Blog

Short blog posts, journal entries, and random thoughts. Topics include a mix of personal and the world at large.

Turn it down a notch

Public service announcement: don’t be like me. Don’t chase every little interior rattle in that used car you purchased. It’s not worth the hassle or mental anguish. Take the car for what it is: imperfect. It gets me from point A to point B, and the air conditioning works superbly. What more is there to ask for?

Heck, even new cars are not immune from interior rattles. My 2013 model year Subaru WRX STI is kind of known for a rattly interior. Of course you can take your new car to the dealer to have the technicians there chase the sound for you. But then you’d risk introducing new noises when the techs inevitably take apart the interior to investigate. Or worse, they break a piece and don’t tell you about it. (Don’t ask me how I know.)

You know how just because someone is a pro in one domain, it doesn’t necessarily transfer to other domains? A Michelin three star chef might be horrible at playing pickleball. I think the same framework applies to my innate perfectionism and obsessiveness. Those qualities are a positive when it comes to my job. Attention to detail and comprehensiveness is what gets me paid. Let me sweat the details and point out areas of inadequacy.

The same qualities are a huge negative when applied to my hobbies. The compulsion for perfection sucks out the fun. And that is why we do hobbies, right? For the sheer fun of it. There’s a happy medium between aiming high and self-flagellation for mistakes. A medium I’ve yet to achieved. I just spend a solid hour Googling various causes and fixes for front dash rattles for my Golf GTI. What a waste of time! It’s a used car, the interior is going to make some noises. Get over it.

The problem is: I can’t simply turn down the obsessiveness knob. It’s me. At least the Michelin star chef can readily admit defeat against a pickleball master.

Using the proper fluid

A dirty front windshield is very annoying to me. Because I am an obsessive psychopath. That is why every time I get into the car, I hit the washers to remove the previous day’s detritus off my field of view. It isn’t perfect, of course - only the sections covered by the wipers get cleaned, but it’s good enough.

The constant washing presents a problem: I go through washer fluid by the gallons. (I was amazed to read that some drivers use so little windshield fluid that their cars are still on the factory fill!) Throughout my car owning history, I have bought distilled water at the local grocery store. Distilled because it’s doubly free of minerals, so there’s no chance of leaving water spots on the paint. So far, so easy.

Modern cars have sensor in the washer fluid tank that notifies drivers via the dash when the levels get low. The sensor achieves this by utilizing the water as a conducting loop. When the fluid level is no longer high enough to complete the signal, it then trips the warning light. Pretty intuitive and easy.

On my Golf GTI, however, the warning light remains on even when I’ve just refilled the tank. Turns out, distilled water - lacking any sorts of minerals - isn’t conductive enough to complete the signal loop. Sure there’s water submerging the sensor points, but it’s effectively doing nothing.

The solution is simple: use proper windshield fluid. Therefore, for the first time in my 20 years of driving, I actually filled store-bought washer fluid into one of my cars. A bit of a hassle, since the auto parts store is further away from me than the grocery store. Also, a gallon of windshield fluid is some two dollars more expensive than a gallon of distilled water. Inflation continues…

Half of it is gone

Surprise! Half of 2026 is already gone. I hope you are able to look back and say the past six months has been time well spent. And if you cannot say that for yourself, then it’s time to get off your ass!

I would say my first half of the year has been rather uneventful. But that’s good, right? Boring is good. It is suppose to be boring. Novelty is great, but too much of it means a lack of focus. You pick something to do for a long time and there are for sure going to be dog days.

Much of my weekends in 2026 was focused on getting my new-to-me 2019 VW Golf GTI up to shape. It was exhilarating to wake up on Saturdays with the lastest thing to fix, or the latest item to install. If fairy godparents somehow bestowed upon me the endless money glitch, buying used cars and fixing them up would be something I genuine would do everyday.

Obviously that’s not how reality works. People speak of following passions, but as someone with an entrepreneurial business degree, passion is only the spark. The fuel to sustain the burn is where the proverbial rubber meets the road. Often times people are unwilling to marinate in the minutiae of it all. How are you going to sell your talents? Putting down “it will work out” for the marketing section would have gotten you an F in class.

Or perhaps there isn't fuel to burn at all - the thing you’re passionate about is not financially viable. For me, there’s very little business in fixing up used cars to then not sell. So a hobby it remains. That means for five days out of the week, I have to put in time at a place I’m not nearly as enthused about, in order to be able to do the thing I am super motivated for. And honestly, that in between time can get mighty frustrating. Never mind the other parts of human living that gets in the way, like eating and self care.

Those afflicted with passion can attest to the times when you’re so into doing something, sleep is a mere suggestion. You just want to keep going. And you do!

I think I’ll spend rest of 2026 coming to terms with that fact that my ability to follow my passions is predicated on accepting that it will be cyclical. And that the days without will be way more numerous than the day with. No wonder artists of pre-modern times had moneyed patrons!

Don't be like me

If I ever get the fortune to have children, I pray they won’t be afflicted with perfectionism and obsessive compulsiveness like me. Attention to the details may have positives, but mental anguish definitely exists on the other side.

Perfectionism is a myth, is it not? Everything on this earth is experiencing atrophy. We’re all decaying at a certain rate, animate or otherwise. Putting a brand new car in a hermetically sealed chamber is only delaying the process. And now you can’t even use the car.

It’s with cars where my enthusiasm and obsessive compulsiveness collide into sleepless nights. Even though I know perfect is but a monetary phase when the car gets final released at the factory, it doesn’t stop me from trying to preserve it. But that’s just not possible! No matter how careful you are, as you interact with the car, where be driving it or maintenance, blemishes are bound to happen.

Most recently I replaced the glovebox on my Golf GTI. I wanted the nicely felt-lined version that my 2019 model did not come with. During the process I slightly mangled a piece of the interior plastic. Ask any other person and they would genuinely say it looks fine. But not me! I’ve been trying all sorts of remedies to realign the piece to just a bit more perfect, and every attempt seems to have compounded the issue.

Of course, the best solution is to buy the piece brand new. Good thing my psychopathy doesn’t permeate to personal finance. If I’d bought a brand new replacement piece for every time I merely scratched a part on a car - and yes, that does frustrate me to no end - I’d be a guest on Financial Audit.

The lesson I am telling myself is to know when to stop. Obsessing over the details is fine up to the certain point. I can’t let perfect get in the way of functional. Actions have reactions, and sometimes the pursuit of perfection (hello, Lexus) can only make things worse.

Overnight parts from Latvia

In my ongoing quest to make my 2019 VW Golf GTI just a bit that perfect, I’ve had to source parts from many vendors. eBay has been clutch for interior pieces out of wrecked cars. Many hundreds of dollars were saved instead of buying the parts brand new. For everything else, there’s MasterCard.

For new replacement parts, a source I’ve successfully used is E-acca. A parts sourcing company located in Latvia (try finding it on a world map), E-acca procures OEM parts in Europe and sell them for far cheaper than what I have to pay at an American dealership. It’s cheaper even when factoring in international shipping, and import tariffs (thank you, President Trump).

This is the positives of globalization in action.

The only caveat is that you’re going to have to wait a bit for the items. If you’re spoiled by Amazon Prime shipping, or simply walking into a parts department, then a month’s lead-time from order to delivery might not be for you. Even if E-acca has the part in stock at their own warehouse, those of us in the United States are still looking at two weeks of logistics time.

Personal example: I ordered a harmonic damper for the MQB platform (which the GTI is based) on the 5th of May. E-acca did not stock this internally, so they had to order from their supplier. That process took until the 27th of May, which is when I got an email asking to pay for shipping. (Actual shipping cost is calculated once the item is packaged and ready to ship.) The damper shipped out via Fedex on the 1st of June, arriving at my door on the 8th.

Obviously, if you need a part rather quickly, E-acca is not a good option. However, if you’re like me and want to maximize savings in this economy, not-so-overnight parts from Latvia is a very good option. On that single damper alone I saved about $30 versus sourcing it from a company in the States. That difference can add up tremendously over multiple parts, of which I plan to buy plenty of in the near and far future.

E-acca, can recommend!

Old man enthusiast

In my early 20s of car enthusiasm, the prime thing to do to a car is to lower it. The wheel gaps from the factory always seem to be a tad high. Of course then the first modification item I bought for my purely pedestrian Toyota Corolla was a set of lowering springs.

In my now late 30s of car enthusiasm, I have no desire to do the same to my current Golf GTI. Yes, the wheel gaps are rather enormous on it too. But with experience comes wisdom, and what starts at lowering springs can quickly spiral into many unintended consequences.

So let’s say the car is lowered. Job done, right? Well now the wheels look kind of sunken into the body. You can remedy this by either putting on wheel spacers to punch out the wheels a bit, or go the full route and buy an entirely new set of wheels with a lower offset specification. That’s money you didn’t intend on spending, but soon as you put on lowering springs, you’re already in quick sand.

Lower offset wheels creates a new problem: rock chips. The wheels sticking further out means less of the existing fender work can protect the debris being constantly flung. The car’s lower rear quarter panel gets pummeled. You can either live with stone chips, or put paint protection film onto the quarters. Ah yes, more money to spend.

A lowered car naturally means the bottom of the bumper is closer to the ground. Poorly graded driveways are now the worst enemies. Leaving a gas station onto the road is an exercise of angular contortion to avoid scraping the front. Meanwhile, that normal person in a stilted SUV simply drive straight without a care.

These days I want my cars to work without any fuss. Driving should not be stressful! Limiting NVH - noise, vibration, and harshness - matters greatly to me, as if I’m a boomer retired grandfather. The GTI rides relatively superbly from the factory, with an excellently insulated cabin space. The last thing I want to do is to begin ruining that by installing shorter springs and stiffer suspension components, purely for looks.

Don't forget your dip stick!

It’s been awhile since I’ve owned a car that I actually have to check the oil levels on periodically. Turbocharged engines - like the one in my Golf GTI - can develop an oil consumption habit. That’s just the nature of forcing in more than base atmospheric pressure into the combustion chamber. So it’s important to keep track so that the engine isn’t starved of oil. You kind of don’t want to wait for the low oil level warning light to come on.

Unless of course you have a late model BMW. My previous BMW M2 has a turbocharged engine, but no physical dip stick. The method to measure the oil level is through the infotainment menu, which nobody does, and I certainly didn’t. How would you know your BMW turbo engine is in good health vis a vis motor oil? The low level light never comes on in between changes. And thankfully on my M2 it never did over the five years of ownership.

The Golf has a physical dipstick, so I’ve been checking oil levels at every refueling stop. But there’s a problem. In order to get an accurate reading, the ground has to be level. Unfortunately, there is no standard that mandates gas stations to be graded flat. Depending on which way the floor is slanted, the reading could falsely swing optimistic or pessimistic. If you’re a psychopath like me, then you’re seeking out gas stations with as level a spot as possible.

Normal people don’t do this. Heck, normal drivers hardly check the oil. The warning light is the call to action. Modern engines have absurdly long oil change intervals, too. The BMW M2 calls for every 10,000 miles, or one year. Actual mechanics would advise around 5,000 mile intervals for turbocharged engines. Perhaps it’s a testament to how excellent engine and oil technology have become that we don’t hear much about adverse oil consumption and subsequent failed motors (outside of Hyundai’s GDI).

Unfortunately, the EA888 engine in the GTI can be bit of an oil drinker, so I’m going to keep tabs on it like a hawk. I can remember doing the same with a Subaru WRX STI, carrying a quart jug of motor oil at the ready. That’s car life.