LaserGuidedBunnyRabbit
09-30-2006, 01:25 AM
Most of you probably wont remember me, so I'll start from the beginning. It's a long story.
In April of 2005, I was in the market for a used car, around $3000. Mostly what I was looking for was something sporty, RWD, and full of potential. I was poking through the Wheel Deals like I did every week, and came across a listing for a "91 Toyota MR2. Needs TLC. $3000." I called the seller, and he told me it was a turbo. From that moment I was sold. A turbo for $3000 was a rare thing to be had. I was 17 at the time, still under the wing of my parents. I begged for an entire day to buy it. Finally, my mother caved in, and we struck a deal for $2700.
Instantly, my mother had her doubts. As I left the seller's Brown's Edition house, black smoke poured out the exhaust as I accelerated. I limped it home, with next to no power. Regardless, I was still giddy as a school girl about it. I ordered a used Air Flow Meter, which it needed, off of mr2oc.com. After installing, the car barely squeezed through emissions. It was enough to register the car, so it made me happy.
The next day, I got to drive my nice new car to school. Or so I thought. What happend next was the beginning of the first nightmare. As I was headed down Market, the car shut off. I looked down at the dash, and the temperature is through the roof. I look in my mirror, and steam is making it's way out of the engine bay. I called a tow truck, and sent it off to Appleway. Four visits and $1000 later, I had a new timing belt, coolant, and temperature sensor. On the fifth time I brought it back overheated, they told me they were going to start charging more. I took it home and swapped out the radiator and every hose clamp there was. But still, nothing.
All that was left was the headgasket. It was at this point that I hit up Greycobra_03 for the use of his Hillyard mansion garage. Considering he is the most awesome person in the world, he spent the day with me dropping the engine. When we got it out, we determined that the head needs to come off. He immediately turned to me and said "I don't have the tools for that. You need to take it somewhere."
During this time, like an idiot, I tracked oil foot prints all over his carpet. Something I am still embarassed about to this day.
A couple days later, we found ntrcptr90, or Ben at Spokane Auto Care. We loaded the engine on to the back of a truck, and drove it down. We then rented a trailer and lowered the MR2 from a 4-point lift to jackstands sitting on a trailer. We then crawled at 3 mph getting to the shop, and pulled the MR2 off of the trailer with another lift. Ben pulled the headgasket, and found it not blown, but unbelieveably clogged with stop leak.
$800 later, the engine is reassembled and mounted, and towed back to my house to finish the job. After putting everything else back together, it worked. It just plain worked. I drove the hell out of it. I took it to the track the next weekend and ran a 14.86 on my first ever 1/4 Mile. On a trip down to the Tri-Cities, I hit 136 mph, and make the drive in an hour and a half. I blasted through Montana's open highways at 120 mph.
The car had been put together in June. Now it was August. I was 18, had graduated high school, and in a few weeks was off to Pullman. Yet, a couple weeks before, the clutch began to slip. I parked it right away, ordered a new clutch, and finished putting it in the day before I left. That night, something went wrong. The car would violently rattle every time you left from a stop. I didn't have time to deal with it. I parked it and didn't return until next May.
Come May 2006. I'm back in Spokane, and working five days a week. I spend another week repairing the clutch slave cylinder, and find a couple stripped holes in the transmission. I drop the transmission for a third time, and use a heli-coil on it. Problem solved.. for now. A few weeks later, the clutch begins to act up again. Chattering at different times, and rattling on launch. Then, at one point, I'm coming to a stop, and push the clutch in, when I hear *snap* and the car dies. I use the starter to get it moving, and drive home in second gear.
The clutch had eaten itself alive. I ordered a stock one to replace it, and drop the transmission a 4th time. After putting it in, the car wont even leave gear. I couldn't take it anymore. For the first time in 7 years, I broke down, and cried. It wasn't over money, a girl, or a family member. Nope, it was over a car. I had poured blood, sweat, and finally tears into the car. None of it was enough.
I once again got it over to Spokane Auto Care. Much credit goes to them, Ben especially. The car was there for a month, and the bill came out to a very, very discounted $1000. I knew there was more wrong with it. The clutch did not engage properly. Adjusted all of the way out, it would still disengage barely off of the floor.
I was headed for Pullman again, and this time, completely disconnecting myself from Spokane. It came time to sell it. Once I took it home, it went right into craigslist, Wheel Deals, and the Spokesman Review. I would get one or two calls a day for the first week. Interest was fairly strong. Unfortunately the car was in worse shape than most were expecting. I was asking $3500 for the car. There were some very nice people who checked it out, and some incredibly rude people aswell. After three weeks, I finally had a buyer, who was planning to swap out the motor.
Unfortunately, the title had never been transferred over to my name. My mother had lost the title at the wrong time. We had to wait four and a half weeks for the new title to arrive. This was just last Saturday. Now that the title was in, I was ready to relist the car for another go. Before I did, I got a call from Montana on Wednesday. A kid was interested in the car, and wanted to come see it. I arranged to be in town on Friday (yesterday) and meet him.
As I was coming into town, I was trying my best to beat them there. I gave the car a jumpstart and it fired right up. I gave them a call and we arranged to meet at a McDonald's. I got three miles away from home, and I looked in my mirror, and all I could see was white steam. I pulled over, called my mother, and had her come pick me up. At this point I wanted to scream. I was going to be stuck with another potentially huge repair bill.
I had to call the kid and tell him something. It took me a while to think of what, but I finally called and told him that a hose must have snapped off on the way over. I asked if he was still interested in seeing the car. I expected a no, but received a yes. I drove down to meet them, and took them back to where the MR2 was sitting. This kid and his dad fit the Montana stereotype perfectly. Huge diesel truck with two year old dirt and just about every tool you'll ever need in the back scattered around. The dad was a blue collar looking man, and the kid had baggy clothes, a backwards cap, lip ring, and no muscle.
To my surprise, they were still very interested in the car. The dad pulled a flashlight out, and spotted the loose hose. He told us he wanted to go to wal-mart and pick up a clamp and some anti-freeze. I limped it there, and we went to pick up the goods. As we came to the checkstand, I pulled out my wallet to pay. He refused. This is when I knew my day was going to turn around completely.
In the parking lot of the Wal-Mart, on a Friday night, we clamped the hose down, and topped off the coolant. I got it home, and we took care of the paperwork, after he handed me $3000 in cash. I gave them the keys, said good bye, and watched him struggle with the clutch on his way out.
Just as I was headed back down to Pullman, I get a phone call. The dad called me and said he didn't even make it out of town. I gave him all the advice I could, and wished him luck. An hour later, he called my mom, asking if he could possibly get his money back. She refused.
I'm incredibly excited to be done with the car. However, I feel completely terrible that it has broken down on them. I can't help but feel that it's my fault. I knew I was going to be selling a lemon, but I had hoped they'd make it home first. Now they're stuck with a broken car on a weekend, over 150 miles from home.
Mostly I'm glad this chapter of my life is over. No more sports cars for me.
Another big thanks goes out to Ben at Spokane Auto Care, and Adrian. You guys were awesome and your help is not unappreciated.
In April of 2005, I was in the market for a used car, around $3000. Mostly what I was looking for was something sporty, RWD, and full of potential. I was poking through the Wheel Deals like I did every week, and came across a listing for a "91 Toyota MR2. Needs TLC. $3000." I called the seller, and he told me it was a turbo. From that moment I was sold. A turbo for $3000 was a rare thing to be had. I was 17 at the time, still under the wing of my parents. I begged for an entire day to buy it. Finally, my mother caved in, and we struck a deal for $2700.
Instantly, my mother had her doubts. As I left the seller's Brown's Edition house, black smoke poured out the exhaust as I accelerated. I limped it home, with next to no power. Regardless, I was still giddy as a school girl about it. I ordered a used Air Flow Meter, which it needed, off of mr2oc.com. After installing, the car barely squeezed through emissions. It was enough to register the car, so it made me happy.
The next day, I got to drive my nice new car to school. Or so I thought. What happend next was the beginning of the first nightmare. As I was headed down Market, the car shut off. I looked down at the dash, and the temperature is through the roof. I look in my mirror, and steam is making it's way out of the engine bay. I called a tow truck, and sent it off to Appleway. Four visits and $1000 later, I had a new timing belt, coolant, and temperature sensor. On the fifth time I brought it back overheated, they told me they were going to start charging more. I took it home and swapped out the radiator and every hose clamp there was. But still, nothing.
All that was left was the headgasket. It was at this point that I hit up Greycobra_03 for the use of his Hillyard mansion garage. Considering he is the most awesome person in the world, he spent the day with me dropping the engine. When we got it out, we determined that the head needs to come off. He immediately turned to me and said "I don't have the tools for that. You need to take it somewhere."
During this time, like an idiot, I tracked oil foot prints all over his carpet. Something I am still embarassed about to this day.
A couple days later, we found ntrcptr90, or Ben at Spokane Auto Care. We loaded the engine on to the back of a truck, and drove it down. We then rented a trailer and lowered the MR2 from a 4-point lift to jackstands sitting on a trailer. We then crawled at 3 mph getting to the shop, and pulled the MR2 off of the trailer with another lift. Ben pulled the headgasket, and found it not blown, but unbelieveably clogged with stop leak.
$800 later, the engine is reassembled and mounted, and towed back to my house to finish the job. After putting everything else back together, it worked. It just plain worked. I drove the hell out of it. I took it to the track the next weekend and ran a 14.86 on my first ever 1/4 Mile. On a trip down to the Tri-Cities, I hit 136 mph, and make the drive in an hour and a half. I blasted through Montana's open highways at 120 mph.
The car had been put together in June. Now it was August. I was 18, had graduated high school, and in a few weeks was off to Pullman. Yet, a couple weeks before, the clutch began to slip. I parked it right away, ordered a new clutch, and finished putting it in the day before I left. That night, something went wrong. The car would violently rattle every time you left from a stop. I didn't have time to deal with it. I parked it and didn't return until next May.
Come May 2006. I'm back in Spokane, and working five days a week. I spend another week repairing the clutch slave cylinder, and find a couple stripped holes in the transmission. I drop the transmission for a third time, and use a heli-coil on it. Problem solved.. for now. A few weeks later, the clutch begins to act up again. Chattering at different times, and rattling on launch. Then, at one point, I'm coming to a stop, and push the clutch in, when I hear *snap* and the car dies. I use the starter to get it moving, and drive home in second gear.
The clutch had eaten itself alive. I ordered a stock one to replace it, and drop the transmission a 4th time. After putting it in, the car wont even leave gear. I couldn't take it anymore. For the first time in 7 years, I broke down, and cried. It wasn't over money, a girl, or a family member. Nope, it was over a car. I had poured blood, sweat, and finally tears into the car. None of it was enough.
I once again got it over to Spokane Auto Care. Much credit goes to them, Ben especially. The car was there for a month, and the bill came out to a very, very discounted $1000. I knew there was more wrong with it. The clutch did not engage properly. Adjusted all of the way out, it would still disengage barely off of the floor.
I was headed for Pullman again, and this time, completely disconnecting myself from Spokane. It came time to sell it. Once I took it home, it went right into craigslist, Wheel Deals, and the Spokesman Review. I would get one or two calls a day for the first week. Interest was fairly strong. Unfortunately the car was in worse shape than most were expecting. I was asking $3500 for the car. There were some very nice people who checked it out, and some incredibly rude people aswell. After three weeks, I finally had a buyer, who was planning to swap out the motor.
Unfortunately, the title had never been transferred over to my name. My mother had lost the title at the wrong time. We had to wait four and a half weeks for the new title to arrive. This was just last Saturday. Now that the title was in, I was ready to relist the car for another go. Before I did, I got a call from Montana on Wednesday. A kid was interested in the car, and wanted to come see it. I arranged to be in town on Friday (yesterday) and meet him.
As I was coming into town, I was trying my best to beat them there. I gave the car a jumpstart and it fired right up. I gave them a call and we arranged to meet at a McDonald's. I got three miles away from home, and I looked in my mirror, and all I could see was white steam. I pulled over, called my mother, and had her come pick me up. At this point I wanted to scream. I was going to be stuck with another potentially huge repair bill.
I had to call the kid and tell him something. It took me a while to think of what, but I finally called and told him that a hose must have snapped off on the way over. I asked if he was still interested in seeing the car. I expected a no, but received a yes. I drove down to meet them, and took them back to where the MR2 was sitting. This kid and his dad fit the Montana stereotype perfectly. Huge diesel truck with two year old dirt and just about every tool you'll ever need in the back scattered around. The dad was a blue collar looking man, and the kid had baggy clothes, a backwards cap, lip ring, and no muscle.
To my surprise, they were still very interested in the car. The dad pulled a flashlight out, and spotted the loose hose. He told us he wanted to go to wal-mart and pick up a clamp and some anti-freeze. I limped it there, and we went to pick up the goods. As we came to the checkstand, I pulled out my wallet to pay. He refused. This is when I knew my day was going to turn around completely.
In the parking lot of the Wal-Mart, on a Friday night, we clamped the hose down, and topped off the coolant. I got it home, and we took care of the paperwork, after he handed me $3000 in cash. I gave them the keys, said good bye, and watched him struggle with the clutch on his way out.
Just as I was headed back down to Pullman, I get a phone call. The dad called me and said he didn't even make it out of town. I gave him all the advice I could, and wished him luck. An hour later, he called my mom, asking if he could possibly get his money back. She refused.
I'm incredibly excited to be done with the car. However, I feel completely terrible that it has broken down on them. I can't help but feel that it's my fault. I knew I was going to be selling a lemon, but I had hoped they'd make it home first. Now they're stuck with a broken car on a weekend, over 150 miles from home.
Mostly I'm glad this chapter of my life is over. No more sports cars for me.
Another big thanks goes out to Ben at Spokane Auto Care, and Adrian. You guys were awesome and your help is not unappreciated.