I added the supercharger kit within a year of buying the car. The 'charger doubles the torque of the engine. At the time, it was fun blowing away larger sports cars. But the design has a flaw and this is at least the tenth time the drive belt has shredded, burned, snapped or squealed. The serpentine belt goes over two small aftermarket idler pulleys to make its circuitous way from the crankshaft to the air conditioning pump to the power steering and up to the blower and back again. One of the 2 inch idlers bends the belt nearly 180 degrees. The kit originally came with nylon pulleys with pressed in bearings, but they melted when the bearings failed. Finally I got a set of aluminum idlers, each with two 30mm ball bearings. I think someone concluded that the aluminum would keep the bearings cooler. Or perhaps that enthusiasts would replace their own bearings and leave the kit maker in peace to dream up some other not-ready-for-production idea.
Now when the bearings disintegrate, sometimes slowly so the belt overheats and sometimes quickly (then it screams), I can replace them. I have a shop press to get them out and back in. McMaster-Carr sells bearings. Sweet.
The last time the bearings failed I bought eight new ones, four to use and four to use next time. While I was fixing the idlers I discovered another four new bearings. It seems that I ordered eight some time in the past as well. Good, I have two spare sets. Bad that I cannot remember doing so, but at least my mind retraces the same rut. Usually I fix the car within a
week. Funny how suddenly it's four months.
Yesterday was finally the day. I had partially disassembled things several weeks ago but broke off for another project that seemed more urgent. Now, before I loose all the parts, I figured I'd complete the job. One hitch, though. I cannot find the spare bearings. I looked for two hours. No joy. I gave up and grabbed a beer.
To say that I live in a somewhat disordered environment is both kind and truer than I care to admit. I depend on putting things in logical places and then remembering where they are. I'm also a keen observer. I can find stuff Julie loses in under a minute. So I probably put all eight bearings on a shelf where I could see them, a little lineup of eight identical boxes. Logically I might have put them with other Miata parts, like oil filters and gaskets. Perhaps in one of the many pigeonholes in my office. They could be in a drawer with other important stuff. Finally, they may have fallen victim to Eloisa.
Eloisa has kept us clean for 15 years. She likes an orderly looking place so she puts stuff that is lying around into boxes or drawers or closets. When something disappears we suspect it has been "Eloisa-ed." I have several sacred spaces Eloisa knows not to go. One is my office. Or the second desk in the loft or the small table by the front door. Stuff I put there -- on it's way to wherever -- stays there. So I've even gone through many strata of Eloisa's past attempts to make the house look orderly. Nothing.
The thought occurs that the problem is me. I'm going senile. My shrink says no, I'm just getting slightly and normally a little more forgetful, typical of people my age. I'm not sliding into dementia. How nice to have a professional opinion. I still haven't found the bearings. Worse yet, I'm sitting at the computer writing this when I could be out there looking. That would involve straightening up one of my sacred spaces. Because I do what Eloisa does too. When my desk is just too much to bear and something needs urgent doing, I slide the contents into a box, promising myself I will sort it all out when the urgency passes. Sometimes that actually happens. I sort through the box and put stuff into smaller boxes, one for stuff going to the shop, one for stuff going to the boat, one for stuff going to the truck and then, finally, some makes the wastebasket. Sometimes these sorted boxes get to their destination and sometimes they just pile up. I can usually remember where I've seen something last, so it has been less of a problem than one might think. Until now.
You don't have to develop much brain friction to start forgetting where you put things. At least I don't. I seem normally competent to myself and those around me. But an edge is a little duller somewhere. Perhaps it's time to clean out the loft again. After all, finding things presumes you can get to them, see them.
I pause. . . .
Perhaps after another cup of coffee.
Postscript: I found the possibly imaginary bearings in July in my top dresser drawer. Who would look there? Shortly after the original post I bought four new bearings and fixed the car. So I still have four spares. Maybe if I run the belt a little looser I will not need them very soon.
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