Yes, that’s the 911 sitting forlornly on the back of a tow truck on it’s way to the Powerhaus for repairs.
The reason for the repairs? The complete absence of a clutch – push the pedal and there’s nothing, nix, nada.
And forcing the car into gear amid a graunching and grinding of gears doesn’t make for enjoyable motoring.
Summer has hit with a vengeance and the forecast for the next week is sun and lots of it. An ideal chance (in fact the only chance) to dust off the Porsche 550 replica and put some miles on the clock.
When one long, hot, dry day is followed by another, the complete lack of a roof is no longer a problem.
The more I drive it the more impressed I am with the way it handles and performs. I’m especially impressed by the way it pushes my eyeballs to the back of my head every time I accelerate on a straight and then pops them out on stalks when I brake.
Luckily it also goes around corners – but always with a slight sense of menace that next time, if I’m not careful, it could end badly – in the harbour or over a bank.
Tonight it got photographed just as the sun was setting parked outside the house.
On Christmas Day we flew from Wellington to Nelson to spend time with Jean’s family as part of our Christmas break. Mike, our brother-in-law, kindly lent us his spare car to get around.
But this wasn’t your usual “spare car”, it was a 2005 Ford Falcon FPV 320 Boss ute. Now I’m not an expert on Australian muscle cars and all I know is that it goes like stink and the best way to drive is with the window down listening to the V8 in action.
I’m sure at least one of my lovely readers can provide more information about the car – you know who you are.
Ford Falcon Boss 320 Ute
It could have been a line from a crime novel. But it’s wasn’t. It was the sound I heard just before my 550 Spyder rolled slowly to a halt. The engine was running and the gears were changing but somehow the power wasn’t getting to the wheels. Somewhere in the mechanical marvel right behind my head, something had said enough. Thankfully, for a car with no roof, this happened close to home and on a fine day.
I’d just washed the car for the first time, in the process figuring out how to do that without filling the cockpit with water (the trick, it turns out, is to be really careful) and on the drive back to the storage garage I experienced the aforementioned clunk. It was followed by cursing, grunting and swearing as the car was pushed the final 50 metres to the storage garage by myself and my lovely wife.
A few days later the 550 was dragged unceremonially on to the back of a car transporter and taken to the wizards at the Powerhaus. I have to admit as it was driven away my only thought was that even on the back of a flat deck transporter, the car looked good!
Footnote: I got a call later that day to say that the patient was sick but could be cured easily and quickly without the need for any form of open heart surgery. Apparently a nut and bolt holding the drive shaft had come away which, for a modest sum, could be replaced and the car will be as good as new.
Now all I need is a fine day to drive it home.
Loyal readers may remember the almost trouble free starting of my various cars a few weeks ago.
Well I now have the 911 certified and registered and on the road. This wasn’t without some drama however. Despite going very well after 15 months sitting still, it didn’t stop very well – or even at all, really.
Driving it to the Powerhaus across Wellington to be certified was an adventure. Every set of traffic lights required a lot of pre-warning and frantic brake pressing as the car slowly, slowly, slowly came to a stop. Usually just inches behind the car in front.
The brakes are all fixed now and we are back in action – and I have to say, the lads did a great job tuning the car. It hasn’t run better in the last 5 years.
Ever since returning to Wellington my cars have sat, in garages, unused. Given their ages, starting them up after a 12 month hiatus isn’t as simple as turning the key and cranking. Just sitting still doing nothing means all manner of things could fail, break or seize. So I enlisted the help of a qualified expert to assist with the process.
Young Reuben works for the garage that regularly services the cars so he knows them well. He also, singlehandedly, finished building the Spyder over the last few years so is definitely the right man for the job.
Late last week he turned up at home with spare batteries, jumper leads, oil, spanners, screwdrivers, hammers, blocks of wood, in fact pretty much everything he needed to repair the cars, or even rebuild them from scratch. Game on.
We talked about what might happen when the keys were turned. It could be anything from massive clouds of smoke – the best scenario – through to seized engines and gearboxes – the worst scenario which would mean the real possibility of pistons or gears exiting through the side of the engine – not good.
With these cheery thoughts in mind we turned our attention to the first car – the 1972 Porsche 911. After removing the cover the car looked good – no leaks underneath and apart from the steering wheel being covered in mould all seemed well. The battery was re-connected and after 12 months sitting in storage still had enough charge to light things up. A few cranks and – wait for it – it lives. Completely undramatic – not even a lot of smoke. Proof, if any was needed, that those clever Germans know how to engineer stuff.
One down two to go.
Moving to the lock-up it was time for the real challenge. The Porsche 356 and replica 550 Spyder. The 356 has just had it’s fiftieth birthday and the Spyder, built from scratch over 10 years, was only completed a year ago. In fact I had it for 3 weeks prior to leaving for Europe.
It was clearly a matter of pride with Reuben that the 550 started easily. After all it was his baby.
A quick check for leaks, reconnect the battery and we’re ready. After a few cranks it thundered into life. “Take it for a spin” Reuben suggested. All good but there was a distinct lack of gears – none in fact – just a delightful grinding sound where the gears should be. Reuben disappeared under the back of the car for a few minutes with a can of WD40 and slowly life started to return to the gearbox.
Eventually we found second gear which was enough for a spin around the block to “loosen things up”. When Reuben returned we had all gears working.
Two down, one to go.
The 356, despite the loving care and attention it receives, was always going to be “the tricky one”. Having said that, the motor turned over easily but the 6 volt battery (yes the cars electrics are 6 volt – about the same power as an electric razor) wouldn’t do the job. A quick burst of 12 volt power (similar to using a defibrilator to start someones heart – you can do it, but not for long) and the motor was running.
The tricky part turned out to be getting the 356 to move. Taking the brake off didn’t actually take the brakes off. The antique drum brakes on the car had seized on at least 3 wheels and no amount of gentle persuasion would convince them to un-freeze. With the tight garage space, there was little we could do so next week the 356 is being loaded onto a transporter and taken to Reubens’s HQ, the Powerhaus, for a little work.
Bugger. But as the song says “two out of three ain’t bad” and it was a fun afternoon mucking around with cars. You can’t ask for more than that.
And, of course, there is always the movie. My apologies to the Rolling Stones for using their very appropriate music without asking first.
After the initial shock of moving back to New Zealand there are some things to look forward to that relate to being home. One of these was the chance to ‘unbox’ my cars.
For those of you who don’t know, I like old Porsches and have accumulated a few over the years. On Wednesday I went to the rented garage where two have spent the last year to check on them. Good news! They were both there (a relief) and seemed in good condition (a bonus). In the next week I’ll get a friendly mechanic around and we’ll start them up.
For a petrolhead like me this is bliss.
