I wish you all could've been in my garage yesterday for the McCloskey and Ellis Three-Bay Circus!
Paul functioned as Ringmaster, and I played the roles (alternately) of janitor, and barely-trained chimp.
Paul had been kind enough, the day before, to substitute a beautiful new sump for my raggedy-looking one. This piece of art had been machined and grooved to accept an O-ring, thereby double-protecting against leaks. Unfortunately, I discovered, the morning after installation, that we had a pretty serious oil leak going. Looked like the clever groove had been machined just a bit too deeply, and the O-ring wasn't able to make a good seal.
So... OFF came the new sump, and back ON went the old.
You should have SEEN this operation. We agreed that the fellow with the smallest paws at every VW shop MUST be assigned the delightful task of getting the nuts started on the studs' threads. A regular human can barely make it happen! I'm not saying Paul's got pickle-fingers, but the poor guy spent almost 45 heroic minutes on his back, hand up in that sump, trying to maneuver the nuts onto their studs. He looked like he was checking a cow to see how her calf was doing (if you're not a farm boy, Google that procedure -- you'll never forget it).
At one point, when the nuts and washers kept slipping out of line on the way to the threads, Paul says, "Do you have any grease around? Or Vaseline?"
I hustled into the house to retrieve the closest option: Vicks Vaporub. I put a smear on a shop towel so it'd be handy, and crawled back under the motor with Paul. It served the purpose fine, but, of course, the afternoon wouldn't be complete unless I eventually lay my head on this wad of mentholated goo, would it?
Paul found this hilarious, but I was able to wring some enjoyment from the Chinese-water-torture-style oil drips that kept finding their way onto his face and glasses. When I remarked that I admired his patience in allowing his face to be coated in motor oil, he countered that, due to my agility in accidentally working Vaporub into my hair, at least his sinuses were clearing up.
MAN, did we lie there laughing!
We finished the operation by straining the brand-new oil that we'd saved from draining the motor. We thought it was best to use my wife's spaghetti colander for this operation, so that we didn't end up pouring a washer or a nut back into the motor.
My wife is, so far, blissfully unaware of the colander's dual purpose. It's sitting in a bucket of Dawn suds, and I'm hoping for the best.
Good news is, no leaks this morning under the Speedster, and another jewel in Paul's crown!