I awoke this morning sore, tired, and beat. Sometimes to fix a car I need to contort my body like Gumby. When I do it, I never actually mind it, and when repairs for the car don't take forever I don't really "feel it." However, I spent a large portion of yesterday fixing a car that was not a project and not mine. My brother needed a clutch put into his 2002 Impreza WRX. He's a Guardsmen and was called up to train this weekend, the clutch was worn so badly it was nearly impossible for him to accelerate past quarter-throttle.
A few late-night/early-mornings and it has a fresh clutch. I have no desire to do it again - so here's hoping he does not smoke the clutch in the next 30,000 miles.
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