Author: Graham

Alfa Romeo Milano Verde Part 3: Rebuild

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I get the idea that foreign or classic car owners on the coasts often have “a guy” to help them out of trouble when things start to fall apart.  For instance, my dad, when he was piecing together his 1973 3.0 CS, had most of the work done at shops within a 15 mile radius of our house in York, PA.  To have the carbs tuned, he sent the car down the road to the shop with plenty of Alfas out front.  For upholstery, he commissioned a shop downtown with a slew of Grand Wagoneers in the lot, and, at one point etched into my memory, a Watusi bull in various stages of meat grinding inside the shop.  To get the brakes ready for inspection, he dropped the car off behind a trailer park, close to the river.  He kept the car in shape without ever leaving York County.

Living in Columbus, IN, undertaking an Alfa V6 rebuild posed some geographical challenges.  The only European shop in the county was the local Import Auto shop, where I buy all of my VW and BMW parts.  So, for ignition and fuel system components, I had the convenience of stopping by after work to pick up parts.  I asked around for recommendations on local machine shops, and drove south to Jackson County, where I found a shop for head work, and a shop to take care of the bottom end. 

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Mini Cooper Coupe JCW: Brad revisits his youth

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This post comes to us from Brad, a friend of the Blythbros!

It’s 2001, I’m 14 and sitting in the driver’s seat of the “New” MINI at the Boston car expo.  Up to this point, the only car I have driven involves pedals, a lever that applies a metal rod to one of the rear wheels for “Braking”, and is badged “KETTLER”.  But in my mind and dreams, I have driven across the country a hundred times.  I picture myself driving this MINI, I depress the clutch and pull the gear lever into second *CLUNK*, then into third *CLUNK*, it feels like a straighter path into third than it should be.  I like it.  I reach for the center console where my eyes have caught sight of the gleaming row of toggle switches.  Tales of my father’s Jaguar XKE wash over me and my heart races as I flip them up and down.  The battery is disconnected so nothing happens but that’s not the point, the simple mechanical click is reward enough.  Then I hear my father’s voice, it is 10pm on a school night and we have to leave.  As we walk away I glance back and know that someday I’ll get to experience the vehicle that closest resembles my beloved KETTCAR.

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Lift-throttle Redemption: Mini Cooper Coupe JCW and Ford Fiesta ST

Cab drivers are known for their tenacious ability to navigate their city’s streets.  Similarly, FWD turbo hatch drivers can recall every cloverleaf on/off-ramp and traffic circle in their state.  Brad and I exchanged hatches for a beer and ice cream run, where we were able to open up the boosted 1.6 liters.  No driving photos this round – just stills of some angry turbo shafts.

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Cosworth to Canada

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Hopefully it’s not too apparent that every trip featured  so far on BlythBros. has been conceived and attempted by engineers. And, hopefully, the traits commonly associated with engineers – being logical, rational, analytical, and concrete – haven’t surfaced too often in the pages of the blog. Really, it doesn’t take an engineering degree to be able to drain the pleasure from activities, road trips included. Our goal for this trip was simply to drive to Canada.

Realizing that my big trip for the year would have to wait until later in the summer, I mentioned the idea of doing a quick loop of Quebec to Taylor. I was enjoying a stint of voluntary funemployment, so the most important element of my daily routine was walking the Dachshunds with my mom. After days of discussion and planning, we decided that my mom would walk the Dachsunds by herself – 2 to the human, that is. I was good to go. As for Taylor? He codes tools for numerical analysis of various nuclear processes, or something like that. Sounds independent enough, as far as work goes, so I’m assuming that he set up a Bueller-style snoring figure in his grad school office to take Friday off. I didn’t ask. Either way, we were staring down the barrel of a hair-triggered 3-day weekend, and we were hungry for the Great White North.

Before I get any further, I owe the reader a quick background on the etymology of Canada. Back before the time of Mounties, Poutine, and even hockey, two great Canadian pioneers sought to name the vast tract of land that would later insulation to the United States as America’s hat. From a real hat, likely furry and extravagant, the pioneers blindly chose 3 letters. “C, eh? N, eh? D, eh?” Later Americanized, the land became known as “Canada”.

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Buying sight-unseen from New Mexico: 1991 BMW 318is

 

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Old cars: buy the best example that you can afford, right? Unless you’re actively seeking a project, that’s the convention. So, imagine a listing for the car you want, at the price you like, where the only needs listed are “a wash and wax”. I found that car last summer.

I’d been driving a 91 318is as a sort of winter and minor project car up until that point. I bought that thing for $1,500 and slowly worked through it to get it into shape. I swapped in a set of matching M3 seats, replaced the cracked dash, fixed the odometer, installed a headliner, and resealed all of the oil leaks – except for one. The rear main seal leaked oil onto the clutch periodically, and that caused some bothersome slipping. It may have been a worn clutch (I had a spare clutch and flywheel), but either way, I was going to have to pull the transmission, which takes a weekend of concerted effort. Factor in some heinous oil consumption through other avenues – valve stem seals, worn rings – and the car was starting to feel like a money sink. An Indiana and Chicago car for all of its life, rust and urban parking had taken their toll on the bodywork beyond the point where I was willing to hit the car with any sort of money hammer. I figured that it would be cheaper to just sell that car and find one with fewer and less severe needs.

A serious constraint on the purchasing timeline was my goal to take a 6,000 mile trip to Seattle and back with my girlfriend about a month later. I wanted a well-sorted 318is with A/C to take us across the country and back.  Even on my rougher 318is, I was seeing 32mpg highway on premium fuel – decent for a 1991 car with that much character.

Spotted in Philly

On a recent trip to Philly for Ande’s art show, I engaged full dork mode and carried my camera around my neck.  I caught a trio of blue hatchbacks, a Defender 90, a 300 TE, a 524td, and a 164B.

The best part was waiting in the parking lot to spot the 164 driver.  I wouldn’t normally do that in Indiana, but I figured that someone in Philly would be acclimated to, you know, meeting new people.  The occupants of the Alfa turned out to be a small gray-hair in a suit, joined by a similarly-clad but 110% scale partner.

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Porsche 911 Turbo: Owning an 80s Icon Part 1

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Guest post from Shannon at The Crashing Door

Day One (28 miles)

So the first 24hrs of 911 Turbo ownership….let’s first assess the current status. It’s 8:30pm, I am still at work, I am covered in oil, I smell like a I just crawled out of a catalytic converter and I’m soaked. Well, how did we get here (thank you David Byrne)?

So when I test drove the car in question (a 1986 911 Turbo aka 930) the owner mentioned that the oil level gauge was inconsistent and often wrong. I think OK, no problem, always manually check oil and get gauge fixed at the first service. Yesterday I note that the gauge reads at about a third. I get in the car this morning and spot a dollar coin size puddle of oil underneath the sump tank, I am slightly annoyed but I think to myself, “Self, you own a 911 now, this is part of the charm”. During the drive to work the gauge is reading lower than yesterday.  I am not alarmed but concerned. I decide to turn down any requests for rides and resolve to check the dipstick before I leave.

At 6pm I go down to the dark basement of the parking garage for the 5th time today to stare at the car. I say, “hey self, let’s check that ol’ dipstick before the ride home”. Consult the manual just to be sure and discover that you should check the oil with the engine running. Never heard of that before but hey, it’s part of the charm. Fire up the car, let it warm for a minute or two and consult again where the manual says the level should be. Remove oil cap, withdraw dipstick and oh ****. Oil is just barely on the tip. Put dipstick back in quickly and….!!!! The dipstick dodges its little guide and into the bowls of the oil tank it goes. AAAHHHH!

Badge Engineering: Saab 9-7X travels the Natchez Trace

 

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Winter 2013-2014 has been the 100 proof sort of winter that can impair one’s judgement; the sort of winter that requires so many layers of pants to perform a timing belt replacement on your 24V Alfa Romeo V6 outdoors, that you start to question your homo erectus ancestors’ choices in mates – you couldn’t find someone with hairier legs?

In fact, this winter has been so bitter that I agreed to fly to Texas to help my friend Andrew drive his recently purchased Saab 9-7x back to Indiana. Yes, I agreed to a 1,000 mile drudge in an SUV designed to stuff GM’s koffers while providing Midwesterners the ability to travel excessive distances by themselves to pick up some Chik-Fil-A, load up their cargo hatches with Duck Dynasty apparel at Wal-Mart, and make it home in time to inhale hours of cable television. Or with the addition of the Saab badge, a Swedish shuttle designed to traverse snowy roads to fish markets, load up on furniture at IKEA, and make it home in time to watch 12 hours of a log burning on television.

Hyperbole aside, I had a few substantial reasons to look forward to the trip. First, the obvious weather relief, and the chance to visit Andrew’s family in Houston. Second, we planned on driving up the Natchez Trace Parkway, a scenic path connecting Natchez, MS to Nashville, TN. And finally, because I have a soft spot for the GMT360 platform. Our friend Malhon has a Trailblazer, with which I’ve gradually bonded each time I’ve summoned it to tow one of my disabled cars – the GTI when the alternator failed on I-70, the Milano when it threw a rod 300 miles from home, and the 164LS when it spun a rod bearing. Of course, it’s an irrational bond, as really most vehicles made of metal could tow my cars. Even a Saturn could.  Suffice to say, I’ve found the platform (and Malhon) to be dependable when my cars are not.

Winter on I-90

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This post and photos come from fellow Alfisti, Fred Russell.

The drive from the biggest city in Montana, Billings, to the small town of Sheridan Wyoming is about 120 miles. In the summer, traffic along I-90 usually flows at a little over 80 MPH. On the one sunny day between two good snow storms, was my choice to drive the route. The traffic was light and I assumed they’d be a little slower than the summer speeds. Most were… except for one knucklehead from the Seattle area doing 80 MPH. This highway heads through the Big Horn Valley crossing over the Little Bighorn River numerous times as it goes. I doubt very many members of the 7th Cavelry sent many postcards home when they passed through here in the summer of 1876.

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Those of us living in a coastal city may forget how critical the railroads are to industry. With the huge ships quietly coming and going at the port, usually far removed from our daily lives. That isn’t an option inland. The railroads are the heavy workers in places like the coal fields of Wyoming. (I watched 4 long coal trains go past in 4 hours this day.) With the Bighorn Moutains creating both a backdrop and a wind break, a train carries new American cars to points westward. Inside may be any number of cars built on these shores from BMW, Dodge, Jeep, Ford, Honda, Mercedes Benz, and more. I imagined the railcars were actually filled with Chevy trucks and that somehow they could sense they were passing an elderly cousin resting in the snow on that sunny day in Wyoming. That 1958 Cameo sat proudly with all of its trim, glass, and pieces showing just about the right amount of age, but not any abuse.

Ferrari 456

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Ah, the transaxle, master of delayed gratification.  The engine has no problem warming up – this particular car even had a second set of owner-installed radiator fans to deal with its thermal output – it’s the transaxle that takes time.  I planned on eventually shifting out of first gear, so with Mark, the owner, sitting passenger, we took a tepid parade lap through a typical Houston neighborhood of ranch houses.

Mark instructed me to take advantage of the stretch of beltway ahead of us.

“It’s your license.”

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DIYAutoFTW founder Steve on his e28 BMW M5

This repost comes from Steve, the founder of DIYautoFTW  – more on that in the footer.

Sold my GTI and weighed my options. Picked the irresponsible one.

Although it served me faithfully for four years it was time for me to part ways with my 07 GTI. It was extremely versatile, I moved four times and it readily hauled surprising amounts of my stuff, covering hundreds of trips between Detroit, Flint, Milwaukee, and other faraway places in all types of weather with nary a stumble. It could also be very fun, although I hooned around a bit it always handled predictably and I never hit its limits. The only surprises came from the speeds I could go around corners with out drama. Yet after 70,000 miles it had grown boring and I had to change things up.

I was looking at a broad range of cars. I needed something fun and didn’t want a car payment. I don’t have a problem with getting my hands dirty once in a while to keep things running as well (happens when you own a 43 year old British car). I was looking at anything from swapped 2.5 RSs to E36 M3s. The sensible part of me wanted to forget all the potential problems of a used car and get a pre-owned WRX or G8 and be done with it. A warranty, less maintenance and hassle, no risk of being stranded on the side of the road. However after the passing of CosmicTDI and other life events I realized I wouldn’t be at this point in my life again. I’m engaged with no kids on the horizon for a little while but in 3 or 5 years my auto needs would change and would probably be less easy to rationalize. As an enthusiast I felt the need to get something I would really like while I could, even if it wasn‘t the most practical or “smart“ thing to get. Life is short and all that. So my search focused on cars I always wanted and knew would be a blast and interesting to own. I wasn’t thinking reliability be dammed but it wasn’t as high on my list anymore. I ended up finding the perfect car.

Audi S4 + Snow

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Phil is braver than most.  Those who have shopped for B6 or B7 Audi S4s know the wallet-slimming  propensity of the V8 models – reason enough to look elsewhere for transportation.  Seriously, timing chains on the rear of engines should be reserved for disposable cars, NVH benefits aside.  In spite of this, Phil remains confident in the condition of his S4.  I’m glad that capable DIY mechanics like Phil are around to enjoy these exceptional vehicles.

I nearly purchased an S4 Avant a few years ago.  Emotionally, I was fighting a losing battle, as the seller had equipped the car with an exhaust system that amplified the staccato bark of the 4.2L V8 to the acme of tasteful volume.  Driving the car, I struggled to coax air around the lump of endearment lodged in my throat.  My spine tingled, and perhaps the pollen irritated my eyes, because they struggled to contain their natural moisture.  I don’t really remember how it handled, or how the steering felt, or how the ride was.  I just remember the exotic burble, and the hyena cackle on overrun.

Thwarted by that S4’s Carfax, I wisely bought two Alfas.  Bullet: dodged.  Oh wait.

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