“David, I have a meeting Saturday. Are you cool to look after Delmar (not his real name) for a few hours?” my wife Elise (not her real name) asked me last week. “Of course!” I replied. “Should be no problem!” The only problem was, I had to do an oil change on my BMW i3S; surely this would be fine, right?
Raising an infant is hard. Much harder than I had initially thought. They need your time — always. They’re basically little barnacles clinging to you or your spouse or your caretaker 24/7. It’s truly remarkably how helpless a four-month old baby is compared to, say, a four-month old kitten, who can climb trees and hunt mice and probably do taxes.
This all became extremely apparent during my routine oil-change session on my BMW i3S. No, I’m not talking about my ridiculous transmission IV-drip situation, I’m talking about changing the oil on the 600cc two-cylinder motorcycle engine — the range extender. That process involved simply taking off the trunk floor and engine cover, removing a drain plug, removing an oil filter, reinstalling both, then spinning on a fresh filter (with lubed o-ring) and pouring in three quarts of fresh oil. That’s it.
It’s the easiest job in the book, which is why I figured I could just sit baby-Delmar outside on his little rocker while I quickly slid under my range-extended carbon fiber commuter car; and I’d be done before he even noticed.
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When I approached Delmar and proposed my plan, he didn’t have a whole lot to say. There he sat in his rocker-chair, bouncing back and forth, eyes laser-locked on me, following me around. He was bored. He wanted me to pick him up and walk him around. And sing Elton John’s “Sad Songs (Say So Much)” to him. And dance like a fool. And do my admittedly-excellent Mickey Mouse or Goofy voices.
“Those are good ideas,” I replied to a baby who hadn’t actually said anything. “But, what if, instead of those, I drain probably-perfectly-good oil out of an engine I barely use, install a filter I spent far too many hours researching on Bob Is The Oil Guy, and then pour in some 0W-30 that I also spent far too much time researching? How does that sound?”
There he sat, bouncing, his giant beautiful eyes just wanting to hang out with me.
I took that as a yes.
And so outside into the driveway we went, him strapped into his bouncy-chair, and me quickly jogging over to my BMW i3 up on ramps. I took my BMW i3’s cargo area floor/engine insulator out, then grabbed my torx wrench and began zipping off the i3’s engine cover. I peeked around the C-pillar; Delmar seemed to be doing OK. One by one, I took out the torx screws, frusted that BMW had used some strange rubber nuts that tended to spin in the carbon fiber body, requiring me to somehow hold them in place to get the screws out. “Hey baby Delmar!” I yelled to let him know I was still there. I zipped the last few screws out, then took off the oil fill cap.
Then I slid under my i3. “Hey Delmar!” I yelled. “My cute baby boy!” Lying on my back, I looked around my rear wheel to see Delmar sitting there quietly, looking at his surroundings. “Whew, it’s going well,” I said to myself as I grabbed a 14mm wrench, undid the drain plug, and watched as fresh amber oil poured into a dirty catch-pan. “Drain drain drain!” I exclaimed to the 2.75 quarts of oil taking their sweet time exiting my engine.
I heard commotion around my rear wheel; I took a peek. Delmar was bouncing around, his head panning and pitching, his legs kicking. “There comes a time when we all need to share a little pain!” I sang aloud. “When ironing out the rough spots…is the hardest parts when memories remain!”
No change. “Oh drat, that always works!” I thought.
The oil was now dripping slowly enough for me to reinstall the plug with a new copper gasket. I tightened that, then began removing the oil filter. “Son of a bitch! Who cranked this stupid filter on with all their might? Why!? Haven’t we been through this!” I yelled. “Sunova b—”
Before I could continue my curse-therapy, I began hearing some noises coming from a certain bouncing chair-ish area. I peeked my head out from under my car.
I was on borrowed time.
“Shit, come on oil filter!” I exclaimed as I twisted the damn metal can with both hands as hard as I could. “Whichever technician did this deserves a lifetime of misfortune, Hecter Zeroni style!” Try as I might, this thing wasn’t coming off.
But it didn’t matter, because at this point Delmar was pissed. “WAAAAAA WAAA” he yelled. “BANG!” I hit my head on the bottom of my i3 as I hurriedly arose from the oily driveway and rushed over to the displeased fruit of my loins.
“Hey baby Delmar!” I said calmly as I picked him up. He immediately stopped crying. We went inside, and I placed him down on his playmat, only to see a big stain of what appeared to be 5W-30 on his forehead.
“Oh no, Elise is going to kill me!” I ran to grab some Dawn dishsoap, and as soon as I left the room Delmar started crying. Then I realized I can’t put dish soap on a baby’s head (can I? Who the hell knows) so I ran around to find his baby-shampoo. “WAAAA” Delmar yelled impatiently, probably wondering why the hell his forehead now contained a boundary layer, and also wondering what the hell I was doing.
“One second!” I yelled. “Turn ’em on, Turn ’em on, turn on those saaaad songs!” I yelled, desperately.
I grabbed the soap from the bathroom. “Oh crap I need paper towels.” I ran back to the bathroom, Delmar still crying.
Eventually I got the oil off his head, and I calmed him down. For the next two hours he held onto me like a barnacle. I played him songs, I danced like a fool, I fed him — it was a nonstop job, and an opportunity to realize just how stressful these past four months have probably been for my wife Elise as I was off at work. I couldn’t even do half an oil change; I had to be really careful handling him with my oily hands (their typical state) and I still screwed up; and when I did get Delmart to fall asleep, that little orange cat we adopted from my dilapidated Jeep Grand Cherokee in the work parking lot meowed and meowed, threatening to awaken Delmar and cut short my rest.
Raising a baby is hard, and wrenching on cars while doing it is going to be extremely difficult; it will rely heavily on the hard work of my dear wife, for whom I am immensely grateful.
If you just leave him out in the sun and heat, he’ll eventually stop crying.
(JOKE JOKE JOKE JOKE JOKE, I’m joking)
Good news is they can start to work tools themselves in a few years. We had to swap out the back tire on my kid’s bike this week after a few too many skids, I just got him to do most of it himself.
I see the Baby Industrial Complex has got to you! Don’t worry, a little bit of Dawn is fine on a baby, just keep it out of his eyes. A wet cloth with a bit of the soap and a rinse will do the trick no problem. Remember, humans have raised babies for literally millions of years and washed them just fine without special baby wash. Also, eventually, the monkey-see-monkey-do thing will kick in with a garage kid and extreme cuteness will ensue. I once found my daughter under her trampoline and when asked what she was doing, she informed me it was actually an Alfa Romeo, not a trampoline; she was installing a squirrel and asked me to give her an imaginary screwdriver.
You trained her well, then! Lol
That kid is smart.
Squirrels are an oft-neglected part on Alfa Romeos. Probably how they got an ill-deserved reputation. Your daughter is wise beyond her years.
True story: when my eldest was just walking, I had him in my driveway while I repacked a set of bearings.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him grab a big handful of grease. It was a half inch from his mouth when I caught him. To be fair, the grease was a similar color to raspberry jelly…
He turned out all right, doing an engine swap on his first car, and helping friends with oil changes and brakes.
Red ‘n’ Tacky?
The foam thing?
Whilst quite young, I was a nanny, by young I mean under 20. I had no idea what I was doing, except that fire juggling was going to need more practice. So I looked after tiny people, Mothers are so close to deities in a way that men cannot comprehend.
check list,
Has your wife tried to stab you?
Have any important bits of the house caught fire?
Have you put the rubbish out (it is bin day tomorrow)?
Is the baby happy ( you know , not screaming for something ?
Is the cat happy ?
Do you sometimes get a sort of daft look, a warm but inexplicable feeling that life is really rather good?
Babies are resilient, and a little crying while you collect yourself doesn’t hurt them.
You guys are doing great.
The hardest part, I found, was quelling my own anxiety. Kiddo has been just fine through it all.
Exactly
David, there are photos of you on the Internet with a transmission in your dishwasher. If Elise was not expecting an oily baby, she is a foolishly optimistic lady.
Hand waving away the fact that we are the equivalent of a rusty project car to them. Be prepared for the ‘look’ followed closely by the ‘silence’.
If it wasn’t for the baby monitor while my daughter was napping, I wouldn’t of gotten anything done. That’s the thing with raising kids, you just make thing up as you go, and be prepared for Plan B…or G.
A lack of Plan B might be why you have the baby in the first place!
Video baby monitor is a great invention. So much getting stuff done (ok video games or reading mostly) while my older one slept. My youngest wasn’t a big long napper, and his brother was 3 when he was born, so that get stuff done during naps wasn’t nearly as much of a thing.
But by the time they were 3 and 6 they could both entertain themselves or watch me work on stuff.
Yeah nap time is when you get things done at that age. When they are up, nothing gets done. They are also too young to be entertained by TV.
When the nieces and nephews were very small, the in-laws always had some form of baby wipes at the ready.
As the kids got older and less messy, they continued to have baby wipes around due their near-mythical capabilities at cleaning all sorts of things.
Also I think the exersaucer thing has casters on it but I don’t remember if it has a parking brake like you would find on a tool cart. A set of Harbor Freight wheel chocks will keep the youngster where you can see him. 🙂
We also kept baby wipes around for another 10 years at least. Thinking now, I don’t know why I ever stopped buying them. They do seem to clean everything.
Our youngest offspring is now nearly 30.
Meanwhile, we still keep baby wipes in the house.
Although we also keep cats, and baby wipes work equally well for messes of both human and feline origin…
David, just remember your adorable son doesn’t need his oil changed!
Maybe not, but there are consistent leaks & emissions that need tending to.
Babies are absolutely not CARB compliant
Welcome to the panic of parenting. You get used to it eventually.
As somebody with no children, all I can add to this is, “Sucks to be you?”
I miss the old David Tracy articles about Jeeps and oil and rust. I’m looking forward to an automotive article that doesn’t involve being a dad.
Sorry if that’s callous, but at least I could relate to the old Michigan-based articles.
Well, Mercedes is still around writing from the Midwest so I can still chuckle once in a while as I relate to something she’s written.
SWG articles should also suit your interest, I would think.
You know, life, and David’s life too, is as continuously variable as the Jatco Xtronic CVT itself.
I sure hope David’s (or anyone else’s) life isn’t as sucky as the Jatco Xtronic CVT.
🙂
I’m honored that you miss my classic wrenching pieces. They were lots of fun to write; I probably published 1,000 wrenching stories of the past decade or so. Co-founding this publication has required me to focus less on wrenching, as you might imagine, but the result is that we have a great platform on which we can share great wrenching voices like SWG and Charles. We’re always looking for more freelance wrenchers!
I’ve been wondering about this exact thing. If I were to write up some stuff from my various adventures (and 20 years in the trucking/public transit maintenance industry), where would I send it to see if you’re interested?
David, sleep-deprived or not, showing the attitude and grace we love him for. David, I imagine you may have had a first-draft response to this :-). I remember 25yrs ago at a small startup, we had a sign over the desktop PC that was logged into the account we used for customer support email responses: “There is a 1hr waiting period on sending any support responses”
My 5s response when I first started seeing the Delmar/wrenching posts was indeed a form of grieving for what we may have lost in terms of wrenching articles. This post makes me interested to see what is to come. I expect before long, David to be wrenching with a Baby Bjorn and Delmar (not his real name) to be grabbing for tools.
Life and people don’t stay the same. I miss the days when I was single and could spend a weekend hiking some sketchy trail and not worry about anything else. Now I’m watching my youngest try a BMX track for the first time, and my eldest try cooking. It’s different, but not bad.
I’m looking forward to other new writers join and share their experiences!
So you can only relate to childless midwestern automotive reporters. Sounds like you are woefully lacking in empathy bro.
This is the part in three stooges episodes where mischief ensues.
Cue theme music!
David, as the dad of a 5 and a half and 2 year old, you’re doing great. We accidentally spilled a martini on my oldest’s head when he was 4 months old and he is perfect five years later. Keep it up, I can tell you’re an amazing father.
Has he displayed a fondness for olives ever since?
If not, give him another splash!
Dawn dish soap is what they use on seagulls and otters and ducks and seals caught in Exxon Valdez and Gulf of Mexico-type oil spills.
I’m sure it will be fine w/ DelMar and his oil-spills/blowouts.
That said: Child care is literally a full-time/full-attention caregiving job.
If you had a nanny – would you feel good about her changing her oil while being sole-caregiver for your infant child?
Moonlighting as a shade-tree mechanic w/ fresh infant in the house is not a thing.
Wait a few months – then teach him how to wash the wheels (like my Dad did) and hand you the 6mm socket (No DelMar – that’s a power hedge trimmer…)
Kudos on singing.
Be prepared for “Baby Shark”
My dad got me started at 6 when he put me on the bumper of his Ranger and had me change the distributor cap and rotor for him. And then help him swap a muffler on my mom’s car a bit later that year.
It’s not a full-attention caregiving job. Parents have other stuff to do. And it’s okay to put a baby in a carrier/swing/whatever somtimes so you can get shit done.
David, two things:
1) Nap time is your friend, and precious. Use it wisely.
2) Delmar time is far more important than any oil change, or any other chore. You can change oil later. Time with them, once gone, is gone for good and cannot be recovered.
David listen to this man. My 18 month old already doesn’t want me to rock her to sleep anymore. We finish books and she points to her crib and says “bed!” I never thought I’d say it but I miss the 4 am snuggles.
This is absolutely true, but I also remember how long those baby care days seemed, and the itch to get SOMETHING done. As they say, the days go by so slowly and the years go by so fast.
Total opposite opinion here. I don’t miss the baby days at all. The day both my kids could get their own glass of water was a watershed day and it only has gotten better.
Looking back, do I wish I wasn’t so tied up in work so I could “be there” for everything? Not really. Am I happy I sold my soul while they were young so I can help them follow their passions now? Absolutely.
Amen, Abe. The “every moment is precious” crowd is kind of tiresome to me.
If Dawn is safe to clean baby ducks covered by oil slicks, it’s probably ok for Delmar, too. (The preceding statement is intended for entertainment purposes only and may not be construed as either medical or legal advice.)
Isn’t baby shampoo so it doesn’t irritate their eyes? So don’t get any soap in his eyes, and you’ll be fine.
Baby shampoo is hard to find these days – sourcing babies for its manufacture is a lot more difficult than it used to be. Dawn’s available in damn near every grocery store out there.
Sappy, sentimental comment follows: David, “sing Elton John’s Sad Songs (Say So Much) to him”…. Take it from someone who spent way too much doing other things,. This is the most important thing. Time with your kid is time extremely well spent, cars will come and go. Years from now, you will cherish every moment you devoted to your children.
Tell us again how you are going to finish that XJ build, and the ZJ build, and the J10 build.
It’s even worse than you imagine. He’s David. He’s probably got five other things happening we haven’t even heard about yet.
You know just like any project with kids he’ll get to it when things calm down*.
*calm down is in reference to when they move out. She’s may range from 18-45. Results may vary.
As the great philosopher, Mike Tyson, once said “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth”.
Everybody hath* a plan.
Yep, honestly, he should find some long term storage for them, set them on jacks with a fresh oil change, and then not expect to touch them for at least 5 years.
Not that you shouldn’t have hobbies, but at this stage you’re getting things done in bits and pieces, and it’ll take a long time.
The secret, when he’s out of diapers (or at least in pull-ups) is to let he and the cat become best buddies. They’ll both be clever, inquisitive, and energetic. What could possibly go wrong?
Ask my wife, whose dad was frequently away in the military, whose mom wasn’t particularly child-rearing focused, but who had an orange kitty as her best bud and confidant…
She turned out fine… Although she she’s a bit attuned to hearing and smell, will snub a salad in favor of a good steak or fish or poultry dinner, and is quite eager and adept at reaching things in high places — but tends to need my assistance to get back down. And slightly obsessive about keeping her hair neat. Oh, and she learned at an early age that “No” means not when anyone is looking. Perfectly normal childhood. With many stories of combined feline + small human mischief-making.
I tease her routinely with “Were you raised by a cat?” Which she can confidently answer with, “Why yes, why do you ask?”
Rule of thumb(s)
When you are taking care of an infant never get stuff on your hands like petroleum, paint, photo chemicals, or printer toner that you wouldn’t want to get on the baby. Don’t carry or hold anything that you cannot drop where you are standing without setting the house on fire or calling a hazmat team. Wearing appropriate footwear if you need to carry an infant RIGHT NOW.can take a minute or more off the time to respond to an emergency.
And dishsoap is fine.
Was that new or used oil? Used stuff is nasty
My parents had 5 girls all under the age of 5 at one time. I don’t know how they managed that, and I feel sorry for my dad about having so many pubertal girls in the house. They should be nominated for sainthood or something like that.
We had a bottle of mercury. I’m not sure why. I played with it often.
This comment brought to you by a first year Gen Xer. Our parents gave no fucks about anything. They were busy sipping cocktails and fooling around with each other. True story.
My parents were kind of old to have had me in 1974. By the time my living memory kicks in, their idea of “fooling around” was falling asleep to Johnny Carson.
Remember, babies can pick up two languages as easily as one! You should be swearing around him in German.
Naptime is your friend at the wee stage.
In a few months when exersaucer time begins, that’s go time for projects. Plop it a reasonably safe distance from what you’re working on, make sure the kid can see you and they’ll generally be chill.
Things get worse again when they get mobile.
You know that saying about learning to walk before you run? In my daughter‘s case was absolutely not true. She would haul herself up to standing with a piece of furniture, then hurl herself across the room running until she found something else to grab hold of.
In her case, it was learn to run, learn how to stand still, then she sort of combined them into walking, but that came a while later.
Those bouncy swing things you put in the doorway work well too.
Did the baby distract you half way through making the thumbnail too? 😉
Just wait until they start walking. At 1 y.o. I could barely let the dogs back in without Winnebago (NHRN) yeeting off the couch into the pointy side of the coffee table. He’s 2.5 now, no way I could get an oil change done with him present. I can’t mow the lawn without him coming out and demanding to push the mower!
The world needs more good people. Thanks to you & missus for doing the hard work.