What I’m about to share could end the reign of my alter ego, Rock ’em, Sock ’em, but I offer my wisdom as a public service. And besides, Rock ’em, Sock ’em will live on whenever family legends are shared.

Rock ’em, Sock ’em has done much for us, going back 20 years. Been a champion when purchased items failed to live up to advertised standards.

His motives — well, my motives — were simple: When someone said “guaranteed” I took that seriously.

So many things have been replaced, free of charge. The hiking boots from Nike. The First Alert smoke alarms. The Delta soap dispenser for the kitchen sink. The Hansgrohe shower head. The stereo headset from Maxell. The computer case for my Macbook Pro.

Even a refrigerator. (I’m serious. Long story for another time. But true.)

I got points for being nice. When I replaced a 12-year-old set of Yakima surf racks, I didn’t complain that some of the components had corroded and broken. Instead, I wrote a letter about their durability, noted I was a customer since 1984 who still owned his original racks and then stuffed everything in a flat-rate U.S. Postal Service box. I was going to throw them out anyway.

A few weeks later replacements arrived in the mail.

I earned my hero’s nickname two summers ago when Firstborn and her sister Jo were driving on a cross-country adventure. Somewhere on Interstate 80 in Nebraska, the transmission blew, and they had to be towed to North Platte, a railroad town with only one remarkable feature: a visitor center shaped like a giant railroad spike.

They had to sell the car to the local Nissan dealer — after I negotiated a better deal — and catch a bus to Denver.

But here’s the heart of it: Before the trip started in Tacoma, I had the car checked by the car dealership where it had been purchased. After the transmission blew, I called the general manager to say I wanted her to refund my $70 diagnostic fee because the clean bill of health from her mechanics was baloney.

She said sure — and then paid for the three nights my daughters were stuck in a motel.

(As an encore, I convinced Firstborn’s landlord at the time to double what she was giving back on the security deposit.)

When my sister-in-law heard all this, she anointed me Rock ’em, Sock ’em. You know, like the Mattel robots game.

How does something like this start? With a faulty buckle.

My favorite brand of walking shorts, Gramicci, changed its buckle system, and I couldn’t keep my pants up. So I cut off the nylon strap and mailed it to the company with an explanation that this system was a failure. I might have included my waist size, as well.

The new shorts fit perfectly.

I come by this behavior naturally, in case you’re wondering. My father once bought a gas grill with a lifetime guarantee against rust. (In Kailua!) Over a period of 10 years, he replaced every part on that grill. Twice.

Believe me, I’m grateful for all this. How often does the consumer win? But the lesson here isn’t deep or philosophical. If you have a problem, speak up. Worst anyone can say is no.

And when you do, tell ’em Rock ’em Sock ’em sent you.

Reach Mike Gordon at 529-4803 or email mgordon@staradvertiser.com.