Monday morning the first week of vacation almost always means working on the Maxwell.
(My Maxwell is at home. I miss him. But my kitty does not travel well.)
I started being tasked with cleaning the back tires free of grease. I got my bright green gloves and my special cleaner, and Grandpa jacked up the Maxwell so I could spin the tires. For some reason, it lifted lop-sided, where the passenger side was higher and driver’s side low. Still, it was enough.
I got the tires nice and clean and also did the splash pans and the hood. The car leaked so I had to do the splash pans twices. Also the hood as Grandpa was not satisfied with my first attempt.
We were about to break for tea when Grandpa discovered that there was another squeak. I was like, “but we fixed the squeak last year.”
And we couldn’t figure out what was making the noise.
After Mom trimmed the hedge, she came over to see what our status was, and she helped look for the squeak, but it couldn’t be found. It seemed to be coming from the area of the gas tank, which made no sense. Mom asked if it was because the Maxwell was on the jack, and I asked if Grandpa had heard the squeak before yesterday. He said it shouldn’t be the jack and that while he hadn’t heard it yesterday, it was there anyway.
We went back in for tea, and when we returned, Grandpa continued to search for the squeak.
We still couldn’t find it, but we ended up letting the Maxwell off the jack.
Yes, you guessed it. There was no more squeak. Funny how that goes.