The IT Engineer Turned Rural Maintenance Man – A Tale of a 1999 Opel Ascona, a Burnt Pump, and Finnish Axe Magic

Life in the countryside is like an endless series of unplanned software updates, except instead of code, you’re patching reality itself. Tuesday morning, I had a solid plan: study for my ISTQB exam and prep for upcoming projects. But as every rural dweller knows, plans are just theoretical concepts, and the only real certainty is that something will break when you least expect it.

Act 1: The Water Pump Suicide

It all started when I went for my morning coffee and casually turned on the tap—only to hear nothing. No water. Silence. A big, dry "screw you" from the plumbing system.

"Alright, let’s debug," I thought, switching into IT mode.

Down to the technical room I went, where I was greeted by the familiar, unmistakable scent of burning electronics. That’s never a good sign. The water pump, my hard-working but tragically overconfident servant, had been running dry all night and had now transformed itself into a small, unintentional space heater.

Diagnosis: Completely fried.

After performing a quick "Is It Actually Dead?" test (a.k.a. flicking switches and swearing), I had to admit defeat: time to buy a new pump.

Act 2: The Opel Ascona Decides It’s Done

Now, normally, this is when I’d hop in the car and head to the store. But my 1999 Opel Ascona—the trusty, stubborn metal warrior—had other plans.

I turned the key.

Brrmm… brmmm… nope.

We were going nowhere.

Sighing, I stepped out and took a look. And there it was: a frozen, rust-sealed crime scene where my brakes used to be.

Act 3: The Finnish Way – If It Moves, It’s Not Broken

At this point, the options were:

1. Call for a tow truck (and pay an outrageous sum for an issue I knew I could fix myself).
2. Melt the ice patiently (but patience is not my strong suit).
3. Introduce the problem to an axe and see who wins.

Naturally, I chose Option 3.

With my trusty splitting axe in hand, I walked over to the brakes like a medieval knight about to battle a dragon.

First swing: Nothing. Second swing: A tiny crack—the first sign of victory. Third swing: A glorious, echoing KRAAAACK! that surely sent wildlife running.

And just like that, the brakes were free!

However, since they were still acting a bit too "enthusiastic" about their job, I eventually had to unassemble the brakes entirely. Turns out, the brand-new brake shoes were tuned just a little too nicely towards the drum, allowing just enough space for ice to form and lock them up. Today’s mission: reassemble them and (hopefully) have a fully operational vehicle again.

Act 4: The Professional-Level Water Pump Installation

After the Ascona’s temporary technical difficulties, I had to wait for my spouse so we could actually go buy the new pump. But once we got it, the installation went smooth as butter. After all, this wasn’t my first rodeo—I’ve done this three times before, so at this point, I might as well be a certified rural plumber (though no official body would ever recognize "installed three pumps due to pure necessity" as a qualification).

With the new pump in place, water was flowing, the Ascona was (partially) revived, and I had once again proven that countryside problem-solving is 30% experience, 20% brute force, and 50% creative swearing.

Epilogue: The Well-Deserved Feast

At the end of the day, I sat down to enjoy oven-baked salmon with cream and warm apples with cinnamon and sugar, reflecting on the universal truth of rural life:

Things will break. You will fix them. And in the end, there will always be a damn good meal waiting.