Let's Give The Man A Handle!

A few weeks ago, the outside door handle on T's clowncar broke off. Just snapped, right in her hand. So, her being her, she promptly set about locating a replacement piece, finding out the hard way that finding parts for discontinued, non-classic variety cars is quite the task. She finally found one online & within a few days we had in our hot l'il hands a brand spankin' new handle.

And, me being me, it took me about two weeks to finally get around to installing it.

This is when I found out that her car was apparently designed by evil, sadistic, cranky, flatulent gnomes with teeny, tiny little hands, suffering from hemorrhoids. The same ones, in fact, that designed the engine compartment for my clowncar. I found this out when, after finally figuring out how to take the door panel off, I discovered that, while the makers of the car were kind enough to provide access holes to see the door handle, they neglected to actually place the hole where I could get my hands in to reach the bolts. Yes, I could see almost the entire inside of the door, but the one place that I needed to get to was blocked by a piece of sheet metal.

After fighting to get the last bolt removed (& pretty much destroying the old handle, thus mandating that I had to get the new one installed at all costs), the new handle was set in place, the lock was clipped in & the opening mechanism (that could not, under any circumstances, be removed without destroying the new handle) was attached. It was at this point that another cruel joke was played upon us by the gassy wee folk: one of the bolt eyelets either was bent as I fought to extrude the hidden bolt or came that way as a factory option.

I'm leaning toward the option idea. Stupid farting gnomes...

Needless to say, the handle wouldn't fit properly with only one bolt holding it in. So, what started out as a supposedly simple repair turned into a tug-o'-war with the inside of the driver's side door. Imagine, if you will, trying to fit your hand, while holding a pair of pliers, into a small metal coffee can that had been opened with an old fashioned can opener, so that you felt every single, jagged piece of metal stab into your wrist as you tried to turn your hand around. I'm surprised that T & I didn't lose consciousness due to the severe bloodloss we experienced. I know we were both a little woosy after we finished.

Anyway, after about three hours of pushing, pulling, bending, twisting & praying, we finally, FINALLY got the stupid holes to line up & finished the installation of the doorhandle from Hell. After many test openings & closings, I can, for possibly the first time in my entire life, claim that a job that I did on the car is 100%, completely finished.

I am Man; hear me whine!