Remember how I got a new Kitchen Aid mixer?
Sure, I’d been wanting to upgrade for a while. My Artisan mixer was exactly what I needed when I began baking, but didn’t really lend itself to doubling my croissant dough recipe.*
*It also got a scary kind of hot after making three doughs in a row.
When my mixer broke, it was inconvenient, sure, but I had seen it coming.
With the wonder which is Amazon*, my new mixer was here in a matter of days, after I finally narrowed down which one I wanted.
*Side note, anyone else a little annoyed at the fact you have to scrutinize “Amazon Prime” now? Sure, you might get free shipping, but it isn’t always with the speed once guaranteed.
Even though I now had a bright, shiny, new mixer, I had a gut feeling my old mixer could be repaired.
When something of this nature needs to be fixed, the job goes to the man. That’s just been the way I’ve operated for, oh, twenty-five years now.
I do not fix things. I don’t even allow myself to hang pictures because previous attempts have been, in a word, shameful.
Usually, Lance takes care of whatever I need done within a reasonable time period*, but recently between work and busy weekends, he hasn’t had the time. So when I began asking, I got an earful of his ‘Fix-it Philosophy’.
Hubby points me towards this philosophy whenever I go to him for answers: You act like I’m an expert in fixing things. Do you know what I have to do to fix something? I google it or watch a video on how to do it. Something you can do, too.
I decided, enough was enough. It was time for me to be able to handle something like this.
Yes, that is a meat tenderizer to the right of my laptop. I quickly switched over to a hammer, promise.
After googling, “What to do when a Kitchen Aid mixer isn’t spinning”, I found a YouTube video by eReplacementParts with all the information I needed. I learned that most likely my worm gear needed to be replaced. It was an inexpensive, easy-to-order, $8 part.
When my worm gear arrived, I was pumped. I dropped everything else I had to do that day, propped my laptop on my dining table, laid out newspaper to keep my table clean, and got to work.
It seemed almost too easy as I followed as Mark removed the tilt cover, drip ring, and several screws. My first issue came when Mark directed me to use a punch and a hammer to remove the roll pin which keeps the planetary* in place.
*The part we bakers see that spins.
Have you ever seen the Honeymooners episode, “Better Living Through TV“?
Watch it and everything I am going to say next will make sense.
Of course, I didn’t have a punch, but I had a hammer and about three thousand other tools which looked close enough to a punch’s likeness. While it took Mark about .23578 seconds to get his roll pin out, it took me close to 15 minutes.
Every time I replayed the video, to see what I could possibly be doing wrong, it was like watching Ed Norton go “Zip, zip, zip” as I Ralph Kramden’d my way into more frustration.
Next, I met a battle with grease when it came time to remove the motor. Mark took his off without breaking a sweat, but knowing all this grease was hiding beneath, I assumed it was the culprit. I decided Mark had cheated by loosening his when the camera wasn’t rolling. Still, I couldn’t help feeling like I’d been punked, yet again, by my new friend, Mark.
After questioning several times whether or not I’d removed all the screws, I worked the base of the motor with my screwdriver until I was finally able to pry it off.
I finally reach the likely culprit, this tiny gear, specifically the ridged gear with all the grease in it.
One look at it and I knew I was close to victory.
But the next step required using a punch and hammer again, this time a smaller punch, to punch a tiny roll pin out in order to free the worm gear. In Mark’s words, “It doesn’t take much to remove it.”
Mark. You are a liar my friend.
And wait, you are not my friend.
Because you lied to me.
I worked that gear until my arms were sore and still couldn’t get the pin to budge. Hubby came home from work, and tried, too, finally resolving that I should go buy a punch.
Which meant going to Lowe’s.
And you guessed it, this is another thing I don’t tend to do. Call me an anti-feminist, but it’s just how I roll here, people.
The next day, I hated Mark even more than the first.
I went to Lowe’s. I found the needed punch. I purchased it for $3.98. I came home and spent the same amount of time and energy to no avail.
This was when I decided to get smart and read the video comments. Here I learned most of the men who were fixing their wive’s mixers had issues with not only this roll pin, but the first one, too!
One user’s solution was to buy the whole gear, which I found on Amazon for $13.95.
Yes, friends, I could have spent the same amount spent on the worm gear and punch tool on the entire gear and have saved myself a lot of pain and frustration.
Always read the comments when fixing something, no matter how simple Mark makes it look.
Putting it all back together went seamlessly, except for when it came time to replace the planetary’s roll pin. After cursing the day roll pins were created, I managed to hammer mine back into place.
I eagerly ran into the kitchen with my fixed mixer, unquestionably filled with the belief that it would work.
And it did.
And I was just a little* proud of myself.
*Alright, I’m lying. I was beaming from ear to ear over fixing my mixer all by myself.