Fix It Yourself

AC Schnitzer, the famous German tuning house, has recently announced that they will be opening a high-end restaurant above their workshop. The idea, so sayeth the glossy press release, is that deep-pocketed customers will be able to drop off their BMWs to get some extra horsepower shoehorned under the hood, whilst enjoying some chilled-salad-fork-style fine-dining at the same time.

After idly wondering about whether AC Weiner Schnitzel would be on the menu, or whether I could get a 5W-30 truffle oil change, I suddenly came to the realization that this was possibly the stupidest thing I had ever heard in my entire life.

Whatever happened to doing things yourself? Nowadays it seems like every manufacturer has wreathed their engine bays in complicated-looking multi-coloured wiring and masked everything familiar with mysteriously corrugated plastic engine covers.

Oh dear, I just said “nowadays”. It's only one small step further to curmudgeonhood with its “newfangled” and “whippersnappers.”

Still, I stand by my original assertion: there's something to be said for the simpler days of motoring, when each individual component didn't have its own computerized control module. Back then you could just change a wiper blade without having to reinstall and then update the wiper-blade-control-unit driver software.

Now the first thing to do when your car stops working is perform a full system reboot by turning off the car, getting out, closing all the doors, and then getting back in again, but there was a time when even a hamfisted do-it-yourselfer such as myself could successfully attempt a roadside repair.

Once upon a time, all you needed to fix a car was a screwdriver, a monkey wrench, a socket set with not too many pieces missing, a really big hammer, and overconfidence in your own abilities. There was no need for specialized dealer tools that look like R2-D2's arm and cost more than a piano: cars were nothing more than tremendously complicated Mechano sets, just that the wrenches were bigger, and there was more opportunity to get yourself all nice and dirty.

And there were no Wizard of Oz don't-look-behind-the-curtain plastic covers either, just bare greasy metal. Everything was out in the open: there is the manifold, here is the carburettor, there're the valve covers, here's the metal thingy I always burn myself on, there's the bit that goes sproing and flies off into the corner of the shed where you can't find it for three hours. All there; all just begging to be tampered with.

In my opinion, you don't really begin to truly appreciate your car until you've invested a part of yourself in repairing, maintaining or improving it. The part I usually end up investing is the skin off my knuckles, but there's been plenty of times I've sat in the driver's seat, ignition key poised, offering up a silent prayer to Our Blessed Lady of Acceleration that this time it's got to start. When the engine does start, it's the best feeling in the world. All the sore backs, mashed thumbs and gritty eyes disappear in a flood of endorphins, as you stand back to admire your handiwork. Usually at this point you realize that you've forgotten to bolt something extremely important back in, and that you've got to take everything apart again in order to do so, but that's beside the point.

Even with a modern car being crammed full of computing power, there's still plenty for the shade-tree mechanic to try their hand at. I wouldn't really bother with the brakes, as that's how Tim Robbin's character ended up in jail in the Shawshank Redemption, but you could at least learn how to change your own oil. For all the mumbo-jumbo of drive-by-wire, electronic control units and on-board diagnostics, engines are still all about fuel, air and spark. If you can figure out which one of those things is missing, you're halfway there to fixing it.

Leave the big stuff to the professionals by all means, but get out there and get under your car. Take off the plastic engine covers and put them in the recycling bin. Show up to the board meeting with blackened fingernails and a smudge on your nose.

You'll learn how the internal combustion engine works. You'll learn how swearing actually makes pain go away faster. You'll learn what a complicated, fantastic, amazing piece of machinery a modern automobile is.

Best of all, if you know what your mechanic is actually talking about, you'll never end up paying to have your muffler bearings lubricated.