I am definitely my father's son. Or so my dad told me this afternoon, when I told him how I cut my finger.

While I was visiting at my parents home in Hurricane, Utah this afternoon, my sister pulled her Pontiac Sunbird into the driveway, home from work in Zion National Park. The other day she'd noticed that her car had a small coolant leak. After parking in the driveway, she opened the hood of her car, looking for the source of the leak. Soon she came inside the house and announced she'd discovered the source of the coolant leak. It was a radiator hose -- it had a hole in it, spraying a hot mixture of antifreeze and water into the engine compartment.

My father and I came outside to have a look. The top hose connecting the engine to the radiator had burst, or at least sprung a leak. It's a good thing the leak was in the top hose, since replacing it should be a simple job, one that we could do ourselves.

She got into her car, and I helped push it down the hot concrete driveway, into the shade of a pecan tree. Then I dragged a garden hose over to the car, turned it on a trickle, and used the small stream of water to cool off the radiator cap and hose. Even though her car was still warm, I knew that the leak had relieved all pressure from the coolant system, so it was safe for me to open the radiator cap.

After removing the cap, I tried to yank out the thermostat valve, which, in her make and model of car, sits just underneath. It was stuck! I hooked my right index finger around it, and gave it another stronger yank. Pop! Out it came, suddenly, and without warning.

Ouch! In the process my middle finger had banged against something sharp, slicing into the flesh just above the second joint. I grabbed the nearby hose and bathed the wound in cool water. Blood freely gushed from the gash, mixing with the water to make a red effluent.

I let the blood flow freely for a moment as I examining the wound. It was a clean slice, through the skin into tissue below, but nothing serious. After a thorough wash, I clamped the gash closed and applied pressure to stop the bleeding, then hollered to my sister, asking her to go inside and get a Band-Aid.

The applied pressure did its work, and soon, with my sister's help, the cut was secure in the protective custody of a Band-Aid-wanna-be adhesive bandage. Simple cut, simple solution.

We needed a new radiator hose, so my sister and I hopped into my vehicle and drove to the nearby NAPA Auto Parts store. She bought a new hose, and we brought it back.

Once back at the ranch, I went looking for some vice grips or pliars to squeeze the clamps on the punctured hose, so we could remove and replace it. I grabbed a pair from off a shelf where my dad stores some of his tools, and returned to the car.

My dad came out of the house with some pliars and met me at the car. I showed him my injury and commented that I couldn't seem to open the hood of any vehicle to do something without banging, bruising, cutting, or scratching my hands or arms in some way. As we worked together to remove the clamps and punctured hose, he replied and said that I must be his son, since he was the same way. His hands and fingers bear the scar tissue of many years of repair-related injuries. I chuckled and had to agree.

The old hose was soon off. We removed the clamps completely, slid them onto the new hose, then installed it. Once the new hose was securely in place, we topped off the radiator with coolant fluid, replaced the thermostat valve, secured the radiator cap, then topped off the coolant reservoir. The simple, easy-to-do repair was done, and my sister's car was once more coolant-leak-free.

I'm so glad that the leak wasn't somewhere else -- a hole in the radiator, a blown gasket, or even a leak in the lower radiator hose which is more difficult to get at.

It was thus I cut my finger, and in so doing, discovered just how much I share in common with my father. *grin*