bthompson
Jedi Warrior
Offline
Okay, so it was the first nice day in awhile and I figured I'd drive Nigel to work. I'd driven him around town, but this would be the first big carbon blow-out all season. 20 minutes at 60, to boil off the condensation in the oil. Yeah, it was brisk, but at least the sun was shining. The usual assortment of rattles, shakes, and squeaks, but the engine was running smooth that morning.
On the way home, a new, alarming, grinding sound. One that rapidly got worse. Marbles in a blender. My first reaction, "Oh crap, I've spun a bearing." Or dropped my thrust washer. I stabbed the clutch a few times, and the grinding didn't abate. Not the clutch, maybe, and probably not the thrust washer, either. The grinding wasn't in sync with the engine speed, nor was it in sync with tire rotation. Just a relentless, semi-random grinding. Oil pressure steady, water temp good, steady amps...What the @#$%! could this <span style="font-style: italic">be</span>? As traffic blew around me, I hobbled to the first available exit, hoping nothing expensive was happening, but from the sound of it, imagining my poor engine spinning itself into a molten lump.
In a handy Wal-Mart parking lot, I popped the bonnet to see what I could see in the rapidly-darkening dusk. And there it was.
My starter had fallen off.
<span style="font-style: italic">Fallen.
<span style="font-weight: bold">OFF</span>.</span>
No bolts, no nuts, no washers, just a starter hanging by its cable, the end of the bendix bouncing merrily against the flywheel. "Oh, crap," again, and I reflexively kill the ignition. The bendix gear looked like the loser in a grudge match with a flywheel spinning at 3500 rpm. Which, of course, it <span style="font-style: italic">was</span>. The backside of the flywheel didn't fare much better. It dawned on me, slowly, that I now couldn't start the car. It was now black, and bitterly cold. Even with a handy Wal-Mart parking lot attendant to assist in the forward momentum, popping the clutch brought no joy. Hours later, exhausted, freezing, hands covered in British Engine Slime, I admit defeat and call the AAA.
Sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes...well, <span style="font-style: italic">you </span>know. The old saying about LBC's, that "bits sometimes fall off..." well, whaddaya know. They <span style="font-style: italic">DO</span>.
On the way home, a new, alarming, grinding sound. One that rapidly got worse. Marbles in a blender. My first reaction, "Oh crap, I've spun a bearing." Or dropped my thrust washer. I stabbed the clutch a few times, and the grinding didn't abate. Not the clutch, maybe, and probably not the thrust washer, either. The grinding wasn't in sync with the engine speed, nor was it in sync with tire rotation. Just a relentless, semi-random grinding. Oil pressure steady, water temp good, steady amps...What the @#$%! could this <span style="font-style: italic">be</span>? As traffic blew around me, I hobbled to the first available exit, hoping nothing expensive was happening, but from the sound of it, imagining my poor engine spinning itself into a molten lump.
In a handy Wal-Mart parking lot, I popped the bonnet to see what I could see in the rapidly-darkening dusk. And there it was.
My starter had fallen off.
<span style="font-style: italic">Fallen.
<span style="font-weight: bold">OFF</span>.</span>
No bolts, no nuts, no washers, just a starter hanging by its cable, the end of the bendix bouncing merrily against the flywheel. "Oh, crap," again, and I reflexively kill the ignition. The bendix gear looked like the loser in a grudge match with a flywheel spinning at 3500 rpm. Which, of course, it <span style="font-style: italic">was</span>. The backside of the flywheel didn't fare much better. It dawned on me, slowly, that I now couldn't start the car. It was now black, and bitterly cold. Even with a handy Wal-Mart parking lot attendant to assist in the forward momentum, popping the clutch brought no joy. Hours later, exhausted, freezing, hands covered in British Engine Slime, I admit defeat and call the AAA.
Sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes...well, <span style="font-style: italic">you </span>know. The old saying about LBC's, that "bits sometimes fall off..." well, whaddaya know. They <span style="font-style: italic">DO</span>.