So, a few days ago, I hear a little grinding on the back rear, when I applied the brakes. I knew what it was. I just wanted to whistle past the graveyard and get to the weekend to do the rear pads. It's odd that the rear have worn put in advance of the front, but such is life. There are few sounds worse than the metal on metal of a worn out brake. To make matters worse, with the wear and what have you, I could tell that the caliper was not retracting fully, because I had that nice grinding sound as I drove, with no pressure on the brakes. So, I didn't wait for the weekend, I picked up a set of pads this morning and did the rear pads, right after lunch. I changed into work clothes and started with gloves on, but as is always the case, I chucked the gloves about 20% of the way into the job and dove in head first. It always seems like a duck mounting a football (thanks Herb Brooks) getting the caliper back on and lining up the bolts. In any event, I got it done, just in time to go pick up my daughter at high school. I was covered in road grit and grease. Washed my hands with the dish soap (made a mess in the sink) and ran off to get her. Fortunately (for her), I didn't need to get out of the car. We got home and were in the kitchen shooting the breeze and she says "You've got a little grease on your nose..." I looked in the mirror and had this huge swath of black dirt on me. She laughed. Normally, I'd expect a high school aged girl to be mortified of her dad showing up at school covered in grease.