Chuck attempts his own car maintenance. What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

Last Friday, I took my 2017 Chevrolet Volt Premier (“Lightning’s Girl”) to the dealership for an oil change and a tire rotation. All went well. Afterward, the parts desk suggested I return in about a month for a cabin filter replacement and an engine air filter replacement.

“How much will that cost me?” I asked.

“Well,” the parts tech said, “the cabin filter should only cost $95 with installation, and the engine air filter should only cost $105 with installation.”

So I’m looking at $200, plus taxes and tariffs.

And I’m thinking to myself … I’ve taken exceptional care of Lightning’s Girl for the past three-plus years. Always followed a maintenance schedule. But $200 to replace two filters? Is this something that I can do myself? You know, like self-filling the windshield washer fluids? Or self-replacing the wiper blades? Or self-inflating my tires?

I know what you’re thinking. Will someone kindly post the calling hours for Chuck’s wake? Or will Chuck’s repair eventually cost thousands in “repairs because Chuck touched something he shouldn’t have touched” costs?

No. I have to be a man about this. I can’t let this intimidate me. Today I will step up to the Torah and read the scroll. Today I am a man.

All I need is an engine air filter for a 2017 Chevrolet Volt Premier, a cabin filter for a 2017 Chevrolet Volt Premier, a 7mm nut driver, and some kosher salt. Oh, wait, this is a car repair blog post, it’s not a Bachelor Cooking recipe blog post. My bad. 😀

Parts arrived on Sunday. So if I’m going to do this … I have to put on my big boy pants and grow a set of brass cojones, and not be a simpering pendejo.

All right. I have to pop the panel on the right side of the glove box. Done.

There are supposed to be five screws holding the glove box in place. One … two … three … four … hmm … missing one. Whoever changed the cabin filter last time didn’t put all the screws back in the car. Nertz. I’ll just have to work with the four screws.

Screws extracted and laced in the center panel cup holder. Stay there. Don’t go anywhere.

Popped the glove box assembly off. Okay, Miller. This should be easy. It’s just like a game of Operation. You take out the wrenched ankle or the funny bone or the charley horse, and hope that the little red buzzer on Cavity Sam’s nose doesn’t go buzz …

There’s two little clasps … I just pop them, open a little panel door, and looky here that’s a nasty looking filter. Okay, Chuck – pay attention. There’s an arrow on the filter panel. It points down. That’s how the filter must be oriented for proper air flow.

Okay. Out comes the cabin filter. Eww. Grody to the max.

In goes the new clean filter.

Clipped the clasps.

Reattached the glove box.

Reapplied the panel.

Moved over to the driver’s side.

Deep breath. Pie Jesu Domine, dona eis requim… (hits face with book)

All right. Let’s start the car.

Car starts.

I look over to the passenger’s side. No smoke. No dust. No noxious emissions. No flames. No worries.

Now I realize all of you are laughing your collective asses off about my nervousness around an automobile maintenance requirement. Understand this. I just saved myself a ton of money by doing this myself, and I believe I did it correctly. Yay me.

And I’m not dead. Or maimed. Or severely injured. I should go to the dealership and see if they have an additional 7mm screw, but that’s for another time.

Yeah. Chuck performed car maintenance. Today I am a man.

Tune in next time when I pop the hood and try to replace the air filter by myself.