Ouch!

So today I decided to replace the back half of the exhaust on t3h wag00n. There was a large hole where the hanger had broken off the pipe, and it was leaking profusely from the muffler. Rather than attempting any more patches, and since I had the parts around, I went to work on replacing it.

I got it a brief shot last week, only to meet with failure as the bolts were all well frozen and rusted in place. I picked up some hardware at Lowe's in the meantime and devised a plan of attack.

I got underneath and started off by using my 4" grinder to grind away at the bolts that attach the rear pipe to the cat pipe. I ran out of room for leverage to get that done. I needed that to drop a couple inches. I looked to the tail pipe. I snipped the wired that held it all in place in front of the muffler and went to cut apart the clamp at the rear hanger. The bolt was cut and snapped. I grabbed it with my right hand and gave it a yank.

Oooh! What was that?

I checked my thumb. The rubber glove was ripped open and there was a nice slice on the side of thumb already oozing blood. That's not good. Most injuries while working on the car don't spill blood for a few moments. That meant I did something good this time.

I crawled out from underneath the rear of the wagon all the while keeping a close eye on my wound. I walked to the front of the house where I knew my wife was setting up Christmas decorations with the neighbors daughter.

"Honey, can you do me a favor?" I asked. I was holding my right thumb in my left hand, protecting it from who knows what.

"What," she stated, turning, glowering at me for having disturbed her dealings with the inflatable penguin.

"I need a bandage," I responded, "I cut myself while working on the car."

Her expression immediately changed to one of puzzlement and concern. She strode over looking over to my hand and asked weakly, "what happened?" But soon enough she got close enough to see the injury. By this point the blood had puddled in my right glove and was all over my left. It was a gusher and by the look on her face I knew she became panicked and cried, "OH MY GOD!!!"

I remained calm, "Don't worry about it. If it's not bothering me, it shouldn't be bothering you. Can you just get me a bandage and a paper towel. I don't want to drip blood on the floor."

The look of sheer terror of her face betrayed her true feelings, however she got it together to go in and fetch me something for this situation. By the time she came out with a band-aid the blood was already streaking down my wrists, all over both hands and dripping on the lawn and driveway. I knew this band-aid would offer little to no help slowing the flow of blood. "I don't think that will work. I'll take the paper towel and could you maybe get some gauze and the tape?"

"But look how it's bleeding! How's that going to help?" she asked.

I was thinking she's just wasting time, and my blood with each moment she questions my request. I removed my right glove which was filling with blood and took the paper towel from her. "It's just a cut, honey. A little direct pressure will stop it. Don't worry. Please, just get me the gauze and tape." She went in to honor my request. The stream of bright crimson continued to flow. It was flowing with a rhythm. Kind of a beat. A HEART BEAT! One Mississippi, gush, two Mississippi, gush. Shit. The flow was in time with my pulse. I'm no medical professional, but I knew that wasn't a good thing. I needed to get this taken care of NOW. All the while I was considering the best way to handle this the neighbor's daughter comes over.

"Can I see the cut?" she asked. It was an innocent request, yet seemed odd coming from a 4 year old child.

"Really?" I asked. She nodded her head and I opened my paper towel which was now completely bright red with blood to show her the laceration. She only looked at it and skipped off to amuse herself with something else. How odd, I thought.

At that moment my Florence Nightingale came running out of the house with a square of gauze and the tape. She came up beside me and the look of distress on her face was once again apparent. She looked like she was about to cry. "I'm not good with these things," she stated, seemingly in response to my thoughts.

"It's okay, just do as I say," I said in an oddly cool demeanor. "Take that gauze and fold it in half." She unfolds it and opens it up all the way. She was more scared than I was about this and it was clouding her thoughts. "No, sweetie, FOLD it the way it was, and fold THAT in half," I said in a smooth teacherlike tone, and she did so.

I knew the next part would be the hardest for her. "Okay, I'm going to remove the paper towel, you apply the gauze over the cut, okay?" The look on her face betrayed that she didn't want to do it, but she knew she must. She hates blood and this was a major thing for her to do. The paper was removed and the applied the gauze. Quickly the gauze started turning red. She quickly started wrapping the gauze with the tape. She did quite well.

"That's a pretty good field dressing, I might survive now," I joked, hoping to take the edge from the situation. "Thanks honey!"

Believe it or not, I put on another rubber glove, and then some heavy leather work gloves on top and FINISHED the job. Now that exhaust sounds very nice and mellow.