Alfa Romeo 164 winter car

Alfa Romeo 164Maintaining a mental inventory of the local Alfa classifieds bears a certain risk.  That risk came to light last winter, when a last-minute cancellation left me in Pennsylvania without a ride or flight back to Michigan.  A simple problem, unless left to my internal problem-solving model.  All models are wrong; some are useful.  And, when I’m left in charge of calibrating the models, they point invariably to Alfa Romeo as the answer.  Cognitive bias, to put it lightly.  I was going to find a cheap Alfa to get me home.

Now, I have a history of rationalizing Alfa purchases.  As my first Milano Verde sat engineless in my apartment garage, I convinced myself to bring home an Alfa 164LS daily driver.  That 164 made it two weeks.  A year later, that same Milano Verde burned down my garage, 3 other emerging European classics, and the majority of my backyard; I was back in a Verde within 45 days.  Then there was the ran when parked Alfetta GTV shipped to my garage from California.  And then the ran when parked GTV-6 we towed home from Indiana.  Necessary, all of them.

DSC_1527 _DSC7238 _DSC7241DSC_0648

Hindsight: a year after the garage fire

_DSC5411My older brother outbid me on a 190E 2.3-16 three years ago. I’d sent him the link on the last day of bidding.  Shared my reservations about taking in another needy West German export.  At the time, my 91 318is and 84 GTI had no problem converting my free time into bruised hands.  I faltered; my brother won. 

Our dad owned a 2.3-16 for a brief half year 4 years prior to the bidding.  But for reasons unknown, our dad’s heart shrank the fall of my freshman year of college, and he sold both the 2.3-16 and his 73 BMW 3.0CS.323329_10150370300891799_1619460789_o

DSC_9611_zpsefe6da59

Milano Verde Transport to Colorado

DSC_1297

Yet again, I found my judgement clouded by the allure of an Alfa V6.  The proposal: move a buddy’s Milano from Detroit to Denver – twenty hours, if driven in a straight shot.

The outlook was optimistic for this particular car.  Milano Verdes, with their comfortable Recaro seats and long-legged 3.55 final drive, rival country music as companions across flyover states.  And, this was a particularly healthy example, coming from a collection of five V6 transaxle Alfas.  What’s the phrase?  “Wouldn’t hesitate to drive across the country”?

Leaving Detroit at 5PM via I-94 is a failure in planning, unless the plan is to shake down the mechanical systems of a nearly 30 year old Italian sedan.  Coolant temp?  Right on the mark, if the gauge is to be trusted.  Brakes?  If they aren’t sorted, you’ll find out quickly in rush hour.  Fluid leaks?  The rearview mirror is as useful for spotting leaks as it is for avoiding rear-end collisions.

wheel engine

Replacing my Milano with a Milano

_DSC1279

Just east of Portland, above the Columbia River, lies Corbett, Oregon, a swath of utterly tranquil American landscape.  There, the Historic Columbia River Highway permits glimpses of the river valley, where conifers and diffuse light from low clouds conspire in a vivid scene with the rock cliffs and the water below.  Stray from the RV-friendly scenic highway, and your gaze shifts from the horizon to the pitch-black switchbacks lined with red pine needles.  The road surfaces are too unforgiving to enjoy a stiffly sprung sports car, and with the light bicycle traffic, the ragged edge of tire adhesion is off limits.  Enter the Italian sports sedan.

A month of standing sentinel over “Alfa Romeo Milano Verde” on a Craigslist, a year with a rewards credit card, and a two hour garage blaze culminated in an impromptu flight to Oregon to retrieve my latest object of obsession. The mere sound of the approaching Busso V6 as the seller pulled up to pick my girlfriend and me up from our AirBnB in Portland affirmed my decision to buy; the seller’s small-talk, abridged life story affirmed my latest life decisions.  Oregon is one of very few places where you might meet a man who decided to append his automotive engineering degree with grad studies in environmental science because he didn’t respect what engineering represented in the 70s – one of the few places where you might meet a man who quit his job 4 years out of school because he “needed a vacation”.  Instant affirmation.

_DSC0689.NEF

_DSC1314_DSC1367

My Milano is Gone.

IMG_1823

All I had left to address was the 2nd gear synchro, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fix that last trace of Alfa idiosyncrasy.  Nearly two years into the most involving, frustrating and absorbing auto ownership experience in my 25 years, I lost my Alfa, my garage, and with them, my GTI and two of my brother’s cars.

I will be perfectly clear.  Alfas are reliable; neglected cars are not.

I had purchased a neglected 1989 Alfa Romeo Milano Verde two summers prior to bridge the gap between the BMW e30 I owned at the time, and the Ferrari 308 that I knew I shouldn’t buy.  The practical exotic.  4 doors and a Busso V6 with an exhaust note that could embarrass any fuel-injected 80s Ferrari V8.  A useable trunk and a rear-mounted transaxle with inboard mounted brake rotors.  Room for human beings and a torsion bar front, DeDion rear suspension.  And, under 3k RPM, you’d be hard pressed to turn any heads in traffic.
DSC_4135 DSC_4179

DSC_7594DSC_7442DSC_4142

Franco-Italian Tennessee

DSC_0108With almost two years of Alfa ownership on the books, I’m wise enough to recommend picking up a spare engine with any Alfa acquisition.  That, and change the timing belt every three years, whether it needs it or not.  It probably needs it.

So, when Taylor brought his 164Q home, we reduced a perfectly good 24V V6 to its most vulnerable state: timing belt lying on the floor, water pump in a bucket, and cam gears free to rotate as they please.  After torquing each fastener to spec, indexing the cams with cam dies, and tensioning the timing and serpentine belts with the Alfa Romeo weighted arm tool, we counted exactly zero spare parts, but somehow ended up with an angle grinder, a heli-coil set, and a lot less weekend than we started out with.

Now, we trust our work, but given the fact that retrieving a spare 12V engine usually requires crossing state lines, you can count on crossing time zones to find the nearest 24V Alfa engine for sale.  Having a spare provides the peace of mind for timing belt changes in your parents’ garage on company holidays – and a spare engine is cheaper than just the labor on a timing belt job at an independent Alfa shop.

Last summer, we found a 24V Alfa V6 for sale in Lenoir City, TN, just southwest of Taylor in Knoxville.  Taylor went down to check out the engine, where he met Marty.
DSC_0229DSC_0244DSC_0114DSC_0238

Porsche 944 V8 in Motor City

 

DSC_9551Dan grew up in a dry county in Kentucky, home of Bourbon whiskey. Quite a dissonant combination at first thought – a dry county and Bourbon – but nearly 1/3 of Kentucky counties carry forth the torch of prohibition. And, not straying far from his roots, when Dan got around to buying his first sports car during his junior year of engineering school, he chose the dead sober Porsche 944.

Now, I drive a 90 hp VW Rabbit GTI, so believe me when I say that I don’t mind slow cars, but a stock 944 lacks the verve of a slow hot hatch. The ample ratio of grip to power – likely a boon to track performance – smothers the appeal in day-to-day driving. But, boxed fenders aren’t a common sight on modern roadways. And those fenders, along with proper proportions, atone for the antiseptic driving experience, at least in the sub $5k used German sports coupe category.

DSC_9263DSC_9365DSC_9368 DSC_9379

Picking up the 164Q in New York City

DSC_7389

I was tired of dealing with sub-zero temperatures in State College. My roommates and I worried that we’d forgotten what heat felt like after three straight months of biking to work in the snow. The 16V 190E was parked indefinitely and it was too cold to do anything besides parse through Fortran in a warm office. Graham saw the opportunity and took advantage of my frostbitten brain—he sent me a link to a red Alfa 164Q with the subject ‘buy this car’.

Up until that day I’d been entertained by Graham’s stories about Alfa failures of every degree. He insisted they’re still ‘great cars’ but they just need a little more care, attention, and money than most others. I knew he had anywhere from one to four of these Alfas under his control and had already done some major engine rebuilding. This somehow didn’t deter me in my search for a new unique vehicle. He also lauded their finer points, of course. I’d gotten tired of him talking about the ‘peanut butter leather’ interior of his 164 and how much fun it was to drive. I decided to give the Alfa some consideration because I figured I probably needed a third car if I was going to make it through grad school. Graham had even let me wear his Alfa hat a couple of times, and I felt I needed to truly earn a hat of my own.

 DSC_7387
DSC_0818

Shuffle in the Lineup: 1991 Audi Turbo Quattro 20V Avant

Audi 200 Turbo Quattro 20V Taylor’s new project car is waiting for him in Michigan.  They say that the bottom ends on these Audi 5-cylinders are stout, but we’ll probably rebuild and fortify it before addressing the turbo.  I’m looking forward to some AWD launch squats.

Since Taylor has moved on to the Audi, I’ll be taking care of his old 164Q for now.  We got a fresh timing belt, water pump, and timing belt pulleys on it this spring, so it’s down to taking care of some cosmetic items for the fall.

DSC_7813 DSC_7811 DSC_7815 DSC_7821

Embracing American Muscle, Mullet Edition: 68 El Camino SS 396 L78

DSC_7713

My introduction to the mythical El Camino was typical for the species.  I had driven my 84 GTI – complete with its perpetual, post-precipitation door chime – 100 miles to State College, PA with three goals:

  1. Visit my brother
  2. Stop the door chime
  3. Drive an El Camino

The owner of the El Camino, Mark, had recently driven his Malibu wagon with a 4-speed, side pipes, and racing seats, to Alabama, where he traded cars with his mom.  With his move from grad school to a full time job in D.C. approaching, Mark resorted to the flexibility of his mom’s offensively 80s El Camino to relocate his household belongings, and his Ducati.

259232_10100669892352155_1911479924_o

Getting by without owning a truck – a BlythBros. guide

For many DIYers, the pickup truck provides essential utility.  Find an RX-7 with a blown wankel on Craigslist?  You can either tow it home behind a truck, or if you’re in a salt state, simply punch your shoes through the floorboards and Flintstone it home.  Building a workbench for indiscriminate hammering of car parts in your garage?  Throw the lumber into the truck bed and haul it home.

But, for those who don’t frequently depend on that level of utility for their livelihood or hobby, is buying a dedicated work truck the best solution?  I’ll explain my hobby situation, and why I think I managed better without buying, say, a $5,000 work truck.

In the past year, I’ve been able to complete the following without buying a truck or borrowing one from a friend:

  • Drive 300 miles to buy a 12V Alfa V6 for my Milano
  • Tow my Alfa Milano 300 miles when I moved
  • Drive 75 miles to pick up a 12V Alfa V6 to rebuild for a friend
  • Tow a 68 El Camino SS 250 miles home after it died in Chicago
  • Drive 500 miles to bring home the entire drivetrain and subframe from an Alfa 164Q
  • Purchase lumber for two sets of 8’x8′ shelves, and a 16 wheel tire rack
  • Drive a refrigerator home
  • Pull my thrashed Alfa Milano off of the Tail of the Dragon

Alfa Milano Verde Shakedown Trip to the Dragon

DSC_7366

Last September, my 89 Alfa Milano substantiated a vile Italian automobile stereotype as I traveled to family back east for Labor Day weekend. Of course, there were warning signs; the failed clutch hydraulics hose the day I brought the car home, and the miserably inadequate cooling system that demanded maximum heater settings to control the coolant temp. I attempted to deceive myself with defensive internal retorts to my friends’ negative Alfa sentiments. “Guys, chill. It’s just an Italian e30 – Bosch fuel system. If anything, the German components will be first to go.” The denial even continued into the first manifestation of rod knock. “Hmm, the engine is starting to sound like a tractor. A Lamborghini tractor, heh heh.”

In actuality, it sounded like an Alfa-with-thrown-rod tractor. Less than a month into Alfa ownership, and I was about to atone for the sinful Alfa soundtrack – something like ripping canvas – with the task of replacing the 6-pot paperweight sitting between the torsion bars of my Milano.

DSC_7370

DSC_7413