Date:         Sun, 31 Mar 96 23:13 CST
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         khooper@wsp1.wspice.com (Ken Hooper)
Subject:      Xper Tune... (tale)


OK. So I'm trying to deal with my wierd noise problem, described elsewhere.
I think to myself, "you know the most expensive single component in the bus
is the transmission because you can't rebuild it yourself." So I decide
that while I'm eliminating variables I ought to change the trans oil
sooner, rather than later. I've been meaning to do it anyway.

But once I spent four hours laying in my mother-in-law's driveway pushing
ninety-weight into the carcass of an automatic stick on a '72 Beetle from
those little quart bottles you buy at the auto parts store. And I'm never,
ever doing that again. I have to find somebody who has one of those groovy
pumps.

This being Sunday, the only place close to me with one of those pumps is
Xper Tune. I know, I know, but I vow I'll hover and condescend to them so
they'll have to do it right.

I drive there, find the service writer, and it's
"yeahwecandothatnoproblemjustpullintothefirstbay."

There are Troglodytes at Xpertune. They live in a cavern underneath the
building. They are the worker bees. At night the managers throw food scraps
down there and run out quickly and lock the doors.

I am hunkered down next to the bus peering at my assigned Troglodyte under
the rocker panel. This is the man I have to watch. He is having a look-see.

He knows I am here but he is ignoring me. Surely he has a lot of customers
who like to hover and meddle. Sometimes if he ignores these customers they
will go away and watch television in the nursery. The Xper Tune nursery.
It's to the left as you walk in.

He is examining the front suspension. I do not know why. He examines the
front suspnsion for a full two minutes, an awfully long time. Aren't these
guys trained to do some sort of twelve-point safety check? Is there
something wrong under there? Maybe I have a ball joint dangling? The man is
*gawking*, his mouth is hanging open. I am prepared for the worst.

"Where the filter at!"

Ah. Ah. He is forced to refer to me. He has been looking for the engine.

"It's a Volkswagen. It doesn't have an oil filter. We aren't changing the
oil," I add helpfully. Maybe if I call him "we" I can get him to cooperate.
"We're changing the transmission lube."

He peers some more. Every movement is grudging. Eventually I persuade him
toward the back of the bus.

"Do you see the transmission?" I am squatting and pointing under the bus
like an idiot.

"Yuh see it." He is looking squarely at the oil sump. "Izzit a stick?"

"Yes," I say, "it's a stick."

"If issa stick we cain do it."

"Of course you can do it. Here is a 17 mm Allen wrench." I brought my own.
Am I a fool? "There is a drain plug <here> and and fill plug <here>...Can I
come downstairs?"

"<mumble> <shrug>"

Underneath they have shelves with oil filters and air filters in white
cartons. You think you're getting name-brand filters at these places? Huh.
But nobody on this list would be caught dead at Xpert Tune. ;)

$35 they charged me for the privilege of showing them how to shoot three
dollars' worth of oil into a VW transmission. Well you can kiss me on a
Sunday, a Sunday...ees very very good.

--Ken
  '71 Bus, '68 Westy