I would make the half-hour drive from Watsonville to their house in my little blue Volkswagen Bug. After I had learned to tune its engine, I was feeling competent and powerful in that knowledge. But one time, when I was driving there, just after tuning the engine, I heard a loud pop and was barely able to pull into a gas station before the car sputtered to a stop. Looking under the hood with my newly found expertise, I saw that a spark plug was out, so I stuck it back in. But it didn’t stay. There was a bigger problem. I had made a costly mistake.
Because my how-to manual had not cautioned me to only hand tighten the spark plugs on this model car, I had used a wrench and inadvertently cross threaded the plug. Unbeknownst to me, the next time I had tuned it, there was nothing to hold the spark plug in. The whole engine and to be pulled and fixed. A Heli coil had to be machined in. My step-brother was studying mechanics at the time and he generously did the work for me. I was disgusted because it was such a preventable mistake. After it was fixed, I decided that only mechanics should work on my car and that I should stick to dancing. It was dance that grabbed my heart, not mechanics. But I remained happy that engines were no longer a frightening mystery to me.
©2022 Marianna Mejia