The Dangers of Oil Analysis
The Dangers of Oil Analysis
This one's for Bill: 
A man steps into a classroom hours after the school bell had rang for the last time that day. He had never attended a support group meeting before and could not be more nervous about his first session. Seated in a semi circle are nearly a dozen depressed, anxious and troubled individuals. One of them, however, is the counselor and this is obvious by the clipboard he cradles in his lap. He spots the newcomer and greets him.
“Hi, and welcome to Oil Analyzers Anonymous. Could you please introduce yourself to the rest of the group?”
The newcomer is hesitant but stands in front of the others and begins to speak.
“Hi, …um, my name is Fred …”
Before Fred gets any further, the others shout out greetings.
“Hi Fred!”
“Howzit goin’ Fred?”
“Hey, we’re here for you Fred.”
“Gee, thanks. Well, um, I’ve been analyzing my oil for a few years now. It started innocently enough with just an annual testing of my prized ‘Vette’s oil at the end of the summer driving season. But within a couple years I was testing the family Blazer, my wife’s Monte Carlo, my son’s Honda Civic and once even our garden tractor. I was actually spending more money on testing than I was on oil and filters. It was then that my wife insisted I get help.”
“Gee Fred, you’re new to this, ain’t ya?” a very thin member with unkempt hair and a beard said with a wry smile. He had been twitching in his chair and was obviously anxious to tell his story.
“I knew I had a problem when I’d was arrested for the second time. I broke into my neighbor’s garage late at night, start up his car and got a sample of oil while he slept. I just couldn’t resist. I’d see the containers of K-Mart “Motorvator” oil on his shelf and in his recycling bins and knew he’d gone longer than half a year and several thousand miles since his last change.” The scraggly man began to gesture wildly with his arms and was clearly becoming agitated. “What was he thinking? Doesn’t excessive insolubles and depleted TBN mean anything to some people?” His erratic motions caused him to spill some of his coffee on his AC/DC T-shirt.
The counselor interjected with a typical, condescending tone. “Now Jake, we all know it’s not the end of the world. Getting all worked up over your neighbor’s maintenance habits won’t solve anything.”
Jake settled himself a bit and continued. “Well, I got the sample OK, but went back after testing and the police arrested me halfway through the bypass filter installation.” He looked around and then sheepishly down at the floor. “That’s the thanks I get for trying to help.”
There was a pause and the counselor seized the moment. “OK, well, we all know that breaking and entering is wrong, riiight?”
He looked around the room and made eye contact with each member of the group until everyone present nodded in agreement. Some were rather reluctant but all succumbed to the annoying counselor’s will. “Jake, would you like to finish your story? The entire story?”
Still dabbing at his T-shirt with a cocktail napkin he continued. “Oh, uh … yeah. My second arrest came months later when I was touring an Ashland facility ...”
“Um, touring?” the counselor asked with a raised eyebrow.
“OK, OK, it was trespassing after hours … but they wouldn’t allow people to take samples of their product while on the guided tour. Their distribution system is full of old pipes and dirty storage tanks,” he stammered in frustration, “how else am I supposed to get an untainted sample to use as my baseline, huh? Can you tell me that?!?”
The counselor quickly turned his attention to another member in an effort to redirect the conversation. “Tom, why don’t you take your turn now.”
Tom was a short, middle age man just starting to lose his dark brown hair while reinforcing his waistline. “Well, while my daughter was away at college, I converted her room into my own testing lab. Then I pawned my wedding ring to buy my own gas chromatograph.”
“Yeah,” another exceedingly glum man in the room said, “Testing sure is hard on marriages. I sent in a sample of the leftover oil after my wife cooked me bacon one Sunday morning using a non-stick frying pan. Seeing excessive PTFE in the results, I asked her to reduce the heat she uses by twenty percent and cut back her cooking time from fifteen minutes to twelve and then I’d resample.” His voice trailed off a bit. “That’s when she told me she was taking the kids and going back to the guy who dumped her at the Senior Prom.” The man then broke down into tears and began to sob uncontrollably as the room went silent.
“Women don’t understand, do they?” another rather rotund member in his thirties chimed in.
“Go ahead, Robby, you can have your turn now.” said the counselor.
“I would stop to help women with flat tires by the side of the road. I’d change the tire … then change the oil and filter, adjust the valves, re-aim the headlights, scrub the wheel wells, debug the radiator … you know, just ... the basics. They were always in such a hurry to get going again and they’d never let me finish. You should have seen the dirty looks on their faces when I took my time sniffing each of the car’s dipsticks. You can’t be too careful, y’know.” Robby looked around the room for approval and got more than a couple positive nods from the rest of the group before continuing. “And it never went over well when I contacted them weeks later to tell ‘em that they were getting’ antifreeze in their oil. Sometimes it got downright ugly. I was forced to stop after the 3rd restraining order was placed on me.”
The generously proportioned man solemnly looked at the floor, pulled out a Snickers bar and began to peel off the wrapper. At this point Fred saw his chance and made a break for the door.
A man steps into a classroom hours after the school bell had rang for the last time that day. He had never attended a support group meeting before and could not be more nervous about his first session. Seated in a semi circle are nearly a dozen depressed, anxious and troubled individuals. One of them, however, is the counselor and this is obvious by the clipboard he cradles in his lap. He spots the newcomer and greets him.
“Hi, and welcome to Oil Analyzers Anonymous. Could you please introduce yourself to the rest of the group?”
The newcomer is hesitant but stands in front of the others and begins to speak.
“Hi, …um, my name is Fred …”
Before Fred gets any further, the others shout out greetings.
“Hi Fred!”
“Howzit goin’ Fred?”
“Hey, we’re here for you Fred.”
“Gee, thanks. Well, um, I’ve been analyzing my oil for a few years now. It started innocently enough with just an annual testing of my prized ‘Vette’s oil at the end of the summer driving season. But within a couple years I was testing the family Blazer, my wife’s Monte Carlo, my son’s Honda Civic and once even our garden tractor. I was actually spending more money on testing than I was on oil and filters. It was then that my wife insisted I get help.”
“Gee Fred, you’re new to this, ain’t ya?” a very thin member with unkempt hair and a beard said with a wry smile. He had been twitching in his chair and was obviously anxious to tell his story.
“I knew I had a problem when I’d was arrested for the second time. I broke into my neighbor’s garage late at night, start up his car and got a sample of oil while he slept. I just couldn’t resist. I’d see the containers of K-Mart “Motorvator” oil on his shelf and in his recycling bins and knew he’d gone longer than half a year and several thousand miles since his last change.” The scraggly man began to gesture wildly with his arms and was clearly becoming agitated. “What was he thinking? Doesn’t excessive insolubles and depleted TBN mean anything to some people?” His erratic motions caused him to spill some of his coffee on his AC/DC T-shirt.
The counselor interjected with a typical, condescending tone. “Now Jake, we all know it’s not the end of the world. Getting all worked up over your neighbor’s maintenance habits won’t solve anything.”
Jake settled himself a bit and continued. “Well, I got the sample OK, but went back after testing and the police arrested me halfway through the bypass filter installation.” He looked around and then sheepishly down at the floor. “That’s the thanks I get for trying to help.”
There was a pause and the counselor seized the moment. “OK, well, we all know that breaking and entering is wrong, riiight?”
He looked around the room and made eye contact with each member of the group until everyone present nodded in agreement. Some were rather reluctant but all succumbed to the annoying counselor’s will. “Jake, would you like to finish your story? The entire story?”
Still dabbing at his T-shirt with a cocktail napkin he continued. “Oh, uh … yeah. My second arrest came months later when I was touring an Ashland facility ...”
“Um, touring?” the counselor asked with a raised eyebrow.
“OK, OK, it was trespassing after hours … but they wouldn’t allow people to take samples of their product while on the guided tour. Their distribution system is full of old pipes and dirty storage tanks,” he stammered in frustration, “how else am I supposed to get an untainted sample to use as my baseline, huh? Can you tell me that?!?”
The counselor quickly turned his attention to another member in an effort to redirect the conversation. “Tom, why don’t you take your turn now.”
Tom was a short, middle age man just starting to lose his dark brown hair while reinforcing his waistline. “Well, while my daughter was away at college, I converted her room into my own testing lab. Then I pawned my wedding ring to buy my own gas chromatograph.”
“Yeah,” another exceedingly glum man in the room said, “Testing sure is hard on marriages. I sent in a sample of the leftover oil after my wife cooked me bacon one Sunday morning using a non-stick frying pan. Seeing excessive PTFE in the results, I asked her to reduce the heat she uses by twenty percent and cut back her cooking time from fifteen minutes to twelve and then I’d resample.” His voice trailed off a bit. “That’s when she told me she was taking the kids and going back to the guy who dumped her at the Senior Prom.” The man then broke down into tears and began to sob uncontrollably as the room went silent.
“Women don’t understand, do they?” another rather rotund member in his thirties chimed in.
“Go ahead, Robby, you can have your turn now.” said the counselor.
“I would stop to help women with flat tires by the side of the road. I’d change the tire … then change the oil and filter, adjust the valves, re-aim the headlights, scrub the wheel wells, debug the radiator … you know, just ... the basics. They were always in such a hurry to get going again and they’d never let me finish. You should have seen the dirty looks on their faces when I took my time sniffing each of the car’s dipsticks. You can’t be too careful, y’know.” Robby looked around the room for approval and got more than a couple positive nods from the rest of the group before continuing. “And it never went over well when I contacted them weeks later to tell ‘em that they were getting’ antifreeze in their oil. Sometimes it got downright ugly. I was forced to stop after the 3rd restraining order was placed on me.”
The generously proportioned man solemnly looked at the floor, pulled out a Snickers bar and began to peel off the wrapper. At this point Fred saw his chance and made a break for the door.
bill you have started something...and now you have more followers.. You must lead us to the promised land..
where those that use mobil 1 will hold hands with those that use castrol gtx...
I want to make beleavers of the dealerships and the 60 year old man who changes his oil at jiffy lube every 2500 miles.. oh yes bill lead us
where those that use mobil 1 will hold hands with those that use castrol gtx...
I want to make beleavers of the dealerships and the 60 year old man who changes his oil at jiffy lube every 2500 miles.. oh yes bill lead us
Senior Member
Joined: Mar 2001
Posts: 1,111
hahaha, that's one of the funniest things I've ever read on this forum, hahaha
I think you have WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS, don't you have a job? I can't believe your boss allows people like you to come up with stuff like that
hahaha
K
p.s. we need to get the gang together sometime soon, watch some AutoX and drink some beerz
I think you have WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS, don't you have a job? I can't believe your boss allows people like you to come up with stuff like that
hahaha
K
p.s. we need to get the gang together sometime soon, watch some AutoX and drink some beerz
Originally posted by Lime
LOL! This comes at a time when I just picked up 5 more quarts of RP and am about to email Blackstone for a new test container muahaha.
LOL! This comes at a time when I just picked up 5 more quarts of RP and am about to email Blackstone for a new test container muahaha.
Did you get your leak(s) fixed?
Donating Maxima.org Member
Joined: Apr 2001
Posts: 4,154
Originally posted by bill99gxe
Did you get your leak(s) fixed?
Did you get your leak(s) fixed?
As soon as I get the info, I will pass it on to you like last time! I am doing 4300 miles.
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