I noticed tonight when I parked at the gym that my right front headlamp was burnt out. Damn it, and on a night when my new mechanic... er excuse me man friend (tee hee) is off making drinks for his family (at an event I didn't have to go to!) After my workout I zipped over to "Shucks" to pick up bulbs.
Once at home I whipped out the owners manual, because unlike my mom (hi mom!) I will take the time to read instructions (if they are less than 5 pages.)
The instructions basically said this:
"Replacing headlamps has become increasingly difficult and your dealer is equipped with the tools needed and you should have the bulbs replaced by the dealer little girl. You can't do it... take the car in and let a man do it."
Oh no you di'nt! I took it as a personal challenge. I'm not going to make an appointment, wait 5 hours, and pay $50 to change a headlamp. I dug right in and figured it out (without instructions - because the book wants me to drive to Bellevue.)
It wasn't too difficult once I wedged my hand into the freakishly small space and then figured out that there was a cap holding the bulb in place. It popped right out after I removed the cap. Go Figure.
Because my dad taught me well, I replaced both sides and tested the lamps to see if they worked. If they are woefully out of alignment... well, look away, I'm not jamming my hand back in that greasy small place ever again (until next time the bulbs burn out -- but then maybe I'll just get a new car.)
Now that I'm done I do acknowledge that this really was no job for a man with any sort of reasonable sized hands. I have little hobbit hands and barely managed to make it work. I wonder if the Volkswagen dealers are obligated to keep someone on staff with tiny doll hands for just such service calls?
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