Keep Plugging Away
How my parents and a greasy Nissan Pathfinder taught me patience
By Walker Sacon
Anxiety washed over me the first time I opened the hood of my 1995 Nissan Pathfinder. The mass of bits and bobs which made my beat-up SUV run overwhelmed me.
At 16, I was still in my first year of licensed driving. The Pathfinder was my second car after I learned an all too important lesson about the off-road potential of a Volkswagen Jetta.
My parents adjusted their commuting schedules for a few months to shuttle me and my younger sister around before they decided I should drive again. As winter’s round of activities started up, they took to the classifieds to replace the Jetta and retire once more from chauffeuring.
My dad found the Pathfinder in a nearby town and bought it after a quick test drive. It was cheap, four-wheel drive and would be a good chance for me to learn to drive a manual.
The only apparent issue with the dull white SUV was a minor oil leak. However, it didn’t seem like the previous owner was big on maintenance, so my dad pulled the Pathfinder into the garage and made a list of preventative repairs. After he showed me where his tools belonged and how to search “how to” on YouTube, he handed me a repair manual.
I realized then he wouldn’t be helping much with the wrenching.
It was slow going by myself. I went about things cautiously and stopped to search the web for tips before trying just about every step in the manual. A few stripped nuts later, I hit the road in my dad’s truck for some new hardware and some reflection on the way. Rushing tends to end up costing more time than it saves.
When I started pulling things apart, I learned many complex parts are held in by the same bolts and screws as anything else. When I finally pulled one part after struggling for hours, I learned patience. When a speck of grease hit me in the eye, I learned to wear eye protection.
In retrospect, replacing a timing belt is a pretty difficult task for a novice wrench. It’s a testament to the power of patience and following the instructions that I got it done. Eventually, I replaced the fluids I had drained, started the old Nissan and listened to it healthily idle up to operating temperature.
The process demystified the entire vehicle to me. Even though I only partially stripped the front of the engine bay and didn’t know the names of most of the things I removed, I realized the whole Pathfinder was just a collection of parts..
The experience taught me I could learn to do things on the fly, with some patience and help. I realized everyone in any field is a beginner at some point and understanding doesn’t come without effort.
When my dad checked my work, I was proud of finishing most of it by myself. I didn’t realize it while I was spilling coolant on myself in the cold garage that weekend, but I had a newfound appreciation for instruction manuals and tinkering.
The next time I opened the Pathfinder’s hood in a time of need, I felt no anxiety. I still didn’t know what to do, but I knew I could figure it out with enough time.
