Girlfriends Corolla was making a horrible screeching from the rear brakes. Hmmm... Pop the wheel off, and see... Drum brakes. Damnit.
I determine that new shoes are needed. I go on down to my friendly advancedpepzone, and ask, dear friendly advancedautoboy, could you get me a set a brake shoes for an 04 Toyota Corolla? He kindly obliges, and I go back home. Then I get the car in the air, and promptly return to said autopepzone for brakleen.
Back to the car. Reading in the Chiltons manual, because I've never done drum brakes before, because why in the world do people still use drum brakes when discs have to be about the same cost and are much easier and work better, I get the old shoes off and everything is merry.
I get the first shoe on, yay! There was much rejoicing. By which I mean I stood up and walked around the parking lot for three minutes trying to get feeling back in my leg after it had fallen asleep.
I am trying to connect the spring to the front shoe. And I hit the damn sleeve on the cylinder. Brake fluid everywhere, cats and dogs, living together, mass hysteria.
At this point it is starting to get late and I have other stuff that needs to get done--aside from this, this is not a safe apartment complex after about 5:00PM. I let out a blue streak, take off the first shoe that I had put on, throw it back in the box along with all the hardware, and put the drum and wheel back on--no brakes whatsoever now in the back right. I move the car into a single parking spot (it was taking up two), obviously the pedal goes to the floor.
I hate drum brakes. Now I've gotta get the damn thing fixed by Friday, but now I don't want to touch it. And of course the shop that I trust is 6 miles away and the damn thing is an auto, so I can't risk driving it as is.
I berkeleying hate drum brakes.
/rant.