The Theory of Cascading Failures
Or Sadies vs. Bach vs.
Robeson
I started out Saturday morning, which
started poorly, for several reasons:
I dragged my ass out to the local independent grocer's seeking coffee. Sleepy, confused, I grabbed a bag of beans labeled "Hawaiian Grog." Cause, you know, Hawaii is supposed to grow some good coffee. At home I realized that the coffee was only Hawaiian because it had coconut shreds in it. Which may be fine on occasion, but didn't hit the spot.
After choking down some of the "Grog," I headed to the garage to diagnose my Alfa. "I'll check the ignition!" I thought to myself. So I put on Bach's Mass in B minor, figuring it would be conducive to checking gaps, dwell angles and sparks. Hmm. All looks good. Gap checks out. Lets see what happens. RrrRrrRrr. Hmm. RrrRrrRrr. Hmmm. What's this in the passenger seat? An unopened Diet Coke! I popped the Diet Coke's tab and walked over to double check my work. Well, damn, it certainly would help if the rotor was in there, wouldn't it. Dag Nab It! I grabbed the rotor and tumped the 12 ounce can over, soaking the Spica pump and maybe the starter. I clean it up. Sort of. I mean, it can clean off some of the grease, just as it dissolves a tooth or chicken bone. I decide to eat some protein before continuing my boneheadedness.
I try to start it up again, with Diet Coke rinsed off, and rotor reinstalled.
Click.
Dag.
Click.
Click.
Ooof. Well that sucks. I hook up the battery charger.
Today, with a fully charged battery and Paul Robeson (instead of Bach- who, as a German, was probably putting some ill BMW Alfa-bashing mojo on my activities the day before) on the stereo, stuck the key in, turned it, and ...
click.
I cleaned the cables, checked the grounds and fuses, and did the trick with the cold start solenoid just in case. To no avail. Most likely the starter solenoid is kaput, which is made of common grade highcostitonium. So, what? I'll order it up, probably and alternator too.
I checked the oil yesterday, just out of idle curiosity. Not good. A wiff of varnishy badness had me running over to my Alfa Owner's Bible and the AlfaBBS to check out what sort of demonic possession this would indicate. Turns out is one of the worst. I double checked the diagnosis by yanking the barometric sensor. Yep, the injection pump had an even nastier varnishy stench, the foul breath of Spica Failure Demon. Damn. Which means the following:
Pulling the pump.
Shipping it off to Wes Ingram for Spica Mojo Blessing
OR
Weber conversion.
I dunno. We'll see. Now, with Klondike and Dos Equis at hand, I'm listening to the Sadies "Tremendous Efforts" with which I should have started.
I dragged my ass out to the local independent grocer's seeking coffee. Sleepy, confused, I grabbed a bag of beans labeled "Hawaiian Grog." Cause, you know, Hawaii is supposed to grow some good coffee. At home I realized that the coffee was only Hawaiian because it had coconut shreds in it. Which may be fine on occasion, but didn't hit the spot.
After choking down some of the "Grog," I headed to the garage to diagnose my Alfa. "I'll check the ignition!" I thought to myself. So I put on Bach's Mass in B minor, figuring it would be conducive to checking gaps, dwell angles and sparks. Hmm. All looks good. Gap checks out. Lets see what happens. RrrRrrRrr. Hmm. RrrRrrRrr. Hmmm. What's this in the passenger seat? An unopened Diet Coke! I popped the Diet Coke's tab and walked over to double check my work. Well, damn, it certainly would help if the rotor was in there, wouldn't it. Dag Nab It! I grabbed the rotor and tumped the 12 ounce can over, soaking the Spica pump and maybe the starter. I clean it up. Sort of. I mean, it can clean off some of the grease, just as it dissolves a tooth or chicken bone. I decide to eat some protein before continuing my boneheadedness.
I try to start it up again, with Diet Coke rinsed off, and rotor reinstalled.
Click.
Dag.
Click.
Click.
Ooof. Well that sucks. I hook up the battery charger.
Today, with a fully charged battery and Paul Robeson (instead of Bach- who, as a German, was probably putting some ill BMW Alfa-bashing mojo on my activities the day before) on the stereo, stuck the key in, turned it, and ...
click.
I cleaned the cables, checked the grounds and fuses, and did the trick with the cold start solenoid just in case. To no avail. Most likely the starter solenoid is kaput, which is made of common grade highcostitonium. So, what? I'll order it up, probably and alternator too.
I checked the oil yesterday, just out of idle curiosity. Not good. A wiff of varnishy badness had me running over to my Alfa Owner's Bible and the AlfaBBS to check out what sort of demonic possession this would indicate. Turns out is one of the worst. I double checked the diagnosis by yanking the barometric sensor. Yep, the injection pump had an even nastier varnishy stench, the foul breath of Spica Failure Demon. Damn. Which means the following:
Pulling the pump.
Shipping it off to Wes Ingram for Spica Mojo Blessing
OR
Weber conversion.
I dunno. We'll see. Now, with Klondike and Dos Equis at hand, I'm listening to the Sadies "Tremendous Efforts" with which I should have started.
Posted: Sun - February 12, 2006 at 06:00 PM |
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Published On: Feb 12, 2006 06:00 PM
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Published On: Feb 12, 2006 06:00 PM