So I was finally fed up with my gas gauge playing tricks on me so around like 10 o'clock at night (I think I took too much adderall) I find the DIY thread, grab my toolbox (it's actually a shoebox) and some quetips.

Now I live in an apartment and I swear I am the only person I have ever seen even pop the hood of my car. Nobody questioned when I installed my intake in the middle of the day drunk as **** while my ex broke up with me. Before that the same ex patiently waited as I bent my arms in weird angles teaching myself how to install aftermarket headlights because the instructions were in broken Engrish. Nobody questioned when I tried to install taillight overlays between class and work. This dude was fixing an AC unit next door to me as I wrestled with that annoying *** double sided 3M tape to install a "carbon fiber" roof spoiler and rear diffuser. Or when I ran three extension cords under my door so I could place my laptop on top of my car so I could figure out how to install the grounding kit that had been sitting in my bedroom for a month (this is important). I can't wait till I drive my car on blocks to do my oil change. Or if I rent a spring compressor and install some lowering coils

This was the same night, actually, I was waiting for my current girlfriend to get off of work and decided I needed to work on my car to clear my head as I had been neglecting past hobbies. So I lift up the seats, undo the covers, drop some screws, almost die from the fumes (is there a DIY to fix the G's doors from never staying open?) but I finshed. 10-15 quetips aught to do it. Start up the G and giver her a rev to make sure nothing is broken and feel proud. I get shivers when I hear the rasp of a misspelled word for "motor" that sells air filters and tubes with graphs and numbers made up by 5 year olds. Go inside to wash the grime, sweat, and blood off of me. And drink water. My girlfriend arrives and is pretty disinterested in what I have accomplished but more concerned why I felt the need to disassemble my car in the dead of night. "I did this and this blah blah hop in let me show you I'm so proud of myself!" Slapshift like a boss for a couple of blocks and park my new and improved toy.

Anyways, I wake up early the next morning to go to class and the car won't crank. Huh, that's weird, I had half a tank and we were cruising last night. Go inside grab my girlfriend's keys and pull her car over to try to jump my car in case I left one of my fancy LED map lights on. I try this for like 30 minutes. Residents are driving by on their commutes to work without even looking.

I get frustrated at this point and decide that the grounding kit was the problem. This entire time my head is telling me "How could wires run from the negative terminal of the battery to other parts of metal stop the car from cranking." I'm not saying I have a masters in electrical engineering, but I did learn to solder at like 15 by working on guitars and making my own vapes (e-cigs) at 18.

I uninstall seven wires from my engine which involves retorqueing 2-3 plenum bolts. Try to jump it again. Nope. Then this bright idea pops in my head, "why don't I try to start it on a hill by backing it down the parking lot!"

I soon realized that this will not work with an automatic car and that a car with no power steering or brakes is extremely hard to control. I end up at an angle similar to the answer to the bonus question of my calculus final literally an inch away from this Ford Focus. I'm cursing and trying to summon any sort of car knowledge. The terminals look corroded! I grab an old toothbrush, water, and baking soda and scrub the hell out of each terminal. Still won't start. "Well, I did mess with the fuel pump/gas tank last night, maybe that has something to do with it." Lift the seat. Undo those bastard screws. Dry as the Sahara. I facepalm and walk inside.

At this point I'm tired, frustrated, dirty, and just done with the day. My girlfriend hasn't even woken up. I lay back down and try to forget that my whip, my prized possession, is crippled.

Around 30 minutes later or even less there's a knock at my door. This chick whom I sort of recognize goes, "Is that your black car?" I laugh inside my head that she automatically knows that's my car and which apartment number is mine.

I blush a little and say, "Yeah, sorry, it wouldn't start and I thought if I backed it down the hill it would work. I think you can make it out." So I awkwardly stand there and watch as she barely clears my black beauty 2 door with her puke green four doors more ******. I bet every time I pop my hood from now on she's going to assume my car is broken.

This took course over like 2 hours, no joke. I smoke a cig or 10 and decided a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, and I gotta make the drive of shame. I ran out of gas at my own apartment. "Hey babe, my car is somehow out of gas, I'll be back before you have work." Drive to the O'Reilly's literally a mile away and wait in line for like 5 minutes to buy a gas can. Which by the way, I don't know the last time you bought a gas can, but they overcharge the hell out of them. a 1 gallon can was like 20 bucks. Then I have to drive to the gas station and awkwardly squeeze as much of that 93 gallon octane into that bright red canister.

Her car stinks like gas, I stink like gas, but I made it home. I somehow manage to get most of the gas into my gas tank despite the nozzles they sell gas cans with which require like 4 hands to operate. Once as much gas that's going to go in is in, what do you know, the car starts.

I feel like a complete retard and drive the one mile to the gas station so my car doesn't die at a stop light. As I'm reflecting my stupidity I start to notice liquid at my feet. "OH **** OH **** WHAT THE **** DID I DO TO MY CAR," stopping the pump trying not to draw attention to a sports car pissing itself. I pry open that stupid last seat and what do you know, my retarded self forgot to put the lids back on the fuel pump/gauges when I was troubleshooting my car. Luckily I left all screwdriver and pliers and crap in the back so I scoot the passenger seat forward with the lever and replace the covers while trying not to lose my balance on feet standing in gas. Wouldn't want that on the upholstery. My car has had the slight smell of gas ever since, my theory is that with the lid off the tank, the gas was being pumped so violently that it was splashing up the hole and probably found a random hole in the frame of the G.

Luckily that solved the issue and I had not somehow punctured my gas tank. Lesson learned: if you leave the lid off of the gas tank/fuel pump, the car deposits octane on the ground.

Quick aside: today reminded me of how most children are raised to help those in need or what not, but seeing people ignore me and even give me attitude over car trouble just put the icing on the cake. "Hah maybe if that kid stopped installing turbos at midnight his car would start," "Let me just ignore the young man next to me who's car is leaking highly flammable liquid," "Oh don't stop pump he buy premium gas let him pour on ground." (I'm not being racist, an Indian family runs the gas station by my house and I go there more than any other gas station). I'm not saying I needed help really but I just feel like I would have, or at least was raised, to react differently if I were witnessing a similar situation.

So I wasted a morning, $20 something for a gas can plus whatever gas leaked on the ground, and undid an hours worth or work by removing my grounding kit. Why the gas gauge went from empty to half a tank? No clue. I'm assuming one of the floats got stuck on something or the ECU just decided to give me a middle finger. I guess my next project is going to be replacing those nasty battery terminals and reinstalling that grounding kit...damn the butt dyno loved the shift that one test drive...

Don't even get me started on the time I removed my spare, jack, and all the tools for "dat MPG bro" and got a flat a few days later. The spare ended up being flat too...

Welp that was a story from a couple of weeks ago. Maybe you enjoyed it, maybe you didn't, my insomnia is back so I decided to moan and groan about my massive brain fart. Ya know maybe I did kill some brain cells without much ventilation while I cleaned those gauges...let me think of more car mods you probably shouldn't preform in an apartment block parking lot.

 

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and wish the OP best of luck.

Words of advice for the future-- get yourself some low profile ramps for oil changes and do not swap coils without understanding how your entire suspension geometry will be changed.

 

Small comfort in company:

https://g35driver.com/forums/g35-sed...ry-thread.html