October 4, 2007 or 5,000 miles ago. Either one is when I was suppose to get my oil changed. I even got a phone call to remind me to get the oil changed. In October. Now that it is April I am too embarrassed to take it in and get the oil changed. I don't want to hear the tsk-tsk of the German auto mechanic followed by a lecture on how important it is to change the oil in older vehicles.

I guess the procrastination and excuses became too much for my husband. He went and bought all the supplies he would need to change it himself. He had mentioned this Friday night when we were out with friends, but I thought he was kidding. I was telling our friends about the night I went out to the garage and saw TD changing out my spark plugs. The scene did something for/to me and some sparks definitely flew in our house later that night. Now my husband was looking for another opportunity to work on my car. Changing the oil was going to be his Rico Suave move.

On Sunday he got his supplies ready. He jacked my car up crawled underneath and I sat down in the garage to watch him.

I really am not sure of all the steps that were taken while he was beneath my 13 year old BMW convertible but the next thing I know he is holding up an oily hand and saying this is not the oil pan. What? then what is that stuff on your hand? Oh! transmission fluid, then just plug the hole back up and redo I say while I hold up my wedding ring and admire the way the sun makes it sparkle and pop my gum.

Apparently, it is not that easy and he referenced the manual to figure out why my BMW oil pan and transmission pan look the same and is not in the same place like a Honda and how to fill the transmission back up.

The filler cap, or whatever, on the transmission pan is stuck, completely stuck, wrench, hammer, and swearing stuck. He is going to have to take the pan off and refill it then put it back in place while full of hydraulic fluid. This will require more than two hands.

The pan is fastened to the car by SIXTEEN, bolts/screws whatever. SIXTEEN parts that have to be unscrewed while lying on your back with your face 3 inches from a motor that can fall and squish you, dead.

After cursing the sadistic and masochistic tendencies of the Bavarians my darling wonderful fabulous husband had all SIXTEEN bolts/screws off and the pan free. He filled the pan up to the rim with the transmission fluid while I commented on how gross this was and should we wash the pan while it was out. That would be a negative. We both crawled under the car and reattached this wobbly red oily heavy pan back to the belly of the beast.

TD held it in place while I reattached the bolts/screws thingy's. With a ratchet. A ratchet that was so slippery and held in a hand that was dripping with oily nastiness. If the pan moved just a little transmission fluid would spill out and all over us. But I prevailed against adversity and I fastened that pan back onto my car. I did it!! I actually did manual labor on my back and it didn't involve having a baby.

Now the roles were reversed. Apparently the sight of me underneath a car in a wife beater covered in transmission fluid is equivalent to Pamela Anderson running across the beach carrying a life preserver. Next time I might just change the oil before the suggested mileage is up.

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