Terminal-nator

As a general rule, I enjoy working on cars and take any opportunity to abandon the lofty pursuit of "The Law" and drag my knuckles a little bit. My talents are generally limited to minor diagnostic work and replacing whatever parts I can reach with a wrench. Case in point, yesterday:

My roommate's car wouldn't start on Wednesday, but by the time I got home it was too late to work on it. He assured me that it was the battery (which it was... he's an adept waiter/ballet dancer/mechanic) and I told him that after my early class yesterday I'd come help him switch it out. It should have taken ten minutes and restored my confidence in the therapeutic powers of the socially acceptable form of exercising one's wrist.

After class I hurried home so that we could get the battery change out and I could hit the gym and the books (although generally I don't "hit" the gym... it's more of an open handed swat and technically I'm pretty sure the books hit me). By the time I get home and the roommate and I are ready to exert our mastery over the flow of electrons it's nearly 10:00. Plenty of time.

The battery on the roommate's car (a 1992 Chevy Lumina Z34... think Days of Thunder) has side terminals. For those of you uninitiated in the world of psuedo-mechanics and unnecessary masculine posturing that requires refusing to recognize the outer limits of one's own ability, I'll try and explain the difference. The most common type of car batter in passenger cars is a top terminal battery. This aptly named battery has two metal posts that poke through the top of the batter and which are used to complete a circuit which powers the car. If you've ever had to use jumper cables, the terminals are what you connect the jumper cables to, especially if you ignore that whole "grounding" thing.

A side terminal battery doesn't have posts that stick out. Rather, to save space, you screw bolts into metal receptacles on the sides of the battery. Unfortunately for us, one of the bolts on this car is completely stripped. The bolt is completely round like a pencil eraser. This is bad because now we can't get the bolt out, which means we can't change the battery, which means that in order to pay rent, the roommate was going to have to borrow my car to get to work.

At this point, overconfidence and pride prevent us from even thinking about calling a professional. I mean, it's a battery and we're two relatively smart young men with wrenches. As my roommate noted, "there can be only one."

The first idea to pop into our heads was to use the new and exotic tools that I had gotten for Christmas. (Thanks Dad). So I break out the Craftsman locking vice grips. These are very similar (although in my opinion superior) to vice grips. Essentially they're pliers that can be locked to constantly put a great deal of pressure on anything that is deemed to be uncooperative. In this case, it's the bolt.

After failing miserably because the bolt has gotten soft, the roommate gets the great idea to try to pry off the bolt. Before I know it, he's got a flathead screwdriver and is prying at the terminal. This ultimately succeeds, that is if you consider popping out the entire terminal leaving a hole in the side of the battery success. That wasn't the point, however, because now we can get the batter out (and, courtesy of the hole, slosh acid all over everything.). Quick, to Wal-Mart.

The roommate is smart. He bought the battery almost three years ago at a Wal-Mart in Ohio and saved the warranty and the receipt. So we get to the Wal-Mart automotive department and throw the battery up on the counter. We are greeted by two gentlemen who look like they just missed qualifying to run the key duplication machine. The roommate asks them to test the battery, noting his belief that it's no good. It's important to point out that there is absolutely no reasonable method of testing the battery because, as I said, the roommate had removed one of the terminals. The Wal-Mart gentlemen don't seem to care and walk out to the shop and put it on the testing machine.

The Wal-Mart employees realize that they are now in too deep and call for backup. Fresh from the local joint vocational school, the manager shows up and examines the machine. Despite his gold tooth and Jesse "the Body" Ventura haircut he does not have much of a sense of humor. He confirms the original employee's suspicion that it is not, in fact, possible to test the battery. The discovery of this fact annoys everyone in a blue vest.

The manager comes and talks to the roommate. He says "this isn't normally covered under the warranty. I'm willing to zero it out for you this time because you have your receipt and the warranty, but don't bring us one back like this." Neither the roommate nor I know what "zero it out" means, but it sounds good for the home team. The manager continues quasi-berating us because "batteries don't usually break off like this," but as long as he continues the process of getting us a new battery we don't care. The roommate and I ultimately triumph without me having to use the few lawyerly words I know, like "breach." Sam Walton = 0, The roommate and the Staffman = 1.

So we have the new battery. At this point we're about 45 minutes into the whole process and feeling pretty good, because this should be an easy process. Also, I have yet to see what has actually happened to the terminal of the battery.

We get back to the parking lot of our apartment complex and begin, contrary to the apartment rules, to work on the roommate's car. It's not until he opens the hood and pulls out the positive battery cable, the one that still contains the old batteries metal terminal on its end, which I start to suspect we're in for a long, humbling journey to a professional.

Again we try the channel locks, thinking that because we can apply one set of channel locks to the stripped bolt and one to the old terminal, we'll be able to actually unscrew the terminal from the bolt. This, like my love life, fails miserably. There are three roads we can take: 1. attempt to cut the wires or remove the end of the batter cable and attach a new one. 2. try to cut through the bolt and save the old batter cable end. 3. seek professional help. If you said option number 2, you are correct.

Safety first. As a gift, one of my girlfriends gave me a set of Mechanix gloves, which I had yet to have a reason to use. I collect the gloves and a hack saw and the roommate and I set to sawing through about an inch and a half of steel and whatever the terminal is made of. The gloves are key. Because of the angle and short length of the cable I have to hold the bolt in my palm and saw down. Prior to doing this I tested the gloves, which were more than capable of withstanding the saw blade. I cannot recommend wearing gloves like these when foolishly trying to saw through something. They saved at least two of my fingers.

Literally an hour goes by while we try to saw off the bolt. This hour is spent alternating between cursing, discussing ridiculous alternatives, thanking god I had the gloves, and wishing we had more power tools. The roommate and I take turns hacking away at the bolt.

Finally, we manage to cut through the bolt and half of our problem falls to the floor like a discarded banana peel. Unfortunately, like a discarded banana peel on the floor, we have a whole new set of problems. It turns out that the bolt was actually fused to the cable with corrosion. Quick, to Auto Zone.

We buy Rust Eater. This product eats rust and skin and anything else it comes into contact with. Back to the apartment.

We apply the rust eater to try to free the bolt and solve our problem. We wait an hour. We eat old pizza and generally curse side terminal batteries and General Motors (consciously excepting the Corvette from Chevy. Neither the roommate nor I can bring ourselves to curse the Corvette.).

We return putting our hopes and prayers into the rust eater. The corrosion was gone, so now we have a very shiny, fused half of a bolt and battery cable. The roommate takes a screwdriver and a hammer and tries to beat the bolt out of the terminal. No such luck. The roommate and I agree: God may hate Chevy Luminas. Okay, we're back to the planning point. Option 2 is gone which leaves us with: 1. change the battery end and 3. get professional help. All those that chose 1, you win.

In order to remove the cable end, I have to pry open the bottom part of the cable end. No biggie. I easily remove this part. Next I have to remove much larger clamp like pieces of metal that have adorned this wire since 1992. This is much more difficult. The only thing I can think to do is to use a hammer and a screw driver to try to loosen these larger clamp pieces.

Needless to say I'm frustrated. Wailing on the cable seemed like a good way to relieve some frustration. The wailing began. Halfway through I realize that I am making little process and am preparing myself mentally for the fact that I will not have a car for the evening. However, pride will not allow us to give up, and we are completely invested in this project. It is now 2:15.

In the middle of the severe beating I was giving the batter cable, my roommate starts screaming. I thought a piece of metal had hit him, or he'd cut himself playing with the saw, or he'd found religion. The truth was much better. Sometime during my fruitless attempt to remove the cable end, the bolt had fallen out of the battery cable. Chevy Lumina = 34, The roommate and the Staffman = 1.

After we had a free cable, putting in the battery was a snap. Throw the thing in, slap a few bolts into the side, and mock General Motor's failed attempt to force us into option 3. professional help.