I've known it would come for her one day or another, but one fatal Sunday morning as I turned on to the road home, death came for my baby's tired 7MGE.
The day prior I was out and about, soaking up the sun and getting some lazy Saturday errands done. She was doing well early, but coming off of a light the moderate rod knock I knew well, my companion in almost two years and over 11,000 miles of travel, became deeper and more menacing. I was worried, but figured that it was another phase she was going through, maybe the distributor jumped a tooth or something. A while back I backed off the timing and found the knock became much quieter. It was not to be.
My friend texted me, he was coming out to Texas and wondered if I could pick him up. Sure, I haven't see the guy in ages, and nothing starts a Sunday like a little cruise. I made it out to the airport to see him, but his flight was delayed a couple hours, so being my intrepid self I decided to go swap out the warped front rotors and have some nice smooth ones I picked up Friday. She was doing good on the way back, but something was amiss. There was a struggle in picking up speed, more so than before. In fact, I was really having to mash the gas to get going. Huh, must be tired or something.
It was that last, final corner which did it. For those that don't know, the way 7M's are set up, right-hand corners are known to starve the oil pickup to some degree depending on speed. I was feeling pretty good this weekend, so as usual I picked a good line and carried most of my speed through, putting on some throttle on exit. WRAAAAAAPPPPP-THRAP-THRAP-THRAP-THRAP goes the engine, and I'm running 2000 rpm with a hot game of pinball right smack in the engine block. The bearing had spun, and with it went my only set of wheels. It was an empty highway and less than a half-mile from home, so I just went with it. 20MPH all the way on the right with a heart-wrenching cacophony of metal-on-metal that simmered into a terrible game of either wack-a-mole or atari breakout on speed, take your pick. Gently bringing her home, I realized I was driving on to base with a car that was ticking. Not the best scenario really, but hey, gotta get the car parked. A constant eye on me as I approached, I decided to break the ice. "Guess who just spun a rod bearing?" That gets me a smile. Phew. Turns out the guy knew his Supras and had lost a couple engines himself to the same scourge. Dodged that one.
My poor, poor baby girl crests into the parking lot and takes up a spot right in front, where her heart takes its last few strained beats, emitting a sickening pulse of certain defeat. You could just feel the shoulders slump as I put her in park and she rocked forward unto the parking pawl, and stopped. I waited a moment, thanking her for two years of service, burning fuel at 13mpg or worse, taking me up and down the California coast, carving corners and nailing apexes, feeling my anger and sadness, living in the moment of rainstorms, sunny days, lazy weekends, hunting for a strip of asphalt to live life out on.
It is not the end however.
A machine and a man can form such a weird bond, and even though every logical and rational process leaves her to rust in a junkyard and eventually be crushed and shredded, this is not to be her fate, not by my hand. She sits parked, silently and patiently waiting for another day, a day when she will become my phoenix, and awaken anew. Call it heresy, pitchfork-and-torch your way to my doorstep and come to murder the cursed Frankenstein which beleaguers your souls and poisons your thoughts, she will ride again, breathing air into eight cylinders with pushrod-activated valves, a creation known well amongst enthusiasts simply as "LS." Six gears will provide conduit to the power, feeding a 3.73 limited-slip differential out the rear wheels. ETA of project completion? Let's say one year from the day I get the engine home.
Oh yeah, and I got a short clip of the engine before I shut her off for good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nS-9lmcoZ0
No cliffs, I tried to make it an interesting read. Feedback? Questions? Thoughts? Gripes?
The day prior I was out and about, soaking up the sun and getting some lazy Saturday errands done. She was doing well early, but coming off of a light the moderate rod knock I knew well, my companion in almost two years and over 11,000 miles of travel, became deeper and more menacing. I was worried, but figured that it was another phase she was going through, maybe the distributor jumped a tooth or something. A while back I backed off the timing and found the knock became much quieter. It was not to be.
My friend texted me, he was coming out to Texas and wondered if I could pick him up. Sure, I haven't see the guy in ages, and nothing starts a Sunday like a little cruise. I made it out to the airport to see him, but his flight was delayed a couple hours, so being my intrepid self I decided to go swap out the warped front rotors and have some nice smooth ones I picked up Friday. She was doing good on the way back, but something was amiss. There was a struggle in picking up speed, more so than before. In fact, I was really having to mash the gas to get going. Huh, must be tired or something.
It was that last, final corner which did it. For those that don't know, the way 7M's are set up, right-hand corners are known to starve the oil pickup to some degree depending on speed. I was feeling pretty good this weekend, so as usual I picked a good line and carried most of my speed through, putting on some throttle on exit. WRAAAAAAPPPPP-THRAP-THRAP-THRAP-THRAP goes the engine, and I'm running 2000 rpm with a hot game of pinball right smack in the engine block. The bearing had spun, and with it went my only set of wheels. It was an empty highway and less than a half-mile from home, so I just went with it. 20MPH all the way on the right with a heart-wrenching cacophony of metal-on-metal that simmered into a terrible game of either wack-a-mole or atari breakout on speed, take your pick. Gently bringing her home, I realized I was driving on to base with a car that was ticking. Not the best scenario really, but hey, gotta get the car parked. A constant eye on me as I approached, I decided to break the ice. "Guess who just spun a rod bearing?" That gets me a smile. Phew. Turns out the guy knew his Supras and had lost a couple engines himself to the same scourge. Dodged that one.
My poor, poor baby girl crests into the parking lot and takes up a spot right in front, where her heart takes its last few strained beats, emitting a sickening pulse of certain defeat. You could just feel the shoulders slump as I put her in park and she rocked forward unto the parking pawl, and stopped. I waited a moment, thanking her for two years of service, burning fuel at 13mpg or worse, taking me up and down the California coast, carving corners and nailing apexes, feeling my anger and sadness, living in the moment of rainstorms, sunny days, lazy weekends, hunting for a strip of asphalt to live life out on.
It is not the end however.
A machine and a man can form such a weird bond, and even though every logical and rational process leaves her to rust in a junkyard and eventually be crushed and shredded, this is not to be her fate, not by my hand. She sits parked, silently and patiently waiting for another day, a day when she will become my phoenix, and awaken anew. Call it heresy, pitchfork-and-torch your way to my doorstep and come to murder the cursed Frankenstein which beleaguers your souls and poisons your thoughts, she will ride again, breathing air into eight cylinders with pushrod-activated valves, a creation known well amongst enthusiasts simply as "LS." Six gears will provide conduit to the power, feeding a 3.73 limited-slip differential out the rear wheels. ETA of project completion? Let's say one year from the day I get the engine home.
Oh yeah, and I got a short clip of the engine before I shut her off for good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nS-9lmcoZ0
No cliffs, I tried to make it an interesting read. Feedback? Questions? Thoughts? Gripes?