My Good Deed for the Day
Today I rode home via the bank on Norwood Parade. Before I got to the bank, indeed barely a km from work I passed a car broken down on the side of Beulah Rd. The poor girl had nice legwear, and the car was a Datsun 120Y station wagon, so I kind of had to stop. I told her I had a bit of experience with this model and she was more than happy for me to see what was wrong. Apparently the engine wasn't starting - maybe the spark plugs? They and the battery looked good, so did all the connections. She tried starting it for me. Starter motor was fine. Engine wasn't making a peep.
Distributor.
I made sure she wasn't in the driver seat - OH&S is in my marrow by now - and unclipped the distributor cap. All four contacts were caked with white corrosion. No current was getting through to the plugs, of course. Scoured that off with a screwdriver and clipped it all together again. Didn't start right away and at this point I had to actually think about what was wrong (as well as finally noticing her passenger!).
"How long did you turn it over for before I rocked up?"
"About five minutes."
Flooded. I looked in the handy little window on the carburetor: chock-full of fuel, of course.
"Try again."
She kept the starter turning over and we could hear the engine turning gradually faster and faster as the fuel vapourised out the exhaust. I realised she had her pedal to the metal.
"Pump that pedal!"
The mighty 1600CC beast roared to life. It sounded sweet. Someone has obviously been looking after that car, but until you have issues with individual components you understandably don't have the chance to get the experience. In any case, the pair looked pretty relieved. Said bye and took off - I still needed to get to the bank!
Distributor.
I made sure she wasn't in the driver seat - OH&S is in my marrow by now - and unclipped the distributor cap. All four contacts were caked with white corrosion. No current was getting through to the plugs, of course. Scoured that off with a screwdriver and clipped it all together again. Didn't start right away and at this point I had to actually think about what was wrong (as well as finally noticing her passenger!).
"How long did you turn it over for before I rocked up?"
"About five minutes."
Flooded. I looked in the handy little window on the carburetor: chock-full of fuel, of course.
"Try again."
She kept the starter turning over and we could hear the engine turning gradually faster and faster as the fuel vapourised out the exhaust. I realised she had her pedal to the metal.
"Pump that pedal!"
The mighty 1600CC beast roared to life. It sounded sweet. Someone has obviously been looking after that car, but until you have issues with individual components you understandably don't have the chance to get the experience. In any case, the pair looked pretty relieved. Said bye and took off - I still needed to get to the bank!