Back beneath the Volvo yesterday and again today replacing the electric main fuel pump which failed Thursday afternoon.
I had the fuel pump replaced a year ago since I had no idea how old the one on the car actually was. Most of these Bosch electric pumps will go 250,000 miles and this car had 280,000 true miles behind it at that time.
The geniuses who did the work turned out to be anything but smart and skilled at wrenching. The cause of the failure was a Mickey Mouse/Shade Tree Mechanic-worthy botched electrical connection that looked as though someone just stuffed frayed copper wiring into the female connector, wrapped the so-called connection with electrical tape as best as they could and prayed I could get the car off their lot under its own power thus relieving them of any liability.
Aside from tearing down the engine, which I did once and swore to never do again, there isn’t much on a Volvo 240 I cannot do myself and haven’t already done a number of times. Rear trailing arms? No problem. Rear oil seal? You got it.
Rather than take the car back to Curly, Larry and Moe I have decided just to buy any special tools needed and do the work myself. A bigger floor jack and taller jack stands were the first in the door and more will be on the way soon.
At least I know there won’t be any monkey business quality repairs from this point forward.
Apologies to Bob Dylan for robbing a line from his 1965 Subterranean Homesick Blues song.