Mustang & Fords Oval Office - Ritual Scarification

Back in the October 2006 issue of Mustang & Fords, Editor Mark Houlahan wrote about his knack for self-mutilation while working in the garage. We all have that knack. A screwdriver slips or we bump our head on the hood latch. Even trained professionals never lose the knack. The scarring just shows that we actually work on our cars. That we're not afraid to grab a wrench and at least attempt repairs. Some may be more successful at those repairs, but all of us are valiant for the effort.

We got some painfully-good stories (pun intended) in response to Mark's editorial. First read about the scarification of Mark. Then bask in the pain of others, knowing that you're just one swing of the hammer away from that pain yourself.

Ritual Scarification
by Mark Houlahan

All I wanted to do was disconnect the ground wire for the ECM on my '90 Mustang. That's it. Unplug one simple wire so the ECM could relearn after I installed a new performance chip. How could opening the hood, moving the plastic coil cover, and unplugging one wire cause me to bleed like a stuck pig?

After nearly 25 years of wrenching on cars, I still haven't figured out how the most mundane project can cut me, often without even feeling it. Last week the culprit was a stainless steel beauty cover on the coil-cover housing. It sliced the middle finger on my left hand deeply not once, but twice. It gave me a "beauty" of a cut, that's for sure.

While not every job in my garage has left permanent scars, I do have a few. This includes a big one on my left arm that I got while working on my brother's '65 Mustang back when we were in high school. His Mustang had a 302 in it of some '70s vintage, complete with the factory fan. Many of you may remember that back then Ford had a problem with fans pitching their blades due to rivet failure and vibrations. The 302 in my brother's Mustang had one of those fans with a broken blade. While trying to break free the oil pressure sending unit on the side of the block, I tore open my left arm on the jagged fan blade on the downstroke of the ratchet handle when the sending unit's death grip gave way. I've come to call garage incidents like this the car-guy's version of "ritual scarification"-a rite of passage into auto repair, if you will.

I'm all grown up now, but I'm still hurting myself, so I keep a roll of paper towels on the workbench and duct tape on top of my toolbox. Oh, come on-you've never made a paper towel and duct-tape bandage so you could keep working (or to prevent bleeding on your wife's carpet)?

Of course, injuring oneself doesn't have to mean drawing blood. Over the years, I've clocked my head on numerous hood latches-sometimes it was hard enough that I had to sit down and wait until my vision cleared. I'm a little smarter now (only a little), so I put a tennis ball with a slit in it over the hood latch as soon as I open the hood. It helps soften the blow if I do hit my head, and a bright yellow tennis ball is a visual deterrent as well.

There are some other good tips I've learned over the years, like to prevent busted knuckles when pushing on a ratchet handle, do it with your open palm and not with your fingers wrapped around the handle. Just the other day I thought I could hold a small bracket for our Cobra replica project and drill a hole in it. Sure enough, the drill bit caught and ripped the bracket out of my hand, taking a bit of sacrificial skin with it. Someday I'll buy a vise before I have no fingers left to use it.

Did you know that carburetor cleaner is an effective cut finder? Just in case you weren't sure if you cut yourself or whether that scratch is deep, just spray a little carb cleaner on your hand-you'll know for sure, trust me. When the wife sees me rushing into the kitchen and heading for the sink at anything more than my normal sloth-like speed, I get the ever-so-loving, "What did you do to yourself now?" Sound familiar, fellow wrench-turners?

Then there are the times when you get to use power tools with fast-spinning, cutting implements. There's real fun in those items, let me tell you. After all these years, short of one visit to the E.R. for a metal sliver in my eye, I guess I can consider myself lucky I haven't seriously injured myself.

Feel free to share your worst garage "oops" with me and your fellow readers. I (we) promise not to laugh at you. You know the drill-e-mail us at mustang.fords@primedia.com or slap a stamp on a letter and keep the U.S. Postal Service in business.

How about a first-aid kit?
I read your Oval Office in the October issue and it was deja vu. Great editorial, I had to show it to my wife to let her know I'm normal. You said you needed a vice to hold those pesky parts, I suggest your next purchase be a large first aid kit. I keep one in the garage so I don't have to run through the kitchen, what she doesn't know won't hurt her! And you probably thought I was concerned for your safety!

I will have been married 25 years next summer and my Cobra II is far behind in scoring my injury list. (I've owned it longer than she's been with me, a point also brought out when needed!) If a chore results in an injury you can bet I point that out. I also keep score by the number of stitches and the kitchen sink is way ahead. In 30 years I've only managed 2 finger stitches from a falling flywheel (hint I did it before I was married), but that sink is a dangerous place. Stuff lurks down in the suds. In last 25 years that sink has put 8 in my hand. I'm a career hospital accountant and it takes a lot to get me there wanting to avoid the embarrassment of having every ER nurse come in and say hi, "what did you do to yourself this time!".

Great magazine and how about a few more II's!
David Wilson

Fire in the hole!
I just read your article about "ritual scarification" and had to tell you about one of my more significant battle wounds. Back in the early 80's, I was the proud owner of a '66 Ford Fairlane GT. I built the engine myself, a .030 over 390 running 12.5:1 TRW forged pistons. I was in the process of replacing the head gaskets (can't imagine why) with a broken finger that I sustained at work. It was in a splint with gauze wrap and med tape. Torquing the heads down was a new experience in pain, but I was motivated by the upcoming weekend's racing schedule. The heads that I was using were the 427 Medium Riser units that required 4 bolts per header tube. Needless to say, I couldn't negotiate the header bolts with the splint, so I snugged up the ones that I could reach and "finger" tightened the others. Once I had done all that I could do, I had to wait for help to tighten the rest of the bolts. However, I couldn't wait. I HAD to hear it fire up. 12.5:1 and Cam-2 racing fuel had cast a spell on me that common sense couldn't over power. I hooked up my remote starter switch, turned on the ignition and fuel pump, leaned over the fender, pumped the throttle linkage on the 3 deuces a couple of times and pushed the magic button. On about the third turn of the slowly pumping 390, a fireball about the size of Texas erupted from the slight gap between the head and header flange, engulfing my entire face. I suffered severe burns to my face and eyes, not to mention the new Kojak look I was sporting. These days, my friends think I'm nuts for wearing full welding leathers and hood when starting up a new engine, but they can laugh all they want.

Joe Clinton
St. Louis, Mo.

It's just a flesh wound...
When I saw the duct tape & paper towels, I was reminded of a garage incident a few years ago. Caught the end of my finger with a hammer while making up some battery cables. Went into the house to the sink to rinse the thing off. The whole time thinking, " little lacquer thinner to clean this out, cut off the meat hanging out of the end of my finger, duct tape & blue towels, back together & back to work I go". At this point the girlfriend comes out to the kitchen & turns white...."your going to the hospital" After MUCH discussion....off to the hospital we go. After about a 90 minute wait, I get into the ER. Doctor comes in & shoots the finger with something to deaden it. Comes back in a few minutes later & tells me "the skin on the end of the finger is too thin to stitch back together....so we'll cut off the piece hanging out & use steri strips to hold it back together" Which is what i was going to do (in true gearhead fashion) in the first place.

Girlfriend still has not heard the last of that one. Now I go outside & rinse off if I damage myself. Saves a lot of time.

Regards,
Mike Burke
(Mike works for a company in the automotive industry. We didn't get his permission to mention the company, but maybe that's a good thing for that company., Ed.)

Man VS. Grinder
After reading your editorial on "ritual scarification" in my lastest issue of Mustang & Fords I had to write about my own experience.

Back in 1995 July 4th to be exact I was living 2 miles outside a small town in northern Illinois. I was restoring a 68 4x4 pickup (won't mention brand) and I had the frame and updated drivetrain in place and ready for the body to be put on, lined up to paint. I should mention I had to get this vehicle going as it was our parts hauler and tow vehicle so I got in a hurry. I noticed after installing cab I had 1 new brake line for the brake master cylinder but I needed 2 so looking around I found a fairly new one in a pile of spare parts but it was covered with crud, here comes the good part. I fire up the bench grinder with the wire wheel on it and proceeded to knock off the crud,well the next thing I know the brake line was pulled into the wire wheel along with my little finger. Luckily I had just installed a shut-off switch on the table I made for it, but on the left side, so I had to reach over the grinder to shut it off with my right hand.

Now I am the only one in the garage with my hand in this machine which won't let go so I yank it out blood spurting everywhere and at this time I thought I lost the whole end of my finger. Now I'm the type of person who when they get hurt has to walk it off so I go out of the garage with my right hand holding my left and blood running down both arms I proceeded to walk around a tree in the yard because I thought I was going to pass out and it seemed to help with the pain. My 16 year old son comes out and I yelled for him to get his mom to run me to the hospital I THINK I cut my finger off. She comes flying out of the house trips on the step off of porch falls face first in the gravel driveway, by this time I had the courage to look at my hand and found I had tore the end of my little finger from the last knuckle out away from the bone and it was dangling with just 1 blood vessel holding it to my hand.

So now my wife has picked herself up and got me in her trusty "95" Mustang GT and pulled over to the garage where my son was wandering around the bench grinder not looking to happy, I asked him to come on we have to get to the hospital he says mom told him to find my finger so they could sew it on ( at this time I had to laugh ) I said it's in my hand let's go!!!

Now at the ER, I of course had to get the father of one of my son's friends who's a doctor and who had pulled metal from my eye & other parts of my body so he says sarcastically that I need to find another hobby before it kills me. Then he insisted on my wife & son come look at what I had done to my finger and told my wife he was going to have to remove the finger. This did not set well with my wife so she tells him we were going to Mercy Hospital in my home town of Aurora,Il. to get a second opinion. I should mention we were going to Aurora anyway for the fireworks that nite.

Well the doctor in question wasn't happy about the 30 mile trip to another hospital so he says he will sew it on but it will not have any feeling and the fingernail will never grow, he was wrong on both accounts because I do have feelings in that finger and the fingernail does grow. I learned 3 lessons here:

1. NEVER use a wire wheel on a bench grinder to clean brake lines.
2. ALWAYS ask for a second opinion when it comes to your body parts.
3. I love my wife of 26 years more everyday.

Jim Hamm
Excelsior Springs,Mo

P.S. We made it to the fireworks that nite and to this day I get teased about RUNNING around that tree while holding my bloody hand by my wife and 2 sons.

Step away from the power tool and no one gets hurt!
I read with great delight your Oval Office column in the October issue of Mustang & Fords. Not that I take delight in the injury or humiliation of another human being and fellow car guy but in knowing that I am not the only person who must bleed in order to accomplish anything worth while. I may as well slit my wrists on the way to the garage and get it over with so that I can concentrate on more constructive endeavors once I am working.

I too have attempted to drill out a broken bolt only to have the drill walk off the end of the bolt and through my thumb (I need a vise too). I have also innocently set my hand down to brace myself only to set the heel of my hand on the piece of sharp metal. Even superglue could not stop the annoying flow of blood every time I flexed the joint until I finally decided to drive myself to the hospital for stitches. Ahh but the gods continued to punish me for delaying the trip because as I arrived at the hospital I drove up to the gate which required me to take a parking ticket. Having my left hand all wrapped in a towel and still bleeding required me to reach across with my right hand. Of course my arm was not long enough to reach the ticket, so I threw open the door to grab the ticket only to put a $500 ding in my door on the blasted ticket machine. I wish I had a dollar for every time I have been asked "when was your last tetanus shot?"

Unlike your wife who asks "What did you do to yourself now?" mine discovers I am going out to the garage and she asks me, "Would you like me to call the emergency room and tell them you will be up in a few minutes?" and if/when I do injure myself she says "I don't feel a bit sorry for you" as I am watching my blood drain down the utility room sink. It has gotten to the point that she will not buy me power tools because she can envision all of the ways that I can inflict "ritual scarification".

Thanks again for the reassurance that I am not alone.
Paul Blotkamp

You did what?!
As with most people (?) I have a books worth.. but I'll share one a friend managed....

Many years ago I worked in aircraft resto (the other Mustang). We also restored some guns & used to test them with blanks. One day I arrive at work to find the place looking like a scene from a Charlie Manson night on the town, blood everywhere & no sign of the other guy.

We had a combo 12in disc/8in belt sander. Next to it was a box of "spent" .50 cal brass. My nameless friend had used one of the cartridges as a push stick while sanding something.... except this particular one wasn't spent, it was live & exploded in his hand.

No lasting injury, but some tasty scars in his hands & face from brass shrapnel....The brass casing still sits on the windowsill in the office...

One of mine:
Stripping a 460 while it was mounted on a engine stand. On the bottom of the stand was a 2x3ft drip tray with some oil & coolant in it. On the drip tray was a drain pan full of coolant & oil.... I'm removing one of the heads when I discover this wasn't such a bright idea with one arm in a cast & no grip in my right hand. The head starts to slip when it clears the dowels, I try to stop it but only succeed in slightly slowing it's descent for a moment before it hits the edge of the drip tray.... This launched the drain pan spinning like a tossed coin straight up on the other side of the engine stand. I stand up straight just as the drain pan reaches an altitude higher than the top of the engine block & catch a face full. Left an outline of myself on the garage wall behind me & covered EVERYTHING else in the garage with oil spots....

To quote another friend of mine: "Looks like you're doing the work of two men there son.................... Laurel & Hardy"

Rick Goddard.