Like this:

So, as a certifiable newbie in re my TR6 (“P.D.”), I’ve started to attack the “easy” stuff (you know, fluids and lights; things that won’t kill the car…or me).  Today I decided to fix one of the reverse lights (one worked, one didn’t).  Others may disagree, but I think I’m on the verge of becoming a certifiable genius (see: MacGyver).

A day or so ago, I removed the covers inside the boot (don’t forget, it’s British) from the rear lights (warning flashers, turn signals, brake lights, reverse lights) in an attempt to rectify a known problem: one of the reverse lights didn’t work.  I proceeded to troubleshoot the issue as best as I could given my lack of tools, experience, and illumination (hold the laughter).

Electrical Repair Kit

 

I found, through a disciplined methodology (trial, error, bloodletting), it wasn’t simply a need for a new bulb; one of the dang British light fixtures appeared to be inoperable.  Bravely facing a dearth of usable implements (multi-meter, work light, and, of course, beer), I resigned myself to do some additional research (I’d mention doing a bit of web-surfing at work today, but my boss reads this…so…um…I looked it up in catalogues and parts lists at home after work) before venturing forth again to repair that which would serve to warn unsuspecting drivers of my intention to back the hell up.

Today, I went by the local auto shoppe emporium and boutique and dropped nearly a Benjamin buying knicks, light bulbs, a multi-meter, some anti-freeze, and enough windshield washer fluid to fill the reservoir in the car 17 or 18 times over (oh, I got some knacks, too).  To the swamp I went.

I removed the covers I’d carefully put back in place the other day (why did I put them back on knowing full well I’d be taking them off in a day or so?  I have no clue.) and grasping firmly my fancy multi-meter, I started checking things over.  The results were less than ideal.

The offending member of the light parade was a simple (see: idiotically prone to failure) part:  the bulb holder itself.  I puzzled over the obvious solution:  get the ground on the bulb holder to make a connection to the ground on the car (this part grounds itself, and its snug as a bug in a rug light bulb, to the car’s body through a rather bizarre looking series of prongs (think: octopus meets a Klingon warship)).  The problem was that the little tab dingus which is designed to make a connection to the bulb did not make a connection with the prong-prone whatsis (pardon the technical jargon; maybe it would help to read this as if it were written using a British accent).  Closer inspection just served to make me angry since this stupid little part was so simply designed as to never need repair or replacement (yeah, right).  I cranked my puzzler up another notch.

Dang Brit Electrics

It occurred to me that the bulb retention device was circular in nature, the light bulb touching bit (dingus) was just under the round prong part (whatsis).  What I needed to do was to make them “touch” with something which, in accordance with some whacky laws of physics or chemistry or philosophy, would conduct a magical, unknown substance called “electricity.”  Puzzler: Overdrive.

I took a moment to suck on some puzzler “lubricant” (beer) and was inspired; an idea so brilliant that itself might be used to illuminate the nether reaches of the boot, sans work light.  I had some wire “nippers” (too many words to describe) and a package of tiny washers in a drawer in the kitchen (leftovers from building the house, I suppose).  See where this is going?  ROUND washers, ROUND bulb holder (whatsis)…do you see it?  Once you get ye olde puzzler properly lubed, it’s child’s play to solve life’s many problems…even the time-honored electrical issues associated with all British (and BMW) cars.  I quickly cut one of the washers in half and headed back down to figure out a way to jam the semi-washer in the whatsis to allow the necessary electrons to flow like aqua pura down the River of Dreams.

This Should Work

Locating my Leatherman (did I mention I don’t have any tools?), I tried valiantly to “stuff” the washer (sans half) into a gap which wouldn’t have fit a washer thinner by ten times.  Naturally, I attempted to force it (oft with a sharp knife in my hand).  No joy.

During my treasure hunt, I found a spool of solder (pronounced, “solder”) in the very same kitchen drawer.  Picture this:  I attempted to hold the solder over the bulb holder, heating the solder with a grill lighter, fully expecting a careful drip of melted solder to find its way into the aforementioned bulb holder “gap.”  It might have worked if I could have held the solder/lighter closer to the bulb holder, but since the holder was plastic, that approach was less than ideal.  Turns out the distance required between the lighter/solder/holder was sufficiently sufficient to allow the solder “drip” to cool on its journey; it hardened and “clinked” off the part and bounced to the ground.  What the hell, who knew?

Retiring in disgust, I took up residence in the front seat of my Tahoe (much more comfy whilst one is attempting to stuff things where they won’t fit) and felt the dark veil of defeat begin to descend upon me.  There is NO way in hell I’ll pay good money for such a stupid, silly part!  There MUST be a way!  I’m SCOTTISH, for God’s sake!!!  (Perchance, I swore.)

Catching my breath after a long swig of lubricant, I reached into the console for a napkin (I did mention the knife and “forcing”) and espied a common, ordinary pen.  You know, the ubiquitous kind found in so many company supply rooms (again…my boss reads this stuff…so, um…I bought this pen, and the other 14 just like it in my center console, from Staples).  In this case, it was a Uni Super Ink, which, if the advertising is to be believed, has built into it, some magical ability to stop plagiarism (motto actually printed on the side of the pen: Helps Prevent Document Fraud).  How that works exactly is a subject for another time (lucky you).  Here’s the best part of a Uni Super Ink writing device: it has attached to it something which nerds, engineers, and Trekkies (wait, I repeat myself) find so utterly appealing: a clip to affix it to a pocket/nerd pack.

I ripped the clip off the Uni Super Ink fraud-prevention device with my Leatherman and twisted the end bit, back and forth, until a tiny little piece was extracted.  I used some nearby tweezers (Trim, straight edges, motto on the side:  Helps to Prevent Unsightly Zits) to insert the tiny little piece into the tiny little gap in the bulb holder and VIOLA! That clip was the perfect thickness to make Einstein rejoice in the knowledge that the universe would be made once again whole, electrons flowing from positive to negative (or whatever the hell they do) with reckless abandon. (Oh, the pen ink was blue.  I guess you use pens with red ink for positive connections…but I don’t really know.)

I put a bulb in its natural place and re-attached the lot to the car in its assigned location.  And it was good.

I decided to leave the “Add Windshield Washer Fluid” challenge for another day.  I’ll keep you posted.

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