A Toyota pickup was towed in to me with an inoperative clutch. When the engine was started it sounded like a barrel of rocks rolling downhill and the truck would not move.
Upon disassembly I found the throwout bearing exploded, the pressure plate grenaded, and hunks of friction material broken off the disc.
The elderly truck owner vehemently insisted that I “patch it all back together.”. No way that will or can happen. I finally had to call the guy’s son to talk some sense into his dad. The son finally told me to put it together right no matter what it needed and he would foot the bill. Done, and the truck was fine.
A year later there was a knock on my door one Sunday evening about 10 o’clock. Some younger guy standing there whom I had never seen.
He told me that his boss (the elderly truck owner) had told him to talk to me about whether or not I was going to stand behind the head gasket job I did on the truck.
What head gasket? I did a clutch; nothing more. The young guy left a little humbled but I assured him I wasn’t upset with him at all. I did feel very sorry for the young man being put into that position.