FRIDAY.

It is Friday. Was, rather, it was Friday. Last day of the week, a day when literally anything is possible.

I chose this day to --

THE PAST.

Pardon me, but I've forgotten some necessary back-story.

See, in early June I'd attempted to replace the easily-pliable, ten-foot-long springs on my WRX with a set of progressive lowering springs from Epic Engineering. That didn't go so well off the cuff, but after a week I managed to get my replacement shock (to fix the top hat perch I'd snapped) and camber bolt (to replace the one I'd stripped to hell), and got the car back on the road.

All was well for about 15 miles, at which time I noticed that the car was encountering bumps -- bumps which were previously merely noticeable -- in a way that I would have to classify as "frighteningly jarring." (And, no, not "my car has been lowered and I notice things more" jarring, but rather "my car has fallen off of a cliff and onto a bomb" jarring.) I was pissed. Got the car home, jacked it up, pulled off the front passenger-side wheel, and very quickly noticed the cause of my discomfort: oil and more oil bleeding out of the strut.

Bitching.

Checked the other side, which was fine, put things back together, and went inside to seethe and consider my options. Koni had announced pricing and ship dates for their new Sport adjustable shocks and strut inserts, and said pricing was very reasonable (thank you, promotional sale). The only other option (aside from reordering OEM units, which were upwards of $220 or so per unit) was a set of as-of-yet-unreleased shocks and struts from Bilstein. These were not adjustable, and were much more expensive, and were also unavailable, so Koni it was (no hard feelings, Bilstein). Unfortunately, the Konis were on backorder for another month (thanks again, promotional sale). Whatever, I clicked Buy.

Then I waited.

Then, after a couple of weeks, I began to notice this weird kind of ticking from the front passenger side, which I attributed to a CV joint or wheel bearing that was becoming increasingly agitated by the harsh impacts it was having to deal with. And, to my great delight, it was getting worse. Like, "I am afraid to make left turns for fear of losing the whole hub" worse. Equal parts infuriated and terrified, I cut driving it back to the bare necessities.

Well, eventually that "weird kind of ticking" had evolved into a nearly constant grinding noise that only went away when exposing the wheel to positive or negative acceleration (lateral forces had little effect). It had became so bad, in fact, that I could no longer ignore it, and so I called up Subaru to have them take a look (it was time for the first round of maintenance anyway, so what the hell).

But even after setting up an appointment, I was so mad at myself for being unable to pinpoint the issue that I relaunched my search and stumbled upon this archived post from the SaabCentral forums, which described my issue to a T. And, what's more, it didn't have to do with costly CV joints or wheel hubs! Unfortunately, it did have to do with me admitting to being a totally absent-minded amateur (I am).

I was missing a lug nut, and I had been for easily a hundred miles. The result? The lug nuts adjacent to the absentee had also worked themselves loose, and the grinding was actually the sound of the wheel lugs getting very cozy with the lug holes to the tune of 800 rotations per mile. "FML," as they say.

Anyway, long story short, I had Subaru slap a new lug nut on there when I took it in for maintenance. They called me back and said, "Your car is done. Also, you've got a nail in your tire and will need a new one." In response, I bought a full set of Star Specs. (Buy my old tires.)

My problems had been solved, or so I thought.

AS I WAS SAYING: "FRIDAY."

My Koni Yellows finally showed up around the 20th of July (45 or so days after blowing the passenger strut, which was slowly joined in its grave by the overworked driver's-side unit), along with a slew of Whiteline bushings and some RalliTek sway bars and end links. I was going to fix my problems!

Fate, which had apparently not had enough laughs at my expense by this time, thought otherwise. I lugged all my crap over to mom's garage, unloaded, and was beginning to remove the front wheels when...

Sudden stop. The lug nut which Subaru had replaced wouldn't budge, and neither would the other two on either side of it. My thoughts at this point are, "What the shit." I had a torch, I had penetrating oil, and I (of course) had a big ol' breaker bar, but I was hesitant to try to force the things off. Why? Well, the threads had obviously been damaged during the many miles I'd been driving short a lug nut, and putting the new one on had cross-threaded some pretty mangled metal. What if I couldn't get them back on again after removing them? What if I broke the studs clean off? I didn't want to be without a car altogether (I'd already spent 16 years of my life in that situation, after all).

So, in a dazzling display of good judgment, I replaced the lugs I'd removed from the front, and shifted operations to the back. That end was easier anyway, since I wouldn't have to do any drilling and cutting (which frankly terrified me).

There's not much to say about that, either. I removed the old shocks (which were in fine working order), swapped the springs onto the Konis, reinserted in the vehicle, and bolted everything back up.

Oh, there is something though. You may (but shouldn't) recall that, last time, I had a hell of a time with a bar trying to pry the rear arms down low enough to get the shock assembly in and out. Well, this time it really was not looking like I was going to be able to get things out at all in the first place (my bar had gotten bent last time, and I was therefore down on leverage). Fortunately, I found that the scissor jack, when turned upside-down, fit neatly between the body of the car and the upper arm, allowing me to very easily maneuver the arms however I needed. Worked like a charm.

Some say wussier swaybars can't even be conceived.

So, right, that was all taken care of. Had some extra time what with not having to do the struts, so I took care of the sways and end links, packed up my stuff, and headed out.

FOR THE LAST DAMNED TIME, FRIDAY.

One week had elapsed, during which I'd gotten new wheel studs in on the front passenger side and replaced all damaged lug nuts (four, as it turns out; thanks, service department of Ganley Westside). It was Friday yet again, and I was back on the road to mom's place, car loaded down with new things for me to break.

And yet, amazingly -- flabbergastingly, even, if that is possible -- I didn't break shit. I know, I can't believe it either!

So, right, the fun stuff. Pulled off the struts, and this is the condition in which I found them:

McHydraulicfluid

This was obviously no good, so I proceeded to drill out the bottoms and drain the hydraulic fluid within. Fun fact: I've heard this is supposed to be some of the most foul-smelling stuff that could conceivably come out of a car, transmission fluid included. I figured that was mostly rubbish, since they only had about three thousand miles on them. However, as it turns out, the stuff does in fact smell like a gigantic smashed ladybug (if you're not familiar, the short of it is, "Yes, it's the worst"). I didn't have a proper container into which to drain the vile stuff, so it took the place of an 80-degree cup of fast food soda.

After that came some pretty straightforward (but tedious) hacksaw-ing off of the tops of the struts, followed by gutting and further draining. In case you don't know how to imagine a cut pipe, here's a photograph:

Decapitation was the only suitable end for this rat bastard.

And that's that! All that was left was to slip in the new inserts and bolt things up. Oh, right, except my hex wrenches were too small, and by this point it was 11:30pm. Well shit.

SATURDAY.

New inserts, old bodies.

No sob story here: I went out in the morning, bought a set of standard and metric hex sockets, and returned to the garage. I reassembled the struts (which turned out beautifully, thanks for asking), put everything back together, and packed back up.

I twisted that thing.

And that was that! The car handles like all the dreams, even moreso after having ridden on what was essentially a leaping, crashing dolphin for the 45 days leading in. Even after all the hassle and idiocy, I am nothing but thrilled: I learned loads, got a lot of new tools, and improved my car.

But what was the biggest lesson I've learned? That vertically-oriented photos are a bitch to arrange in an attractive fashion in a post like this.