The Adventures of Transmission Man - As seen in Gears Magazine

Look, up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, No, it's "Transmission Man". Strange visitor from another planet with auto repair abilities far beyond that of mortal men. Who, disguised as a mild mannered mechanic striving for automotive excellence, fights a never ending battle to rid the world of incompetence and deception in the auto repair industry.

Although vehicles with computer controlled transmissions have been around for some time now, until recently, many of them would return back to the dealership for repairs. As these vehicles exceed their factory warranties, small repair shops everywhere are being forced to deal with electronic problems beyond their wildest dreams. In fact, without a scan tool, and the proper training to operate it, many one time talented technicians have chosen to sell their tools and pursue a career in the fast food industry. Would you like fries with that?

If I had a nickel for every electronic transmission problem that wasn't discovered until after the rebuilt trans "came back" a week later, well let's just say I'd have a lot of nickels. In fact, the first vehicle with an electronic trans that I ever saw, drove in fine. The way it drove out however, was an entirely different story. It was more than a few years back, and I can't recall every single detail. Ha, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. What did I have for breakfast yesterday? I don't know, but some things just seem to stick in your mind. As I thought about it, everything seemed to get a little fuzzy and out of focus, but that always happens when I think about the past. Then it was clear. It was a Friday, about ten after four. A local business owner, and long time customer, brought in the newest addition to his fleet of service vehicles. It was a 93 Chevy Astro Van equipped with a 4L60E. It only had about 14,000 miles on it, and it ran great. After years of conditioning, my customer had learned that a little preventive maintenance can go a long way, so he requested that we do a routine Trans Service on it while he waited. No Problem. As he hopped out of the van, I suggested that he go down to the corner and get a cup of coffee, and by the time he got back, it should be just about finished. I pulled it inside the shop and instructed Tommy the Trainee to "Service the Trans".

It was his first week on the job. He saw that the Cross member was butted up against the rear of the pan, and the Exhaust Pipe was up against the front and although a few of them were partially obstructed, Tommy managed to get all the pan bolts out. But there wasn't quite enough room to squeeze the pan out past the Exhaust. To Tommy, the obvious solution was to abandon his inadequate tools, and get the heavy artillery. A ten pound sledge and a four foot pry bar. Needless to say, Tommy T. never heard that loud SNAP when the pan finally broke free. How could he? Hey, with 90 decibels of brain hemorrhaging heavy metal music pounding through your head from your trusty walk man, you wouldn't hear anything either. Besides, it was twenty to five on a Friday. Tommy was only a pan gasket, a filter and five quarts of fluid away from sliding down that dinosaur's tail. Like Fred Flintstone when the whistle blows, he's "outta there".

Like a typical Friday at five, it was pretty hectic. I was busy writing invoices, answering the phone, and taking care of the steady flow of customers as they came in to pick up their vehicles for the weekend. I had just finished writing up the bill for the Astro Van when my customer came in the door. It was around quarter after five, although Tommy T was long gone, the Van was on the ground, the hood was closed, and the lift arms were pulled out. I was about to back the Van out of the shop when the phone started ringing again. My customer offered to back it out himself, and since the van road tested fine earlier, and after all, we only did a "service", I didn't bother to road test it again before I let him drive off. With the benefit of hind sight, this may have been a mistake. He wasn't gone more than three minutes.

(the following are the exact words that were spoken, with a few letters missing so as not to offend )

"What the F__k did you do to my truck ? The F__king thing was fine until you F__ked it up. How the F__k am I supposed to get my jobs done tomorrow? What the F__k are you gonna do?"

(If the previous was inappropriate, I offer the following as an alternate)

"What did you do to my truck ? It was working fine until you touched it. How am I supposed to get my jobs done tomorrow? What are you gonna do about it?"

I barely made it around the block, there was no power, no upshift, and a bright yellow light in the dash that said "Check Engine". After a short phone call consisting of "Honey, I might be a little late", and about fifteen or twenty minutes of apologizing and verbal butt licking (brown nosing), I offered to drive him home. The ride to his house was less than pleasant. Like Gear Lube in Greenland, or a Stick Shift in Siberia, the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. But anything less than a Ginsu would soon be garbage.

As I drove back to the shop I racked my brain. What could he have done wrong? What was I going to do? This was no ordinary transmission problem. No. This was a job for............"Transmission Man". Yes "Transmission Man". Faster than a speeding Sable. More powerful than a Lincoln Town Car. Able to solve intermittent drivability problems with a single scan. An undeniable "Diagnostic Daredevil". For Transmission Man, there was no problem too tough.

Deep in thought, I hadn't noticed that the light turned green. Turning to acknowledge the impatient honking of my fellow motorists, I thought I caught a glimpse of red and blue polyester in my rear view mirror, and as luck would have it, when I finally got back to the shop, Transmission Man was already there. As I explained the problem to him, he reached under the dash and grabbed hold of the Diagnostic Connector. His super human powers enabled him to retrieve trouble codes with his bare hands, and before I knew it, Transmission Man reduced himself to the size of a check ball and dove down the fill tube to have a look around. As he emerged dripping with Dexron, he re-enlarged himself and reassured me there was nothing to worry about. With that he reached into his utility belt, handed me a pair of shift solenoids and said "I'll be back". Then as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

After REMOVING the Cross member, I was able to tilt the trans pan out. There were several suspicious dents in the pan as if it had come in contact with a sledge hammer. There were three or four stripped out pan bolts that needed to be drilled out. There were a few pieces of plastic lying in the bottom of the pan, and the solenoids were swinging in the breeze suspended by nothing but the wires in the harness. Evidently in his haste, Tommy the Trainee broke the plastic shift solenoids when he attempted to force the pan in and out, and since the cross member was in the way, the rear pan bolts went in at an angle, causing them to cross thread, and strip out. I installed the new solenoids, and a handful of helicoils, cleared the codes, and called it a day. I never did see Tommy T again, but I hear from reliable sources, that he makes a mean French Fry.

The moral of this story has several parts.

(1) Always remove the Cross member before attempting to pull the pan on an Astro Van or S-10 Blazer with a 4L60E.
(2) Always road test the vehicle before releasing it to the customer.
(3) Always keep at least two 4L60E shift solenoids in stock, just in case.
(4) And most importantly, Never listen to Heavy Metal when using a four foot pry bar.

Stay tuned next time when our hero exposes a devious plot set forth by his arch enemy Simon D. Solenoid, to recruit trainees to infiltrate and sabotage repairs shops the world over, in the next spine tingling episode of "The Adventures of Transmission Man".