I cut the fabric, pinned the first edge, and set up the machine. The thread was too thick for the needle, so I changed it and moved on. As soon as I started sewing, everything went awry. The machine kept eating the bobbin thread, and the tension seemed to be off no matter what I set it to. I would go 6 inches, and the needle thread would break. I would finish a seam, only to find out the bobbin thread was nowhere to be found. It seemed like I tried everything, and nothing helped. In the end, I was so frustrated that I actually sewed the edges wrong- I had created the flap on opposite sides (creating two triangular flaps- front left and rear right). Awesome. Too irritated to rip it out and do it right, I just said, “Fuck it.” and stuck my windows in it anyway.
Adding to my woe, I was convinced that I had destroyed my sewing machine with a combination of poor maintenance and heavy duty thread. Normally this wouldn’t be all that distressing- I’d just chuck it and buy a new one. It’s my way. Except that this particular machine was Scott’s first Christmas gift to me. I didn’t want to let it go that easily. Naturally, I turned to the internet for help.
First I found a few places nearby that offered sewing machine repair services. The one shop that listed a price wanted $90. I could only assume that covered labor only, and it seemed a little steep. My next Google search was (and this is where things get really interesting): “how to fix your own sewing machine.”
The first result I read warned to check your needle- that 9 out of 10 times, sewing machine malfunction is due to an improperly inserted needle. Pssht. As if that applied to me. I clicked on. The next result was from eHow, and it was so deliciously simple that it HAD to be right. It instructed me to remove the plastic bits, vacuum out the lint and any wayward thread, oil some bits, and grease others. Replace plastic bits. I cackled manically to myself as I thought about how I was going to save tens of dollars with my brilliant plan!
Yesterday, I went to the hardware store to get the oil and white lithium grease I’d need. “This is so freaking awesome,” I thought on the way home. “I’m going to fix my own machine for less than $7!” My next thought was that I HAD to blog this. I would stun a very small group of family and fellow knitters with my mechanical prowess, and the prideful high would last for weeks. Maybe even months! Well, I will amaze you… but mostly with my vast stupidity.
I gathered all the items necessary for my little project, and took a photo. It’s rare that I realize a golden blogging opportunity before it actually happens, and I wanted to document it well. But before I started, I wanted to test the machine. I had some cotton fabric and standard thread- I wondered if maybe it was just the heavier fabric and thread that had been a problem. As I changed needles once again, I thought back to that first website. A quick glance in the manual told me that I was, in fact, an idiot. The needle was in backwards. After putting it in correctly, the machine ran without breaking either thread. The tension still seemed a bit wonky, though, and that was the only nudge I needed to continue on my quest to crack that sucker open. It turns out I had grown highly curious of how a sewing machine works, and really wanted to open it up.
On I went, taking photos along the way. Not knowing how exactly all these plastic parts come off, and not having a manual that goes much beyond needle insertion and bobbin winding, I guessed. I took out screws where it seemed like it might do something. Eventually I got a panel off the bottom, and one off the side. Something in the back of my mind told me to stop before I got into trouble, but I ignored it. 30 seconds later, I was unscrewing the bit that apparently holds the tension wheel in place when shit hit the fan.
First, the tension wheel sprang out before I could get a good look at how it was in there, so that I could put it back correctly. I knew that was a problem, but kept going anyway. Still trying to figure out how to get the main plastic cover off, I sighted a screw near the bobbin winder. It was the auto-cutoff bit, and it looked to me like it might hold a secret… Unfortunately it’s secret was a bolt on the end of the nut I removed, which dropped into the shadowy world inside the machine (which I was still so desperate to expose) as I unscrewed it. I shook the machine, and heard it rattle around a bit. Idea! I could just shake it out! I shook the machine feverishly over the kitchen table, straining to hear a sound that might be a small nut hitting the table. Nothing. I shook it at every angle, until eventually it lodged itself into a cozy corner of the machine never to be heard again.
That’s when I realized I was in way over my head. The little nut was probably stuck in a gear somewhere, ready to do some serious damage in retaliation for all that shaking about. Not wanting to risk unscrewing anything more, and having no other options, I began to put the machine together as best I could. Most of it went fine- I had smartly labeled all the pieces. But that damned little tension wheel gave me a lot of grief. It probably took me 45 minutes to get that sucker back in, and it still didn’t go in right. Something like 27 little pieces need to be coordinated just so in order to screw it back in place. Freaking impossible.
Today I called a couple places about repairs. I asked about their prices and turnaround time, and the cheapest and fastest was a place in Gaithersburg on East Diamond. I had the address from the innerwebs, and at lunch I headed over. Except when I got to the address, I saw only auto shops. Confused and thinking maybe they had moved, I called from a nearby parking lot. It turns out the guy who fixes sewing machines is an auto mechanic. The garage is the right place. Okay then! A couple of minutes later, a very nice man covered in motor oil took my machine, and tried not to laugh at me when I explained my situation. He said he’ll call when it’s done. I’m crossing my fingers.
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