[trackbird]

I decided to check my oil tonight (after seeing low coolant today and a 900 mile road trip last weekend). It was about a quart low (5K miles, better than usual). I go to the shelf and grab the 5 quart bottle of mobile 1 (my wifes car holds 3.2 quarts, so I usually have 1/2 a jug around or so). I start pouring it into the car when it hits me, this is used oil. Somehow, I put a jug of used oil on my shelf (and moved it to the new place, no less) and managed to add about 1/3 quart or so to my car tonight. It is mobile 1, it is probably out of my car, but I still feel pretty dumb for pulling that off.

Just thought I'd share the stupidity, somebody has to.

:stupid:

[jraskell]

Oo. Talking about trucks...

Sophomore in High School. My dad was working LONG hours. Starter went in his F250, so he asked me to swap it out the next day after school. I said sure, no problem, and he leaves me the money to pick up the new starter.

I get home after school with the new starter (heh, the bus actually stopped at the auto parts store so I could pick it up, I had already called ahead and told them to have it waiting for me, one of the very few benefits of living in a small town I guess), and start to work.

It was far more of a PITA than I figured it would be, plus I was still just a pretty scrawny High School teen. Banged up my hands good a few times. Very frustrating. Took me two hours to get the new starter installed. (Oh, and I had originally forgetton to disconnect the battery, so had a brief light show under there as well).

Anyways, my dad gets home a couple hours later. I tell him it's all installed and ready to go. He asks if I started it up. I said no, but everything's hooked up right, it'll just work (I was a typical cocky teen, of course). He tells me to go start it to make sure. He doesn't want to find out first thing in the morning.

I get an attitude. Ok, fine, I'll go show you it's all set. Grab the keys. Go out to the garage, jump in the truck, insert key into ignition, turn to start, and....

proceed to launch the truck right through the back wall of the garage. It was left in gear, without the e-brake on, and I had not disengaged the clutch.

In my defense, I did not have my drivers license yet.

My father comes running into the garage about 5 seconds later. The drivers door is even with the door going into the garage, which is right in the back corner. My head is on the steering wheel, I'm bracing for the verbal assault of my life, and he says, Well, I guess the starter works. I never could tell when my father would be pissed off at something.