Rules for Road Trip Stories:
The tale of a lbc road trip, properly made, should have a structure
similar to that of any adventure story. A brief introduction of the
protagonist and the antagonist. An external plot, which provides the
setting for the conflict between the two; and an internal plot, which
describes the evolution of the relationship between the two. Such a
narrative lends itself well to a chronological approach. A little
foreshadowing, a few misleading plot twists, and some ultimate clash
in which the protagonist defeats the antagonist. That and of course,
a blazing sunset into which the protagonist drives... (and in the
tradition of allowing sequels, a slight hint of future conflicts...)
For example:
I, poor, foolish student that I am had made the determination that I
must drive my TR7 from Washington DC to Gulf Shores, Alabama to
attend a wedding. In preparation I put the TR7 up on jack stands and
spent 3 weekends hunting down all the gremlins which were known to
inhabit this automobile. Finally, on the morning of 12 May, I awoke
early, cleaned, vacuumed, waxed and loaded the car. The journey began
and immediately (foreshadowing, perhaps, greater problems than anticipated)
the oil indicator light came on. (within perhaps 2 miles of start...)
This was the first indication that the car and I were not necessarily on
the same team.
Being familiar with the exorcism procedure for this particular gremlin,
I ignored this knowledge and tried to ameliorate it by cleaning the
pressure switch and connections to no avail (foolish hope.). I resorted
to the true "cure". It should seem that every time the engine compartment
gets wet, the oil light comes on and stays on until I change the oil. So,
in the interest of time efficiencies, the local Jiffy lube was invited to
change the oil. Out came 5 qts of Mobil 1, with 200 miles of use, and
in went a new batch. (wallet ouch...)
And yet, leaving the Jiffy lube the oil light remained on.
In frustration, I started to head home. I had an extra travel day in my
schedule, so I could cure this a home and then head south. But first, I
tried cajoling the oil light to go off (alternately using the best prayers
and most colorful profanities I know). And therefore I managed to
distinctly blast past the posted speed limit directly in front of an
unmarked state trooper.
The first positive event of the day occured when the trooper displayed an
unheard of level of sympathy and gave me a written warning (I didn't
even know Maryland allowed such things...) ... and advised me to replace
my windshield (what crack? Oh that big one across the windscreen, it
must have just happened this morning...).
And then a few miles further, after tanking up with gasoline, the oil light
went off. Ok, the exorcism did work. I turned around and headed south.
Everything was pretty dull and boring until somewhere near the South Carolina
border (on I 85) a curious knocking sound developed. Finally the knocking
was explained when the frob which holds one of the sunroof ribs in its
channel popped off (and fell into the car!). The sun roof attempted air
braking. With a little wrestling I managed to pull the sun roof closed.
Pulling into a motel for the evening in Spartanberg SC I noted that the
real damage to the roof was minor, requiring a drill and pop-riveter to
repair. My lesson for the day was that the sun roof must be kept
either closed or fully open at highway speeds; configurations in -between
cause excessive stress on some of the little plastic parts. A certain
pride was experienced, however, as the car had just gone 470 miles
and not failed.
The next day I pulled out, with the sunroof closed up for the day. Driving
further and further south, I found my speed drifting gradually upward until
I was averaging 80 to 90 mph (mostly running with traffic). The car
drove rather nicely, with rough vibrations in the steering wheel at 55 mph
and 75 mph that I believe are caused by wheels which have barely acceptable
levels of run-out. The exhaust note sounded just right, mostly smooth with
a little bit of a buzzy edge (early stages of rust through). A few
friendly rainstorms cleaned the car rather nicely (kind of like a power
washer). Only minor water leakage occurs. Gusts of wind periodical
tested my lane awareness, and reminded me that the car is not really
that heavy. Finally, at 3 pm, with almost 600 miles added to the odometer,
I pulled into the Gulf Shores State Park Resort Hotel, on the Gulf of Mexico.
A truly great drive.
Oh, and when I attempted to start the car again, the first turn off the key
was greeted with a soft click. The second turn fired the car to life.
Hmmm. (Sounds like a starter solenoid to me, too...). This was the
first sign that the extended drive had taken its toll on the car.
The car was mostly fine the next couple of days, for local driving, with the
solenoid acting somewhat erratically. I did notice (when showing the engine
to the groom, a undergraduate buddy and serious motorhead) that a modest
amount of oil had blown out the back of the camshaft cover. Oil replacement
was now factored into my travel plans.
On the other hand, I had minimal coolant loss, and curiously enough,
after 600 miles of high speed driving, I found the cooling system
was working better than before the trip (or the temperature sender has
changed). Where the car would normally run at 1/3 to 1/2 on the gauge
(highway and stopped), it now runs at 1/8 - creeping up to 1/4 when
idling in place.
At 7 pm,on the 17th I departed, reluctantly, and headed north.
Uneventfully I reached Decatur, Georgia at 2 am and stopped for the night.
Tuesday the 18th, I added some oil, (nearly a quart) putting the car slightly
above full, in retrospect slightly overfilling turns into a good idea. The
car started quite nicely. 9:45AM and I was on the road.
I stopped for lunch/breakfast, at 11:30 and the solenoid declared war.
I attempted to solo roll start the car in a McDonald's parking lot. The
attempt was unsuccessful, but it did seem to cajole the solenoid into
working once. Now started, I had no plans to shut the engine down,
unless the engine failed completely.
8 hours later, and two running re-fuelings (but 0 bathroom breaks...) I
reached home (actually my parents home, as my house is in Baltimore.)
I managed to run the car for 630 miles without shutting down the engine.
I praise heaven for allowing the cooling system of my lowly TR7 to turn
in such a splendid performance, and for the keeping the oil leakage rate
low enough to not require an oiling stop (and the restarting troubles
which it would have led to). And I confirmed the serious failure of the
starter solenoid by attempting to start the car on the driveway with no
success.
I did it. a 2120 mile round trip in a TR7. No sweat, no breakdowns.
Oh, the sunset wasn't actually blazing, it was sort of misty and cool
in Washington on Tuesday. And the oil is still blowing out from the
camshaft cover.
By the way, does any TR7 owner out there still have the original clip-on
heat shield for the starter/starter solenoid? It appears that I will have
to fabricate one, and I am curious what the original looked like.
And for the rest of you who count, on the trip I saw 1 TR7 and 2 Spits on
the road, 1 MGB (red metallic paint job, pretty sharp.) parked, and
1 TR6 under tow.
Greg F.
From rwg1@postoffice.mail.cornell.edu Tue Sep 11 11:33:22 2001
From: (Roger Garnett) rwg1@postoffice.mail.cornell.edu
To: (British Cars) british-cars@autox.team.net
Date: 20 May 93 08:13:24
Subject: Re: monocouqe cars
>From Barry:
>I'm pretty sure that the car on the cover of the catalog is a Lotus Elite -
>the first production car with a monocouqe??
10 SOL points to the first to name the LBC that preceeded even the Elite
in production with a monocoque body.
Hint: one engine option was an Excelsior.
Roger -The weirder the LBC the better- Garnett
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