“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.
“his forehead now contained a boundary layer”
Being immersed in air, he already had one 😉
Delmar content is cute, but I’m here mostly for the Jaws updates.
Cats >> Kids
David, are you smoking crack? Just over 20 years is how much time I placed ‘on hold’ for all serious car work after I had kids (the last one just graduated up at UC Berkeley). Between being burned out and tired all the time, and not having the proper funds to do what I wanted, my cars just sat with minimal maintenance. That is until now. She’s moving out, decent starting job. No more tuition, housing, food, books, etc. No more responsibilities. I’m free.
I know it is a bit old school but at 4 months shouldn’t little Delmar NHRN have like a job by now?
Can’t even be bothered to hold a flash light. Kids these days!
This sounds like the plot of some wacky 80’s comedy about a dad who was recently laid off from his mechanic job and has to take care of the kids while his high-powered executive wife goes to work
Weren’t Steve Guttenberg and Sigourney Weaver in this?
Don’t feel bad. I have 5 kids and have got greasy handprints on all them at one point or another. Oh and for those who say let the kid get involved or help. It depends on the kid. Of mine 2 would help, 2 would cause trouble and make a huge mess and 1 would have no interest.
Dude, don’t listen to the people saying it gets worse when they’re mobile. Those people are wrong. You have the DIY skills to give … why are we calling him Delmar? I think I’m going to call him Bob. You have the DIY skills to give Bob a safe play area with a baby gate. Once he outgrows that he’ll be old enough that you can talk through why his current idea is terrible and will result in getting hurt.
In a few more months you’ll be able to do a little more while watching the baby. Around 9 or 10 months he’s easier to entertain – make a silly noise and he’ll make a game of trying to mimic it. Give him a cup full of cheerios and let him
scatter them everywhereeat them bit by bit. He doesn’t need a bottle nearly as often.Hang in there. Sometime around 6 or 7 months I remember looking back and thinking “This hasn’t gotten easy, but it’s not nearly as hard as it was.” Then again at 9 or 10 months, “Hey, this has gotten less hard again.”
Oh and I’ll put this in a reply instead of an edit: In a few months your baby will start licking the floor. Eventually he’ll crawl into the bathroom and start eating toilet paper, then get distracted and lick the toilet bowl.
Around this time your life will get easier – not because licking floors and toilet bowls inherently makes life easier, but because your wife will give up trying to keep everything sterile for him. Her standards will slowly drop – trust me – and you’ll stop getting in trouble for imperfectly cleaned bottles, reused spit rags, etc.
That’s why he needs a place with a garage. Mount a bouncy swing to the ceiling strap him in secured and bam the kid is going nowhere. Just keep an ear out in case it gets quiet.
> Once he outgrows that he’ll be old enough that you can talk through why his current idea is terrible and will result in getting hurt.
Kids are notorious for their listening skills, especially when it comes to parental advice and caution…
I don’t get the “Delmar” thing either. Tracy Jr. is right there.
Next up is a deep dive into baby strollers. Hey, it’s a passenger carrying vehicle. Four wheels or eight? Best tire size, hard or soft? Stroller or wagon? How much onboard storage is really necessary? Flip top or retractable? Stroller car seat combo? Air suspension or not? Comfort features most babies love?
Oh man I have opinions.
At the infant stage it’s easiest to just get the baby bucket car seat and whatever stroller it clips into. These are bulky and don’t travel well, but they make it far easier to get out of the house with your baby – and you’ll need to get out of the house.
Jogging strollers suck, but if you like running they are a necessary evil. If you jog outside, get a used jogging stroller once the baby can sit up. You need the big wheels and the locking front steering to be safe at anything above walking speed. You can get exercise in while your wife doesn’t have to tend the baby. But don’t expect a good jog. You’re going to kinda hate jogging with the stroller, but entertaining the baby while you exercise makes it worth it.
Past that? Eff it, get the cheap umbrella stroller. Everything else is so bulky that you’re going to hate loading it in and out of the car. The umbrella stroller actually fits in your trunk. Do you need storage? Take a backpack. You need a diaper bag anyway. Just throw everything in a backpack.
As the proud co-producer of 3, I wholeheartedly second all of this.
Bigger wheels than are even available today. I remember the one we used forever when I was a kid (I am 3rd out 4 kids), and I would say the wheels were at least 12 inches diameter, but more like pizza cutters than all terrain.
If I could get that today in an inflated (not tubeless!) AT, say 15×3.5R12, it would be the bee’s knees. The unsprung weight of the wheel is real, though. They would need to be light, strong, and tolerable to look at.
A second strong point would need to be the handles. I would want an option for low caster and handles like racing street bicycles so I can lean on it and have it bear my weight. It would also need to click back to about 30 degrees of caster for uphill and speed. Not infinitely adjustable, just one or two click settings. Handlebars need my drink holder, kid’s drink holder, and snacks for both of us
Under-seat storage needs to be at least 30 inches long, 16 inches wide, and 10 inches tall. That will get you most parcels while shopping.
Seat needs to pop out with one hand and go directly into the base in the car. I would love the 5-point harness to have a single pull-to-tighten point, but, hey, we can all dream. Improved design for the elbow-carry; it is kind of mailed in right now, and I’m not with it.
NOTE: I am talking about double strollers here (front to back, not side-by-side). Any single stroller that could be made modular and allow double stroller attachments would be mana from heaven.
Oh David, David, David. You’re just getting started.Wait until Delmar (not his real name) is mobile. You’ll realize very quickly it’s a miracle any of us reach adolescence. Mobile babies and toddlers actively seek out their own demise constantly. It’s terrifying how many creative ways they can nearly get themselves killed!
The funny thing is, this is the point, where when you put a child down somewhere, you know where they are. Very soon they’re going to be mobile and you need to Pen them in to do anything. We went thru this twice with a mother in law who needed care.
Ah the “joys” of parenthood.
Agree with TheDrunkeWrench. Nitrile gloves when wrenging on the car. Makes a huge difference. I also wear gloved when I cook with hot peppers. That one time i rubbed my eye after dicing a bunch of jalapenos, even after washing my hands…yikes.
For sure! I keep a box of them under my passenger seat, I use them all the time. I also have a box in the kitchen I use when I cut and handle raw chicken (gross!).
And cardboard under the drain pan. If you’re making a giant oily mess on yourself, either:
1) You’re doing it wrong
2) You’re cursed with a car that’s nearly impossible to change the oil on and remain clean (looking at you, ’95 F150 4×4)
Usually it’s 1).
But yeah, gotta protect your skin…consider it standard PPE. Just like how I use ear plugs for pretty much everything even remotely loud, including vacuums and drills.
I got a good piece of advice before our little one was born: in that first six months don’t expect to be able to finish any task that you start. It does get better after that though. And don’t let anyone tell you that you’ll miss the first few months once they get older – it’s some sort of evolutionary mechanism that makes you forget just how damn hard it is in those early days just so you won’t balk at the possibility of doing it all over again. I can see myself missing his current age though (around 20 months), it’s just amazing seeing him learn something new every day that he adds to his repertoire.
My daughter’s first six months are exactly why we made her the last of 3. She DID. NOT. SLEEP. for 6 solid months, so neither did we.
InvivnI’s got it right – and we’ve told our friends (although we’re out of the range where the majority of our friends are having new babies) that it is totally okay that you may spend the first 6mo with a mixture of “I don’t like you”, esp with the first one. Obviously, be sure to be talking with your partner (assuming that’s an option) to make sure that it isn’t a more serious mental issue (post-partum is real, people), but for me, the “wonderful little baby” months were not that, and it’s okay.
Training David Tracy is difficult.
Dawn dish soap, OK for babies, don’t get it in their eyes, rinse well.
I always figure on by hand, off with a wrench for oil filters, that’s just the way it is always. Be equipped, don’t wake the baby, don’t blame the tech for normal science, emergency, emergency hammer and the Philips screwdriver, quietly.
David, I have 3 tips to make this easier to deal with. Take them for what you will.
Hard to do, but it actually ends up being a case where any task you may have used to do by memory now needs a checklist. Nothing fancy. Just writing down or photographing each step so that when you are inevitably interrupted, you can remember what you did and didn’t do…
When Delmar (nhrn) gets just a bit older, go buy some nice shiny Harbor Freight wrenches. Run them through the dishwasher so they’re really clean. Then give him a few to play with (not the small ones he could choke on, not the large ones he could daamage himself or furniture with). He’ll like the shiny toys, enjoy the clank when they bang against each other, and like doing what daddy does.
It doesn’t take long before they develop an interest. And while working with your kids slows things down, those are golden moments that lead to lifetimes of memories.
https://itisgood.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/64-Airstream-work-P-E.jpg
Agreed. My daughter is almost 6 and enjoys helping with any tasks. Or sometimes she just wants to hang out in the garage and dance to music or watch cartoons while I work on stuff. I don’t care which she picks because she wants to hang out with me.
Meanwhile, my dad wouldn’t let 8 year old me touch his ‘31 Model A because god forbid he seize an opportunity to bond with his son and teach him something.
Can I be your kid too?
You did’nt even get “hold the light? NO hold it there!”?
I intentionally sacrificed one of the two bays of my garage for a work/chill space. There’s a couch, 65″ TV, a bar fridge, and a kickin sound system. Everyone is welcome!
Not always a great idea.
My Dad gave my little brother a claw hammer to keep him amused at age 3.
He promptly took it into his room and turned the drywall into Swiss cheese.
yeaaaahhh… nap time is the time for getting things done.
Agreed. With the wifi enabled baby monitors of today, it’s never been easier to get stuff done during nap time.
Quick tip: if you need to do something around the house and they are young enough to be confortable, put them to sleep in the stroller. They will be easier to reach if something happens.
Ha-Ha! I got motor oil on his head.
You got what on his what!?
Nothing.
I will take this opportunity to again recommend cooking oil as a very effective motor oil remover and skin moisturizer.
FWIW I used it a coupe of days ago to get bike grease stains out of my cycling clothes that laughed at regular detergent and regular stain removers. A bit of canola oil, a bit of liquid soap, a bit of cold water and poof! The stains were gone! After a run in the washer they looked brand new! This only works well for fresh stains though. Old, set stains, not so much.
As a bonus my hands with which I had washed the clothes in the sink were not irritated as they might have been with just detergent.
I imagine this will work even better to get used motor oil off a baby. it certainly couldn’t hurt.
For kids under 6 months, the trick is to wrench in between their nap schedules. For kids 6 months to a year, putting them in a baby jumper will give you a little bit of reprieve, but likely only measured in low double digit minutes. Once they’re moving though, all bets are off and good luck to you. At a certain point though, they do start to become marginally helpful. And very very very curious.
…and then they get a sibling and the cycle starts anew.
This is basically my life for the past 4 years, I’m just getting to the point with my youngest where I might have a few hours in the evening (if the kids get to bed on time) to wrench on projects beyond essential maintenance items. For essential things like oil changes, brake jobs etc, I’ve leaned heavily on my wife watching the kids when needed, or biting the bullet and paying someone else to do it for me. When my kids were a little older than yours I tried doing some work while setting them up in a playpen, it worked about as well as your oil change experience, although I don’t recall ever anointing either of them with 15w-40 there were some close calls!
This story made my day.
It will get easier David. And then it will actually get harder again. And then even easier than before. Believe it or not, you will sometimes miss those times when it was harder.
Soak it up my friend. Soak it up.
I’ll admit I don’t come here all that often, but when did David get married? And then have a kid? Shit, I feel so out of the loop
A lot has happened since DT moved to LA
Why didn’t you just have the cat do the oil change for you? 😛
Now that’s the ticket!
Kitty will get that meowter purrin’.
If you look at that oil as a baptism into the Church of David the Autopian, it’s not so bad.
Okay, maybe it’s worse.
“In the name of the XJ, the ZJ, and the J10…”
By the power of the 0W-30
I would never trust my cat to do my taxes.
Right, they can do taxes, but only if they can benefit from it. Tax fraud here we come! /s
Mine would request the refund paid out on a Chewy gift card.
Mine would get me audited just for the hell of it then ask for treats like nothing happened.