These extended threads aren't as popular on the BB as they are some other places on the WWW but I'll play. ;-)

I've been getting grease under my fingernails since I was old enough to know the difference between the box end and the open end. I have always done most things on my cars. Of all the hard won knowledge I've accumulated doing this one event sticks in my mind like no other.

1979. I was 23 years young and traveling cross country on extended leave after returning from a MedCruise deployment. I was in the replacement '73 Porsche 914 that my soon-to-be-but-as-yet-unknown-to-me exwife had purchased after she totaled my 1971 914; while I was at sea. But that is another story entirely. Back to this story...

Passing through Memphis the night before I had noticed a slight growling noise coming from the front. I listened to it for about 1/2 an hour and decided that whatever it was needed attention; it was getting louder. I found the culprit when I put my hand on the LF hub. OUCH! that bearing is HOT. Oh well, here I am east of Memphis on I40. It's dark. I have limited tools with me. It is Saturday night. Get a room.

Next morning I asked the desk clerk if anything was open anywhere. Not to her knowledge. OK. I'll see how far I can get. Not far. Just a few miles up the road the ever increasing volume of the growl became a CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH. End of my travels until this is fixed.

At the next exit there was a Texaco. It was closed. I pulled over to one side so I wouldn't block the pumps and jacked the car up. I got the rotor off and the outer bearing looked OK. But the inner bearing was in pieces. Well, not completely in pieces; the race was still on the spindle. As it turned out, it was REALLY on the spindle. It had heated up, expanded, and moved up the spindle. It was now locked to the spindle. Using every tool at my disposal I was not able to move that race even one micron. I spent the morning prying and pounding and poking.

Meanwhile church had let out. The owner of the station arrived about 12:30 or so and opened up. I took my bearing pieces into him and asked him if there was an auto parts store anywhere nearby. "Naw... but I've got a few things here. Lemme see it." LO AND BEHOLD! He had the bearing on the shelf behind the counter! What an extreme stroke of good luck! Or Divine Providence. Either way, what are the odds of finding a metric bearing in the middle of Nowhere, TN, on a Sunday? Astronomical.

Back to struggling with that bearing race. I had no heat source so I couldn't sweat it off. I couldn't get a good purchase to pry it off. I worked and worked at it. No go. Can't get that race off. By mid-afternoon the temperature was about 90F. I was dirty, sweaty, sunburned, and very frustrated.

Then He arrived. A Man just came up behind me and stood there watching my futile attempts to remove that bearing race. I glanced up into the face of a farmer; obvious from the sun, wind, and work hardened lines. I vividly remember His hands. They were huge, calloused, bear paws. "Howdy", says I. He just nodded. I explained the problem. "I can't pry it off. I can't pound it off. I can't BLAH, BLAH, BLAH". While I was busy explaining what I couldn't do, He did it.

He took the same 12oz ballpein and the same cold chisel I had been using and put them to Work. He layed the flat of the chisel on the spindle and struck it one time. He drove the race UP THE SPINDLE, expanding it and causing it to shatter into two pieces. My jaw must have hit the ground. He accomplished in ONE BLOW what I had not been able to do all day long. By the time I got around to saying "thank you, Sir", He was walking away. He never said a word. I don't know what He was driving. I don't know where He came from. I don't know where He went. I do know I learned about fixing cars that day. And Divine Providence.
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Mr. Shannon DeWolfe -- (I've taken to using Mr. because my name tends to mislead folks on the WWW. I am a 51 year old fat man ;-) -- KD5QBL