Ball Joint Apocalypse

While everyone else was busy "taking the knee" or burning NFL logos, I was taking the rig to the shop. You see, the front suspension was sounding rough and creaky.

Where was the creak coming from? Sure, somewhere at the front but where exactly; hard to tell. I rocked the stationary leviathan back and forth, trying to pinpoint the apocalyptic creak. Like a hot coal falling from a smoking thurible, it seemed to be coming from behind the wheels.

Underneath an F150

So I climbed under the thing and had a look, all the while pushing up on the Beast to provoke the eschatological creak. Was it the shocks, tie rods, sway bar or ball joints? 

Not The Problem But Change Out The Ancient Shocks Anyway

With a sinking feeling that the end of the world was near, I figured it was probably the ball joints. But, hope against hope, I sprayed lithium grease and WD40 over everything, all on the off-chance that a miracle would occur and lube would magically cure the hideous creak.

 Note The Eschatological Bottom Ball Joint

It didn't, no more than words like "millionaire socialist hypocrite" would cure the concussed minds of our nation's baller geniuses. That's because Ford, in its wisdom, doesn't build grease inlets into F150 ball joints. You can spray all the lube you want and it's not going to grease up the interior of the joints, which dry out and die.

Brazen

I know, you'll scorn me for not attempting the job myself but I took the rig to the Shop of The Brazen Pineapple that rests upon the Seven Hills of this rural haven and they quoted me $700, mostly labor.

Genius Patrol

The moral of this end-times tale of country life in Texas is simple. Built-in obsolescence is evil, and learn how to replace your ball joints or pay the price.

Here endeth the lesson.

LSP