Frankenstein, History Pt. 1
08/08/10 11:22 PM |
Permalink
My BMW was built in the fatherland in 1986, and shipped
to the United States to be sold to an affluent auto
enthusiast for around $34,000. About 19 years
later it had seen 272,000 miles and an engine swap. It
had also seen a lot of rough driving and at least one
pretty bad wreck. When I got it from my
daughters starter husband (after they moved to Florida)
it was dead. I bought a new battery and got the
gas tank open (I didn't know about the internal locking
system then) and had a harrowing ride home in the dark.
From day one, the right front shock was a rattling,
noisy, scary mess, but the car still handled pretty
well (better than most cars I'd driven to that point)
and I endured. After a few weeks I got used to
the foibles and appearance, and started to enjoy the
pluses of the car. Then the day came when I was driving
home and the shift selector rod snapped and I was out
of commission for the immediate future. That
future went on for around two years, with another BMW
in the mean-time but that's another story (and one that
is well detailed in previous "Projectile " posts here
at chuckpace.com).
When I finally found the correct shifting mechanism (after the death of the 2nd Bimmer the Mädchen) it was decided that we (I) would rebuild the Blue beast that I got in 2005, to that end I began the resurrection of the car. And because of it's appearance, and the fact that I would be getting other parts from multiple sources, I started calling it the Blue Frankenstein.
More time passed and the car was garaged. Body work had begun, parts and accessories slowly added, improvements begun. This was during the time that there were two vehicles in the driveway. Jenni drove Harold the truck and I drove the "Vert for most of that time, leaving the Blue Frankenstein to be worked on at my leisure and discretion, but brought out of the garage often enough to keep it nimble and alert.
The truck died, and the Frankenstein was back to
full time duty, the decision was made to finally
replace the shock absorber on the right corner with a
new, properly operating one. Since shocks are
always supposed to be changed in pairs, a pair of
Bilstein High-performance shocks was purchased along
with some trim elements and front and rear mud
flaps.
More failures and set-backs occurred in May and it was back to what you know instead of what you want, and I was still driving the Frankenstein with the broken shock on the right. Three months from the day that I discovered that the broken shock was fused into the strut, and that the strut could not be disassembled I began a week of vacation. I had a mission to get some results for the Frankenstein.
Sanding and primering for three days and the car .looked better than I've sever seen it, still there are some imperfections that only show up when you do that kind of work, so I'll bee taking care of those soon. But the best news, is in my next post...
Stay Tuned...
The Bimmer in 2005 above & Hood, fender filled and primered 2010 below.
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
When I finally found the correct shifting mechanism (after the death of the 2nd Bimmer the Mädchen) it was decided that we (I) would rebuild the Blue beast that I got in 2005, to that end I began the resurrection of the car. And because of it's appearance, and the fact that I would be getting other parts from multiple sources, I started calling it the Blue Frankenstein.
More time passed and the car was garaged. Body work had begun, parts and accessories slowly added, improvements begun. This was during the time that there were two vehicles in the driveway. Jenni drove Harold the truck and I drove the "Vert for most of that time, leaving the Blue Frankenstein to be worked on at my leisure and discretion, but brought out of the garage often enough to keep it nimble and alert.
More failures and set-backs occurred in May and it was back to what you know instead of what you want, and I was still driving the Frankenstein with the broken shock on the right. Three months from the day that I discovered that the broken shock was fused into the strut, and that the strut could not be disassembled I began a week of vacation. I had a mission to get some results for the Frankenstein.
Sanding and primering for three days and the car .looked better than I've sever seen it, still there are some imperfections that only show up when you do that kind of work, so I'll bee taking care of those soon. But the best news, is in my next post...
Stay Tuned...
The Bimmer in 2005 above & Hood, fender filled and primered 2010 below.
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
Prometheus Driven
08/07/10 01:24 AM |
Projectile
| Permalink
In my last post about the Bimmer, the 535i, the Blue
Frankenstein as it were (or was) way back in the first
week of May I mentioned my dilemma of restoring the
unrestored strut assembly to the BF so as to be able to
work, eat, live and transport self and soul to all
necessary situations and locations. I mentioned at the
time that it may not have been the wises of decisions,
but necessity is the mother of... Well to put it
another way necessity is often a Mother!
I can re-tell the entire blog if you like, or (if you really want to get the meat with the potatoes) you might jump back and save us both a little time. I've just re-read the damned thing and I agree whole heartedly, in fact I now have to recommend the post prior to that one, "Mayday Setback" where I told of my crushed spirit and the untimely loss of the use vehik. I spoke of the cost of the cheapest new replacement strut, and the woes of being woed up and the out-of-commission missile of pleasure and purpose. Woe was me, and me was unwillfuly woefully woed.
Since I had to be able to get to the to and back to the from, schedules aside and other needs still being needed, I put the broken things back in the place where I wanted new things. Since I found out that the problem of shake, rattle and hum was not just mine (or U2's) and that everything was Helter Skelter, I had to put my desire aside and forsake my pride (in the name of love), I had to drive the drive, as it was always since I had acquired it.
I had been slowly sanding and primering parts and pieces while there were three rides in the garage and drive, but with the loss of the truck, I had to roll the Blue out of the metaphoric mothballs and drive.
Ignorance is truly bliss, and I lost that bliss when I learned. I lost the delusion that it was just a bad shock absorber, I lost the innocence of thought that it would be alright until I got a new shocks (always replace front's and rears in pairs) I lost hope that throwing another $1000 or more at the problem would end all problems (at least I'm smarter than most politicians in that respect).
I was driving the car as I had always driven it, but now I knew the extent of the problem. I knew the devastating possibility of a physical failure and the repercussions of a calamity of that scope. Now every railroad track, pothole, bump and uneven pavement patch wasn't just an opportunity to cuss and fume, it was a mental premonition of collapse, collision or casualty.
Still I was the man behind the wheel. I was the director of this comedy, and I knew my limitations, and my strengths. I couldn't (still can't) afford alternative automotive access. I drove it like I loved it, I loved it with the usual limitations of any relationship. The give and take, acceptance and compassion, the sharing of the good and the coping with the bad.
I do love the car, I have always only had two complaints, the rattle and bounce of the right front, and the blemished and beaten (before my time exterior). I've been working on the outside, while oblivious to the real problems of the inside, the heart is strong, the drive is there, the comfort in each other's capabilities is real, but the knowledge of the true nature of the damage is worrisome.
But here is hope, there is a rainbow on the horizon and there is a future for the Frankenstein!
I was driving the car as I had always driven it,
but now I knew the extent of the problem. I knew the
devastating possibility of a physical failure and the
repercussions of a calamity of that scope. Now every
railroad track, pothole, bump and uneven pavement patch
wasn't just an opportunity to cuss and fume, it was a
mental premonition of collapse, collision or casualty.
Still I was the man behind the wheel. I was the director of this comedy, and I knew my limitations, and my strengths. I couldn't (still can't) afford alternative automotive access. I drove it like I loved it, I loved it with the usual limitations of any relationship. The give and take, acceptance and compassion, the sharing of the good and the coping with the bad.
I do love the car, I have always only had two complaints, the rattle and bounce of the right front, and the blemished and beaten (before my time exterior). I've been working on the outside, while oblivious to the real problems of the inside, the heart is strong, the drive is there, the comfort in each other's capabilities is real, but the knowledge of the true nature of the damage is worrisome.
The before and after shots: 2005 on top, 2010 yesterday
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
I can re-tell the entire blog if you like, or (if you really want to get the meat with the potatoes) you might jump back and save us both a little time. I've just re-read the damned thing and I agree whole heartedly, in fact I now have to recommend the post prior to that one, "Mayday Setback" where I told of my crushed spirit and the untimely loss of the use vehik. I spoke of the cost of the cheapest new replacement strut, and the woes of being woed up and the out-of-commission missile of pleasure and purpose. Woe was me, and me was unwillfuly woefully woed.
Since I had to be able to get to the to and back to the from, schedules aside and other needs still being needed, I put the broken things back in the place where I wanted new things. Since I found out that the problem of shake, rattle and hum was not just mine (or U2's) and that everything was Helter Skelter, I had to put my desire aside and forsake my pride (in the name of love), I had to drive the drive, as it was always since I had acquired it.
I had been slowly sanding and primering parts and pieces while there were three rides in the garage and drive, but with the loss of the truck, I had to roll the Blue out of the metaphoric mothballs and drive.
Ignorance is truly bliss, and I lost that bliss when I learned. I lost the delusion that it was just a bad shock absorber, I lost the innocence of thought that it would be alright until I got a new shocks (always replace front's and rears in pairs) I lost hope that throwing another $1000 or more at the problem would end all problems (at least I'm smarter than most politicians in that respect).
I was driving the car as I had always driven it, but now I knew the extent of the problem. I knew the devastating possibility of a physical failure and the repercussions of a calamity of that scope. Now every railroad track, pothole, bump and uneven pavement patch wasn't just an opportunity to cuss and fume, it was a mental premonition of collapse, collision or casualty.
Still I was the man behind the wheel. I was the director of this comedy, and I knew my limitations, and my strengths. I couldn't (still can't) afford alternative automotive access. I drove it like I loved it, I loved it with the usual limitations of any relationship. The give and take, acceptance and compassion, the sharing of the good and the coping with the bad.
I do love the car, I have always only had two complaints, the rattle and bounce of the right front, and the blemished and beaten (before my time exterior). I've been working on the outside, while oblivious to the real problems of the inside, the heart is strong, the drive is there, the comfort in each other's capabilities is real, but the knowledge of the true nature of the damage is worrisome.
But here is hope, there is a rainbow on the horizon and there is a future for the Frankenstein!
Still I was the man behind the wheel. I was the director of this comedy, and I knew my limitations, and my strengths. I couldn't (still can't) afford alternative automotive access. I drove it like I loved it, I loved it with the usual limitations of any relationship. The give and take, acceptance and compassion, the sharing of the good and the coping with the bad.
I do love the car, I have always only had two complaints, the rattle and bounce of the right front, and the blemished and beaten (before my time exterior). I've been working on the outside, while oblivious to the real problems of the inside, the heart is strong, the drive is there, the comfort in each other's capabilities is real, but the knowledge of the true nature of the damage is worrisome.
The before and after shots: 2005 on top, 2010 yesterday
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
Disconnected
I found this unpublished blog I wrote some
4 or 5 weeks ago. Proof-read and completed it and now I
finally share it with the world! I leave the date as it
was when I started this therapy of
blogging!
I have not been spending a lot of money on myself lately, so when I got a big bonus check on June 16th I decided it was time for some me time. I've been carrying an original iPhone for a few years (the last two years- not my original original but a replacement original after misplacing the original original).
On a "fun filled weekend one day escape" with the missus, to Geneva Indiana and yet another covered bridge expedition, the iPhone "the first" found itself a way out of the handy belt carrier I got to keep from loosing it. To my surprise I had no clue where it might have ended up, and our day trip was at an end. I wanted to stay in a motel near the "drop site" but practical Jenni thought the dog would like to see us and have some business to do for us instead of to us.
The next day we retraced our steps in the sweltering daylight but to no avail. Then came the nightmare from Blackberry hell. I was told by a very helpful ATT phone sales rep I could use a Blackberry until the new 3G models hit then I could retrieve my sanity and exchange the Crackberry for the iPhone upgrade, since I was eligible for an upgrade. Yet another wondrous surprise awaited in the form of a denial that such a thing could be done. I had used my "upgrade" privileges up by buying the temporary Blackberry, and the rep got a nice fat commission for moving a less popular phone to another shill who believed that the representative should and would be honest. I talked to the VP of ATT before it was all done and he told me point-blank that he didn't care if I was unhappy or not, or that an employee in his company had intentionally lied and deceived me. He said that there was nothing that they cared to do for me. He also told me that the employees are told to move the Windows based Blackberry phones and accessories since there is a much greater profit margin on them than on the wildly successful and popular iPhones that Apple markets.
After four an a half months in the Blackberry Asylum I was indeed ready to be committed, that's when a glorious and wondrous thing occurred. By then my hatred of the butt dialing , pocket dialing, dashboard dialing monstrosity was legend in the circles I pass through, and as I came back from lunch I was created by Phil Gibson and one of his friends who just so happened to have an original iPhone he wanted (or more accurately his wife wanted) to get rid of. He had his eye on some item in the store that was around $200. I asked if I could buy that item and trade him for the cherished Holiest Holy Grail of Cellular communication devices and he agreed. The next day December 13th 2008, he returned with the sacred item and I made the deal. I had checked the employee price on the item he wanted (I still cannot remember what it was it was so inconsequential by comparison to my renewed happiness) and only got to take about $20 off before taxes and ended with a net gain of $6.40, but I did end up with the real prize.
That evening I walked back into my local ATT store. Inside, I looked for the friggin' bastard who sold me the Blackberry and a bill of goods, but he was off or somebody had taken him to secluded spot and beaten him so severely that he'd never be able to use a phone again let alone sell one to the unsuspecting (at least that was what I imagined). After a pleasant 15 minute wait for my turn at the podium with the power giver 20 something phone merchant I was set back on the righteous path. At home I had to wait to be reconnected after plugging the cherished machine into my Mac computer, within two hours I had my address book back (the BlackBerry never did properly sync with the superior Mac system) and within 2 1/2 hours after my reprieve from insanity, I had my preferences set, my alarms loaded and my life back.
What did I do with the Blackberry? I put it in a case and left it on my bookcase shelves to moulder, I refuse to inflict that curse of a communicator with anybody else. My breath dialing, butt dialing bump dialing breeze dialing days are over I got my life back and hopefully spared someone else the BB agony of ownership by not reintroducing that horror back into the collective Microsoft hive!
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
I have not been spending a lot of money on myself lately, so when I got a big bonus check on June 16th I decided it was time for some me time. I've been carrying an original iPhone for a few years (the last two years- not my original original but a replacement original after misplacing the original original).
On a "fun filled weekend one day escape" with the missus, to Geneva Indiana and yet another covered bridge expedition, the iPhone "the first" found itself a way out of the handy belt carrier I got to keep from loosing it. To my surprise I had no clue where it might have ended up, and our day trip was at an end. I wanted to stay in a motel near the "drop site" but practical Jenni thought the dog would like to see us and have some business to do for us instead of to us.
The next day we retraced our steps in the sweltering daylight but to no avail. Then came the nightmare from Blackberry hell. I was told by a very helpful ATT phone sales rep I could use a Blackberry until the new 3G models hit then I could retrieve my sanity and exchange the Crackberry for the iPhone upgrade, since I was eligible for an upgrade. Yet another wondrous surprise awaited in the form of a denial that such a thing could be done. I had used my "upgrade" privileges up by buying the temporary Blackberry, and the rep got a nice fat commission for moving a less popular phone to another shill who believed that the representative should and would be honest. I talked to the VP of ATT before it was all done and he told me point-blank that he didn't care if I was unhappy or not, or that an employee in his company had intentionally lied and deceived me. He said that there was nothing that they cared to do for me. He also told me that the employees are told to move the Windows based Blackberry phones and accessories since there is a much greater profit margin on them than on the wildly successful and popular iPhones that Apple markets.
After four an a half months in the Blackberry Asylum I was indeed ready to be committed, that's when a glorious and wondrous thing occurred. By then my hatred of the butt dialing , pocket dialing, dashboard dialing monstrosity was legend in the circles I pass through, and as I came back from lunch I was created by Phil Gibson and one of his friends who just so happened to have an original iPhone he wanted (or more accurately his wife wanted) to get rid of. He had his eye on some item in the store that was around $200. I asked if I could buy that item and trade him for the cherished Holiest Holy Grail of Cellular communication devices and he agreed. The next day December 13th 2008, he returned with the sacred item and I made the deal. I had checked the employee price on the item he wanted (I still cannot remember what it was it was so inconsequential by comparison to my renewed happiness) and only got to take about $20 off before taxes and ended with a net gain of $6.40, but I did end up with the real prize.
That evening I walked back into my local ATT store. Inside, I looked for the friggin' bastard who sold me the Blackberry and a bill of goods, but he was off or somebody had taken him to secluded spot and beaten him so severely that he'd never be able to use a phone again let alone sell one to the unsuspecting (at least that was what I imagined). After a pleasant 15 minute wait for my turn at the podium with the power giver 20 something phone merchant I was set back on the righteous path. At home I had to wait to be reconnected after plugging the cherished machine into my Mac computer, within two hours I had my address book back (the BlackBerry never did properly sync with the superior Mac system) and within 2 1/2 hours after my reprieve from insanity, I had my preferences set, my alarms loaded and my life back.
What did I do with the Blackberry? I put it in a case and left it on my bookcase shelves to moulder, I refuse to inflict that curse of a communicator with anybody else. My breath dialing, butt dialing bump dialing breeze dialing days are over I got my life back and hopefully spared someone else the BB agony of ownership by not reintroducing that horror back into the collective Microsoft hive!
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
Yard Redeux Memorial Weekend
Memorial weekend. Three days off in a row. A chance to get to some of the side work that has been begging for my attention. A chance to exercise my body to the point of severe exhaustion and muscle strain. in other words Yardening time again. Friday night after work Jenni and I went to dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse with our friend Melissa Shoffner, who asked if I was doing any yard projects since it seems that I normally do on Memorial Weekend. I hadn't realized I was that predictable, but she called it. The weather agreed and the time was right.
A while back Jenni had mentioned that the plantings and ring around the tree in the front yard was getting a bit ragged looking. I had been thinking about it too for a few month, but was on a long un-inspirational streak and it was not a priority. Other yard projects took priority, like the back and side yards where we spend way more time, so they had been getting the lion's share of my attention since early April.
Here are the results of the front yard "tree-juvination", I wish I had taken a before photo, but in a way I'm glad I didn't, it was really out of hand (and actually had a few volunteer trees growing in the ring). What you miss by not having a pre-tree-tment shot is that I also enlarged the ring to accommodate more pretty things.
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
Setback Pseudo-Solution
05/07/10 09:57 PM |
Projectile
| Permalink
A decision had to be made, even if it was potentially
the wrong one. The Blue Frankenstein was out of
commission for the foreseeable financial future. We
were down to one vehicle, and I was car-pooling with
Jenni until there was a change in the free-wheeling
weather. Now mind you I don't mind car-pooling with the
wife, in fact when schedules allow I thing it a prudent
and fiscally responsible choice, but our schedules are
usually not biorythmically tuned. Besides I live to
drive, it is something that pleases me, and for a
driver to be reduced to a rider is a demotion of the
soul and spirit as well as a shock to the system.
Still, sometimes the system needs shocks. More accurately the Frankenstein needed shocks and strut-assembly repair.
I was driven into a funk of despair. I was driving myself crazy and that was the only driving I was doing. I thought of finances. I thought of the possible value of the Bimmer in its condition and the loss of selling it. I thought of the fact that there was no money for a replacement either. Unbelievably I was losing more sleep, which is hard for a guy who averages about 3 1/2 to 4 hours of sleep to do. Then one night as I turned more than I tossed I thought about the Bimmer itself, I had been driving it with the funky shock bounce and noise since the day I acquired it, it never got worse, and it never got better. I had been driving, and turning and bouncing and hitting pot-holes and railroad tracks for several years and cursing the fact that I didn't have the resources to fix it, or the time to be without the car. The deal was that when I decided to replace the shock and ordered the parts I was fixing a long stand problem. A problem that I had put thirty or forty thousand miles on, a problem I already knew. I decided to re-assemble the spring and broken shock which had already failed, and put them back into service.
I decided I would soon give my resource a call, a parts guy whom I've already used and who has barns full of old BMW parts and bits. In the meantime I decided it was better to dance with the demon that you know than to walk alone into the unknown dispirited.
On Thursday May 6th, after three hours of struggle, jacking and pivoting and cursing, I got the strut back in and the alignment confirmed and put the Frankenstein back on his own four feet. Twenty minutes later, after a hard grease removal scrubbing I was ready to drive into the mid-day sun.
I was ready to see if the car would collapse or carry me. I had my AAA card and phone in case I needed a tow to Black Forrest Motors some four and a half miles away. I took the shake-down cruise, with the same shake-ups I remembered from the right front when a bump was encountered, the same shimmy when breaking from higher speeds, the same grimacing I had always done when encountering a pot-hole. I was back. The Frankenstein was still a Frankenstein, a prometheus reborn, a patchwork of parts, but we could still get away from the villagers and their pitchforks and torches.
I drove the Frankenstein past the Black Forrest, I was a driver again and I slept the sleep of the redeemed.
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
Still, sometimes the system needs shocks. More accurately the Frankenstein needed shocks and strut-assembly repair.
I was driven into a funk of despair. I was driving myself crazy and that was the only driving I was doing. I thought of finances. I thought of the possible value of the Bimmer in its condition and the loss of selling it. I thought of the fact that there was no money for a replacement either. Unbelievably I was losing more sleep, which is hard for a guy who averages about 3 1/2 to 4 hours of sleep to do. Then one night as I turned more than I tossed I thought about the Bimmer itself, I had been driving it with the funky shock bounce and noise since the day I acquired it, it never got worse, and it never got better. I had been driving, and turning and bouncing and hitting pot-holes and railroad tracks for several years and cursing the fact that I didn't have the resources to fix it, or the time to be without the car. The deal was that when I decided to replace the shock and ordered the parts I was fixing a long stand problem. A problem that I had put thirty or forty thousand miles on, a problem I already knew. I decided to re-assemble the spring and broken shock which had already failed, and put them back into service.
I decided I would soon give my resource a call, a parts guy whom I've already used and who has barns full of old BMW parts and bits. In the meantime I decided it was better to dance with the demon that you know than to walk alone into the unknown dispirited.
On Thursday May 6th, after three hours of struggle, jacking and pivoting and cursing, I got the strut back in and the alignment confirmed and put the Frankenstein back on his own four feet. Twenty minutes later, after a hard grease removal scrubbing I was ready to drive into the mid-day sun.
I was ready to see if the car would collapse or carry me. I had my AAA card and phone in case I needed a tow to Black Forrest Motors some four and a half miles away. I took the shake-down cruise, with the same shake-ups I remembered from the right front when a bump was encountered, the same shimmy when breaking from higher speeds, the same grimacing I had always done when encountering a pot-hole. I was back. The Frankenstein was still a Frankenstein, a prometheus reborn, a patchwork of parts, but we could still get away from the villagers and their pitchforks and torches.
I drove the Frankenstein past the Black Forrest, I was a driver again and I slept the sleep of the redeemed.
Chuck Pace ©2010
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Mayday Setback
05/01/10 07:04 PM |
Projectile
| Permalink
With the recent death of the truck and finally getting rid of the Green Hornet's-nest (the inopperable Cirrus) we were down to two vehicles at the World Headquarters. Having taken money from my retirement to work on the 'vert and the truck (before it was pronounced dead), I took some of that money to continue restoring and repairing the Blue Frankenstein. One of the longest and possibly most dangerous problems with the Bimmer was with the right drivers side suspension, which needed a new shock absorber, and upper and lower control arm bushings. The last week of April I ordered shocks for the Bimmer as well as some cosmetic fixes for the exterior. In addition to the suspension components I purchased new bumper rubber trim elements, front and rear mud-flaps, and replacement "535" and "i" badges for the trunk. I installed the rear mud-flaps after work one night, but reserved Saturday for the suspension rebuild.
Today at around 11:30, with the indespensible Bentley Guide at my side I removed the strut, shock, wheel and brake assembly, not without a few real problems. Two and a half hours later, I was faced with a catastrophic failure. The old shock inside the strut assembly was broken in two, and the lower half was rusted and fused into the strut. Further exacerbating the problem, the original shock piston rod was also fused to the strut tower cap.
Multiple attempts to free either half of the shock having failed, a quick search of the Internet revealed that the cheapest solution available for a new strut assembly is $501.99. Bavarian Autosports in New Hampshire has those and then next nearest new assembly I found anywhere on the web is just a few dollars shy of 600.
In a few weeks I may have $502. Dollars, but until then the Bimmer will stay in it's current, partially deconstructed state awaiting essential and expensive components.
I didn't even feel like doing this side after the calamity of the passengers side discovery.
Chuck Pace ©2010
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UnFlappable
04/29/10 09:08 PM |
Projectile
| Permalink
Today I set up an account with O'Reilly Auto Parts and ordered a spring compressor which I picked up after work. These shock's are going to take a bit of work. Compressing coil springs is very dangerous, and I will have to be on top of my game I fear. Rich has warned me a few times that I may be taking my life in my own hands compressing the springs and doing my own install. We will have to see.
The new bumper rubber on the drivers side is way better looking, time to get out the ArmorAll for the passenger side!
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
Gone Baby Gone
04/08/10 11:34 PM |
Projectile
| Permalink
A couple of days after the Convertible came out of the
shop I got word about the truck, which was towed at the
same time as the 'vert. The timing chain was the
culprit and the damages to the wallet being greater
than the value of the truck Jenni and I grudgingly
conceded that the battle was finally lost. The last two
times the truck had been in the shop, both within 6
months of this 'final straw' had added up to nearly a
grand of our scarce and hard earned money. Another
$700, plus the inevitable promise of more problems on
the 24 year old transport, and third vehicle, made the
hard choice the right choice. It was time to give in
and give up on the money pit, especially since we each
have a way to get around without relying on the other
or re-arranging our schedules on a daily basis to ride
in together.
Chuck Pace ©2010
|
Chuck Pace ©2010
|