We are going to reprint some articles from past issues from time to time.   This was written in January 2011.  As you know I’ve got the B on the lift again, so this seemed apropos.  This time it’s for a major refresh.  Lots of vertical miles 6’ at a time.  So far this time, I’ve avoided personal injury.  At least major.

 By Corky Guenther

Everyone said that last winter was the worst since 1977.  Last summer the hottest in memory.  This winter has been the same as last keeping us out of the LBCs meaning there aren’t any trip reports. Since the cars (at least ours) need maintenance, this provides the perfect opportunity and also wards off Cabin Fever.  In an effort to get the MGB off the lift so the TC can take its place, I’ve been spending time in the garage.  Unfortunately, the schedule has been extended.

I went out to the garage to work on our B last Monday.  I’ve been rebuilding the rear suspension and needed to separate the shock links from the shocks.  The left one went OK but the right one was giving me some difficulty, so I removed it from the car and took it to the bench.  I was using a gear puller used on the left one successfully. The jaws needed a little persuasion to fully engage the shock arm.  Holding the jaws in place with my left hand, I intended to seat it right home i.e., give it a lick with a hammer.  I took a swing and hit the end of my left-hand ring finger (hard!).  After dropping the hammer, clutching my finger, using up more than my allotment of bad words and dancing around the garage for a time, I grabbed some tissue and stopped the bleeding.  When I unwrapped it and had a look, it was obvious that a sterling job had been done on the finger and a trip to the ER would be required.

Off we went figuring that this would be a good three hours.  Turned out that, perhaps because of the snow, the ER wasn’t all that crowded.  We got right in and were ushered into a cubicle. Of course, the attending medical folks starting with Admitting, each in turn, needed to know what I’d done.  “Hit it with a hammer” was the short answer.  The ER Doctor looked at it and observed that I’d “mashed the puddin’ out of it” - a medical term, I think.  He wanted X-Rays to ensure I hadn’t broken anything.  I didn’t think I had but the ER Doc said, “Nobody ever does, we’ll just take a look”.   That was about the only thing I got right.  During the stitching, he’d put one in, wipe it off and push it back together before doing the next one.  He referred to it as: “putting all of the squooshy stuff back in”.  At one point Priscilla said: “Maybe the next time I tell you to be careful when you go to the garage, you’ll pay attention”.  Or something like that.  The Doc paused, looked over at me and said: “I knew that was coming.  I’ve got one just like that at home.”

When the nurse was preparing the discharge papers for signature, she asked if I was right-handed.  I said: “Fortunately yes, but then we have to remember that I was using my right hand to swing the hammer”.

Kind of says it all.