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 DR1665 | Oct-07-09 05:05 PM |
Donating 2GNT member
14692 posts,
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#41900, "RE: shitty week"
In response to Reply # 15
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Originally posted by turbo8uOriginally posted by Fallen4ng31
1. Don't fuck with another man's car. word
Corrected.
I'm right there with you, man.
1. Left for the rally Friday morning. Got 60 miles up the hill, heard a POP and smoke everywhere. Dipstick came out. (Stupid 4G63 thing.)
2. Went another five miles. Heard gear noises. Pulled over. Tcase roached.
3. Flatbed shows up an hour later, asks if I would mind if he snagged a quick flat tire at the next mile marker. Sure. Why not.
4. Flatbed arrives an hour later, loads up the Galant, goes ONE MILE, dies.
5. Flatbed starts again, goes ANOTHER MILE, dies. This time, another dude comes out to help yell at the engine and smack it with wrenches.
6. Flatbed starts again, crests a hill a quarter mile down the road, dies completely, rolls to a stop at a gas station parking lot. I get frosted animal crackers and a Mountain Dew while another dude pulls up to yell at the engine and smack it with hammers.
7. Other two dudes tell me they think they've got it and they're going to take a test drive around the block. Danny, the original tow truck driver, and I, stand in the parking lot - me with a smoke and he with a dip of Skoal - and watch as my car disappears around the corner on his truck. We laugh.
8. An hour goes by. The boss calls Danny from the shop. Says the truck is dead down the street and they're sending a fourth guy to pick me up and get me to the rally in time. They'll figure out a way to get my car to the hotel later that night (on a flatbed, of course).
9. I grab my shit out of the Galant, still on the now-completely-fucking-dead flatbed, and bail.
10. Get to the hotel, Moose is calling me, freaking out that they got two blocks out of the ceremonial start of the rally before THEIR Galant died. I send Michael Rodarte on to help them out.
11. Mike Foster picks me up in some random Dodge Ram to go to service. We have a leisurely drive up. Danny texts me that my car might have to wait until Saturday because they can't get the flatbed started.
12. Get to service. Meet up with Rodarte. Moose calls. Rally car is dead as fuck just outside of Jerome, on route to the start of the first stage. Rodarte and Foster jump in Moose's van and haul ass to collect them. Two miles down the road, rally car on a tow strap, the service van blows a tire. They don't have a spare.
13. I sit in service waiting for a 1G Talon rally car to pull in. One does. I wave to them OVER HERE! But they're another team and go to another service spot. Another 1G Talon pulls in. I wave to THEM. THEY go to another service spot. FINALLY, a third 1G Talon pulls in (first year I've seen more than one at this event), they park where I'm at, get out, and ask where the shitter is. (sigh)
14. I get this picture from Danny.
15. Rally car leaves. I drive the Dodge back to the hotel, where I meet up with Rodarte and Foster. We decide to go to dinner before we replace the alternator on the rally car. We think highly of ourselves as we rev the GTO at rubberneckers on the sidewalk. Then we all feel like choads when we realize we just walked through fresh puke outside the restaurant doors.
16. The three of us work on the rally car until almost 3AM. Foster breaks the oil dipstick TWICE. Rodarte cobbles together a massive wire shunt to keep the battery charging despite the 60A fusible link turning random bolts into light bulbs. Car is charging, fluids are filled. All is well.
17. Three hours after I pass out on the floor in the hotel room. Moose's cell phone alarm goes off. It's the Gummybear Song. He's in the shower, so now I have to figure out how to turn it off and his cell phone is in TURKISH.
18. We go down, check the rally car. All is well. We change out the front tires and check again. New alternator is dead. FUCK.
19. We decide to spectate. Have a good time. Forget sunscreen. Burned to a crisp with a nice patina of dirt everywhere. Foster almost gets his when a WRX lets off in a slide and misses him as it flies off course at 60mph.
20. AAA sends the same exact flatbed to get me home. New driver tells me the gas gauge stopped working months ago and Danny should have known better.
21. Moose calls an hour after I get home. His van blew another tire on the way down the hill.
22. I spend all day Monday swapping tcases between my Galants. I'm looking forward to Tuesday being a day of sitting on my ass building circuit boards at the shop.
23. Tuesday afternoon, boss tells me he wants to focus on getting the Galant on the lift running. So now I'm out back pressure washing a 4G63.
24. Friend calls me up that there's a 99% complete GVR4 at the local yard with nothing obviously wrong with it. No accident, tbelt still in place, mint interior, the works. Bummer.
25. Another friend calls me to tell me the yard wants $3000 for the whole car. When I tell him I just sold a RUNNING one for $3000, he asks me if it's 1082, which is back on Craigslist this week for $2500.
26. My cerebellum fuses.
27. I notice I'm now leaking transmission fluid out of the passenger side axle seal. I haven't even put my tools away yet from Monday night.
28. Tomorrow I'm pulling CVs out of the Galant on the lift at the shop, removing the cracked boots, and re-doing the axles. Then I'm checking AC clutch function with a spare battery. Meanwhile, my black Galant still sits in the driveway, without a sunroof in it (of course it rained this morning), and I need to remove the driveshaft before I can back it out and pull it into the garage again.
So. Fucking. Tired. Of. Cars. Right. Now.
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