livin' La Vida Loca and Haley Joel Osment was "seeing dead people", I'd bought my wife a nice C4 convertible and, as things go, in time it needed a new master cylinder & power brake booster. Easy, I've done this job a dozen times on other Corvettes, I'm a professional, I can do it after work in the garage, ...with my eyes closed.
Quick background, I'm an ASE certified tech with 30 years under my belt. I've got a wall covered in GM certifications and awards, and a shelf full of car trophies. I've owned a couple dozen Corvettes, done several complete frame offs. There is no job on a Corvette that I'm not familiar with. So I'm in pretty comfortable territory here.
I pick up the new master cylinder and power booster, bench bleed & pop it in the car in "Indy pit stop time" feels great, but the master cylinder is just a little low on brake fluid and it appears I'm fresh out, so I jump in the Vette and blast over to my neighborhood Auto Zone, (which is only a couple minutes from my house), to try and catch them before they close. But I'm too late, the doors are locked. Damn.
When I get back in the Vette and back out of the parking spot I feel it. Just a whisper at first but I feel the front brakes are a little too heavy, they are ever so slightly dragging, but I feel it. I know right away that the actuator rod is a touch longer on the new booster, but I'm not far from home, I've got no tools with me and it's dark. So I figure I'll go for it. As a "professional" I realize the worst that can happen is that I could burn up a set of brake pads, but chances of that are low so it's worth the risk. Not really that big of a deal I suppose. But I do know that I cannot stop the car, if I stop, I will never get it moving again and that means a tow truck. Quickly calculating the time/cost of replacing the pads vs. time/cost of calling a tow truck, I decide to sacrifice the pads. I'll replace them in the morning. I'm a professional, I'm not calling a tow truck. 2 blocks later the rod is applying slightly more pressure than I first thought and the right front wheel starts to grab and lock up. I'm a professional so naturally I throttle in to keep the car moving. 3 blocks now and I realize the rod is applying much more pressure and I'm probably replacing more than just front pads. I can almost see my house... Recalculate: One front rotor vs. cost/time and humiliation of a tow truck, 'cause I just know that driver is going to laugh when he sees the skid marks and the idea of the whole flat bed load up at probably $100 for literally a 30 second tow at this point... No way. I decide I'll eat the rotor cost too. Heavier on the throttle to keep the car moving. One more block and the right front tire is now LOCKED and I'm burning a flat spot in the 255/50/16 BFG Comp T/A, forget the calculation, I'll just buy one of those tomorrow as well. Good thing it's dark, no one can see the smoke. I'm a professional, I'm not calling a tow truck. I'm less than a hundred yards from my house. It takes 2 tries to make the corner on to my street with the rear tires breaking loose as I'm at near full throttle now and both front brakes are completely locked. I no longer have rotating front wheels, they are now more akin to skis on a snowmobile. I'm leaving a trail of rubber from all four tires that Ray Charles could follow, in a heavy fog, at night. How can all this have gone so bad so quickly? It's like one of those disaster movies from the 1970's, the ones that make you say "That could never happen in real life", but it is happening and in real time, it feels like ages but I just left Auto Zone a minute and 30 seconds ago! The front of the car is smoking like a wet pile of leaves on fire, the rears are also billowing smoke from this completely absurd but forced brake torque burnout I'm performing just to keep the car moving. Somewhere in the back of my mind this crazy thought creeps in: "If I was at one of those burn-out shows right now that all the kids are going to, nobody would beat this smoke show! I could probably add another trophy to my shelf!" I realize then that all the burning rubber smoke I've been inhaling must be making me delirious... With only feet left to go, I hit the automatic garage door opener and manage to skid the Vette up the driveway and inside the garage just in time to see the glow of flames from the driver's side fenderwell reflected in my huge Snap-On tool box, the one with the big sticker across the front that says "I'm a Professional, Please Don't Ask to Borrow My Tools". The grease that has boiled out of the wheel bearings onto the red hot rotors has now caught fire on both wheels. I'm a professional, there's no way I'm calling a fire truck. I jump out of the running car as soon as it lurches to a stop and I grab the fire extinguisher off the wall, pop the hood and shoot the flames out but the extinguisher trigger jams and dumps the hole charge on one side only. Damn. The other side is still in flames. Choking and gasping for air, I grope through the smoke for my second extinguisher and, running to the passenger side, I trip over a jack stand, gouging a shriek-worthy hole in my shin but I manage to get the second tiny inferno doused as well. The garage is so full of smoke and fire retardant I can't see anything, but through my red and watering eyes I glare at the car, bleeding and coughing but grinning with the rage of triumph. I made it home, my wife is blissfully unaware of the drama that has just played out so I am still her champion and I can fix all of this because I AM A PROFESSIONAL. Victory is mine and now it's Miller time! That's when I hear two simultaneous loud pops and realize both of the burnt front brake hoses have just burst, instantly releasing the locked pressure on the calipers. My bloodshot eyes bug out like a character on an Ed Roth T-shirt as I come to the full realization that, in my rush to put out the flames, I'd left the still running car in drive and watch in stunned horror as the car launches forward and crashes into my work bench collapsing it onto the hood of the car. Dozens of tools, cans and bottles fall from the bench and the shelf above, using the now angled bench as a spring board to bounce, smash and break all over the hood and windshield of the Corvette. ....and the whole black comedy comes full circle when I notice the last one to drop and spray all over the hood is a full bottle of brake fluid.
..... comprehension and clarity come to me, I no longer hold dominion over all things mechanical. Apparently, never did. I am fortune's fool. A slight whimper escapes my lips as I drop to my knees in shame and admit defeat.
End result: 2 new loaded calipers, 2 new rotors, 2 new front brake hoses, all new front wheel bearings and races, 2 new BFG Comp T/A's, an appointment with the body shop to repaint the hood, two new legs for my broken work bench and a huge mess to clean up in the garage.
Maybe next time I'll call a tow truck.
