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Datsuncog's Heaps: Sept 2023 - Another Year's T-Met Exemption Certificate...


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Missing wheelnuts? Hole in the boot floor? Loose trim piece? Maybe the insulation is peeling off your HT leads and letting all the electric out? Well worry no more with the new multipurpose JML Shite Tack!

 

Use in conjunction with Magic Matchsticks, Supa-Gaffa-Tape, and our popular Slightly different colour aerosol paint system to enhance your vehicles giffer quota and value!!

 

(You'd never know I work in sales and marketing would you?)

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On 11/28/2017 at 4:01 PM, Parky said:

Missing wheelnuts? Hole in the boot floor? Loose trim piece? Maybe the insulation is peeling off your HT leads and letting all the electric out? Well worry no more with the new multipurpose JML Shite Tack!

Use in conjunction with Magic Matchsticks, Supa-Gaffa-Tape, and our popular Slightly different colour aerosol paint system to enhance your vehicles giffer quota and value!!

(You'd never know I work in sales and marketing would you?)

^^ I genuinely laughed out loud at this, to the extent that the cat fell off my knee. 

I used to work in a cookshop boasting a JML gondola with videoscreen near the till. Round and round it looped, all the livelong day, burbling about amazing multipurpose graters with two and a half thousand attachments (none of them dishwasher safe); unwise-looking plastic bags with which to heat beans to blast furnace temperatures in a toaster and then lose three layers of skin trying to retrieve; and inexplicably 'revolutionary' casserole dishes (stand-out line: "what a delicious chilli!", delivered as a throwaway aside of terrifying earnestness).That thing still haunts my dreams, fifteen years later.

You didn't happen to be the brains behind the "SAVE!!! £1500!!! Of the cost of a new computer!!!" ads so prevalent in the Sunday supplements in the late 1990s? A revolutionary word processing machine, with NO expensive software costs, NO virus risks, NO need for additional hardware, and FULLY guaranteed against the Millennium Bug?

It was a plastic typewriter.

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Ha, no that wasn't me. I was more your "Elvis and Diana in Heaven" commemorative plate guy. No seriously I do proper sales and shiz for dull financial stuff.

 

I love infomercials. Even a cynic like me can't watch them for more than ten minutes without NEEDING a steam mop, a pressure cooker, or a set of Chef Tony's knives (they can cut plasterboard and STILL slice your to - may - to's super thin every time!)

 

You always know you are on a winner when someone eliminated from week three of bake off 2013 is telling you how brilliant a product is. They'd never lie for money

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On 11/28/2017 at 4:50 PM, Parky said:

Ha, no that wasn't me. I was more your "Elvis and Diana in Heaven" commemorative plate guy. No seriously I do proper sales and shiz for dull financial stuff.

I love infomercials. Even a cynic like me can't watch them for more than ten minutes without NEEDING a steam mop, a pressure cooker, or a set of Chef Tony's knives (they can cut plasterboard and STILL slice your to - may - to's super thin every time!)

You always know you are on a winner when someone eliminated from week three of bake off 2013 is telling you how brilliant a product is. They'd never lie for money

Sounds like a candidate for the celebrated Viz-endorsed Elvis Tutankhamen Dambusters souvenir clock plate... All high-quality items, of course.

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I also love infomercials, with the same ill-placed fascination that forces me to gawp at traffic accidents... I think my personal favourites (other than the incomparable Chef Tony knives) are those with all the production values of an infants' school play where increasing numbers of unexpected 'guests' rock up to a wobbly kitchen set, and can only be fed thanks to the presence of some gimcrack omelette pan/smoothie blender/table top grill, which magically satisfies all-comers... I don't even know why these in particular tickle me so much - but they do.

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On 11/28/2017 at 2:54 PM, Vince70 said:

I’m not sure if it helps but I had a problem like this on a old motor a few years back and it was because someone has removed the plastic sheeting behind the door panel so water was making its way inside the car.

I just got some plastic sheeting and cut it to size and it was fine after that, I had some double sided sticking tape knocking about but I’m sure white blutack will do the job.

I loved the mot write up I was in tears of laughter.

You know, I'll bet that what it is - it appears that the door panel's been removed at some point, then glued on with epoxy or something slightly squint (probably because all the trim clips broke on removal).

Since the RN has actual toothmarks on the steering wheel and nearly every panel is kicked in, I'm going to guess the replacement of plastic sheeting wasn't all that high up its previous owner's to-do list... I shall investigate, thanks!

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On 11/29/2017 at 12:49 PM, IainL said:

Brilliant write up on the MOT, I really enjoyed reading that!

Good work on the Pass.

BTW (you may already know this), shingles can be awoken by stress so you could well blame the Renner!

Hey, thanks! Blown away here by the positive response to my re-telling of a fairly mundane episode... maybe I should try recounting the time I drove my Viva HC from Belfast to Vias-Plage on the Mediterranean coast, and got mistaken for a pimp/drug dealer by prospective 'customers', a Renault 19 full of Algerian gangsters, and finally les gendarmes... (it seems the French didn't really 'get' the retro aesthetic in the late '90s, despite the impression I'd garnered from Air's early singles). We made it all the way back home, too. 

I've been told that shingles can be stress-related! I hadn't really considered myself stressed at the minute but... two Renners, fair point!

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On 11/29/2017 at 5:02 PM, Dirk Diggler said:

Great write up; Moon Safari got played a bit lately, had nearly forgotten how good it was

Absolutely cracking album, and still one of my all-time favourites!

I once blew the Kenwood 6x9s in my Datsun Sunny playing Brakes On (from their Premiers Symptomes EP) at an injudicious volume... for me, Air and Autoshite are inextricably entwined.

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Only a few minor bits and pieces to update today... I was so shocked by Monday's utterly unexpected MOT pass and the off-again/on-again sidelights drama, that yesterday was spent in a kind of a daze. Though that might have been something to do with the prescription meds as well, mind.

With all the train fun* on Monday, I didn't get the chance to fit the NOS set of spark plugs won from Fleabay last week before the MOT as intended. The Champion plugs fitted to TAZ when purchased turned out to be in a disgraceful condition, corroded and badly worn, so I'd swapped them for a set of NGK BPR6Es out of the comatose silver car (KAZ) as a make-do. This is what the original Champion plugs looked like: the pre-set 0.9mm gap had by now burned away to over 1.1mm.

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Finding out which plugs are needed for these Lagunas is a pain in the arse; there's a great deal of contradiction between information sources. I'd previously spunked away good money fitting plugs that may have been correct on the motor factor's computer, but ran like a bag of lumpy shite in the car.

BPR6Es aren't recommended anywhere for the 8v Laguna 1.8, but KAZ ran very well on them for three years so I went with my gut. Two full packs of plugs, slightly shop-soiled, were mine for £12.50, including postage.

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The emissions test result from Monday's MOT seems fine, even using these old plugs with at least 30k's worth of wear on them, so I don't have any real concerns about dropping in a fresh set the same. Both the old and new BPR6Es have NGK's patented V-Groove electrode, which claims to do something-or-other beneficial: for years I used to fit every BHP-boosting mod advertised, running SplitFires, Bosch Super4s and NGK Platinums (though not all at the same time) in the forlorn hope of wringing fractionally more power from my variously shagged motors. Now I realise that the exact profile of the anode is probably not the limiting factor in my scabby vehicles' general shitty performance.

Temperatures were hovering around 4 degrees today and I'm still feeling a bit peaky, so I didn't really want to hang around outside doing car work. With all the swapping and faffing during the coilpack debacle earlier in the month, at least everything was nice and loose. New plugs went in without issue, and the new HT leads seem to slip on well enough and make good contact. Starting up, everything sounded as it should. I didn't take it out for a run - will leave that for another day.

Still, I noticed that the old plugs have a solid connector on top, whereas the new replacements have a hollow threaded connector for some reason. Not really sure why this should be, or whether it should make any difference - though I seem to recall something from my dim and distant past at Halfords Parts Desk about extension towers, or something like that, for certain DOHC units with deeply recessed plugs... or maybe that's pure invention.

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While checking that everything else appears relatively shipshape under the bonnet, the memory of the beautifully machined yet utterly useless locking wheel bolt kept flitting back into my mind, along with Hooli's wise words...

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That's brilliant. Why fix something when you can spend as long making a dangerous bodge of it, genius!

I couldn't help but wonder how many other bodges, dangerous or otherwise, might be lurking within this car. While I've no doubt that Diddy Liam Gallagher from Mallusk test centre must know his onions or else he wouldn't have been let loose amongst the general public, it's fair to say I am alert to the possibility of further remedial work.

So what else is, ahem, at slight variance to what God and Renault intended? Well, feast your eyes:

This is the string loop that allows the bonnet to be opened without needing access to the pull lever under the steering wheel, in a kind of giffer version of quick release bonnet pins. Great for having your battery nicked, obviously.

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This bit of breather pipe looks suspiciously similar to a length I bought from a local aquatic store to help siphon heating oil. I'm fairly sure it doesn't have a Renault part number anywhere on it.

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Here's what's at one end of the breather pipe; looks like it might not be all that air-tight.

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And at the other... what looks like a lino offfcut with a jubilee clip round it. Hmm. It also just popped off in my hand with the slightest pressure, so again I'm not really convinced about gas-tightness.

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I'd originally thought that a lot of the oiliness around the engine came from the previous giffer's make-your-own-Waxoyl fixation, where he would mix the old engine oil with diesel and spray it all over the underside of the car (together with all the other bits that got in the way). Presumably this indefatigable Blitz spirit also leads him to mash up parsnips with a few drops of banana essence, rather than risk the lives of Our Brave Boys in the merchant navy from those dashed Jerry U-boats. But now I'm not so sure a lot of it isn't coming from this jerry-rigged connector.

There's no illustration of the 1.8 8v in the HBOL, so I'm unsure exactly what this should look like (the silver car looks totally different under the bonnet, despite being notionally the same 1.8 unit). But at the very least, I think a new bit of pipe could be procured and secured rather better.

I also found this anomaly - what looks like a foam earplug, stuffed into a heater feed pipe junction and secured with a cable tie to act as a blank. But for why? Answers on a postcard to the usual address...

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As it was by now getting dark, I decided to pack away for the day. Naturally, The Greybeast now decided that I could use a hand, and came to offer his expertise.

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Thanks, cat. Great help as always.

While lifting away the old plugs which I'd sensibly balanced on the edge of the slam panel, one of them dropped down the bonnet catch void, neatly landing inside the steel box section that runs behind the bumper. Since I can't even see it, I'm guessing it ain't coming out anytime soon. The dead 2.0 RT left on the end of a towing bar with a nearly new Halfords Pro 13mm socket and extension bar lodged in the self-same trap, despite repeated and concerted efforts to retrieve it. Arse.

I'll need to make up a job list for what else needs doing on TAZ - obviously, I need to get the hub replaced in the short term to get all four bolts back on the front nearside wheel, and an oil and filter change is also overdue, I would imagine. Annoyingly, the front splitter makes this car too low to get up my pair of cheapo Paddy Hopkirk ramps, which makes such tasks more awkward than they need to be.

I also might try to get in touch with the fellow shiter who towed away my dead 2.0 RT in exchange for an excellent bottle of Rioja back in May, but who I don't believe is on these hallowed pages... other than the bigger engine (and the terrible state of the bodywork), it was identical to TAZ and, I fancy, had one or two components in better nick on it. On TAZ, the lid of the centre console box is broken; the driver's electric window has been wound up and down on a beach, leading to a million little tiny vertical scratches all over it; and the driver's seat has split in two places. As the 2.0 was procured purely as an engine donor, I'm hopeful I may be able to swap the better glass and interior bits over before it's bridged.

And then the elephant in the room driveway: KAZ, the povo-spec RN which, after three years of utter reliability, refused to start as soon as I arrived home with TAZ - seemingly in a fit of pique. Something will have to be done here, as it's turning into a holding pen for items needing taken to the dump, and has been slowly filling with water and (latterly) mould and mildew. Is this the 90s kids' version of the fabled bASe Mk1 Sierra dangly - or just an old shitter that's lived too long? It's an unbelievably shabby old Renault, and hence of absolutely zero interest to anyone outside of these circles, despite being extremely sound mechanically and underneath. 

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Hmm...

I think I'll need to sleep on this one.
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Well, with all the MOT excitement last week, the Laguna's not had a massive amount of use since Monday - mainly as I've been rather knocked sideways by the prescribed 'shingles pack' comprising Aciclovir, Naproxen and co-codemol. The co-codemol pack is emblazoned with a band stating "Important information for drivers inside!", with various dire warnings about not operating vehicles or machinery should it make the patient feel drowsy.

Well, I can't say I felt drowsy at any point, but after changing the plugs on Wednesday, I took it upon myself to get some fresh air via a walk up to the EuroSpar/BP garage (about 500 yards away) to fetch some lovely nourishing soup (because ILL); such a trifling distance that I don't take the car unless it's something urgent and it's absolutely pissing down outside.

Which was probably just as well, as despite feeling fairly alert I inadvertently found myself in a hedge two or three times on the journey up, and then discovered to my puzzlement that I wasn't really able to read any of the labels on the shelves when I got there. I've never really had a reaction to meds before, so this was unusual. But it definitely ruled out driving for the foreseeable. (I came away with a lucky-dip can of Cream of Tomato, a pack of Butterkist popcorn plus a family-sized raspberry trifle yellow-stickered down to 49p, since you're asking. And I regret NOTHING.)

But I backed off taking the co-codemol anyway, and the anti-virals seemed to be doing their job since the lumpy red shingles rash started to fade a fair bit over the weekend. So, unmedicated, I headed out with Mrs DC on Sunday afternoon to the Christmas Market in Belfast, and was delighted* to see that the new NGK plugs made absolutely no difference whatsoever to how TAZ was running. At least it was no worse, anyway.

I couldn't decide whether the somewhat joggly and jumpy ride was simply down to me not having been in any car for several days, or whether the new Rikens up front had been helpfully inflated to 65psi by the same fast-fit techs who took nearly two hours to not fix the sheared and drilled wheelbolt issue. I'd asked to for them to adjust the tracking too, as the steering wheel was turned about 15 degrees off centre when I got the car, and that does bloody annoy me. It's now sitting straight, but I can't say I'm feeling the benefit. Further investigation may be needed here. As per the spark plugs, Renault, Haynes and online databases can't agree what the tyre pressures should be on these cars, with anywhere between 28 and 33psi recommended for the alloy-shod 14" hoops, depending on who you ask.

But anyway. We came home on Sunday in the dark around teatime, whereupon the Greybeast took up residence on the Lag's roof to discomfitingly stare at the fabled Supermoon for the entire evening. Little freak. He was out there for hours.

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Yesterday, then.

I'd spent much of the weekend listing a load of old car magazines and catalogues on the buy and sell thread here, as yet more boxes of my discarded junk had recently come to light in my parents' attic, necessitating some swift talking and promises of speedy action to Mrs DC - who, unaccountably, failed to be enthused at the appearance of this, the four hundred and seventy-eighth box (approx.) of my useless hoarded car-related shit from twenty years ago. I'd now scattered the contents of the boxes in various heaps all over our hobbies room.

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"What's in that pile?"

"Um... looks like mostly Auto Traders from 1993. And Classic Car Weeklies from 1995."

"Oh right. So they're for recycling, then?"

"Wha..? Nooooo... somebody might want those."

"WHO IN THEIR FUCKING RIGHT MIND WOULD WANT A TWENTY-FOUR YEAR OLD COPY OF AUTO TRADER?"

"Well, y'see there's some people on the forum who might..."

"JESUS ROLLERSKATING CHRIST, GET THOSE THE FUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE. NOW."

Mrs DC has an almost limitless enthusiasm for shite - but limits are indeed in place. Given that she has uncomplainingly pushed, prodded and put up with my never-ending cavalcade of unreliable shite for almost ten years now, it's surprising in a way that things had got this far until breaking point was reached. I cannot in good conscience feel that this was an unreasonable response, as this is someone who once hung over the end of a very long crowbar, in full view of the whole street, for half an hour to support a Polo engine while I disconnected the mounts to change a waterpump and cambelt. 

So, chastened, I did as requested and got them the fuck out of the house. 

I initially lumped them in the back of the Laguna, like some sort of automotive bag lady, but now they're being whisked by Royal Mail to secure locations throughout England. Stand by, chaps, they'll be with you shortly.

 

So yesterday, while Mrs DC was away out at orchestra (bet y'didn't think it possible to fit a double bass, a tall stool, a cased saxophone and a passenger into a Mk1 Yaris, hey?) I went to take a load of rubbish up to the dump, as well as drop off the eight or so discreetly wrapped packages to the Post Office counter along the way.

I loaded up two annoyingly floppy and damp-burst boxes of IKEA MDF quadrant for laminate flooring (a speculative purchase from Crap Corner in our local store several years ago, and not suitable for the intended purpose), a hacked-up and damp-damaged TV stand, and a load of laminate offcuts from fitting the hall floor, and crammed them into TAZ. With only twenty minutes until both dump and Post Office shut, I was on a tight schedule. I hopped in the driver's seat, and turned the key.

Nothing.

Zip.

Nada.

The courtesy light dimmed, and the engine warning lights came on, but that was it.

I tried again. Engine-wise, answer came there none. Bollocks.

I leapt out, intending to give the recalcitrant Renner a very hard glare, and see if that would help matters. How could the battery be dead? It was fine yesterday. Batteries don't just... die like that. (Only they do, and regularly, yet they fox me every time. Because I'm stupid.)

At that moment, a youngish fella from down the road walked past. I think he might be a cousin of the ones next-door; he's about a fair bit anyway. Must be in his early 20s by now; he used to hang around a few years ago asking questions while I was working at my assorted wrecks, and Mrs DC once let him sit in the Alfa 156 Veloce not long after I got it, which pleased him no end.

"She not starting, hey?"

"No... no. But she was fine yesterday. Just seems like the battery..."

"D'ya have a set of jumps?"

"Yes, but... I might try another battery."

Right enough, I'd installed a brand-new heavy-duty battery with a four-year guarantee into KAZ back in June, when it FTP'd under identical circumstances.

Quite why it hadn't occurred to me to swap the new, guaranteed, five-month-old battery in the unused car for the dusty black cube of unknown age and origin into the car used daily for transport, I'm not quite sure. But it was a rare lightbulb moment for me.

I yanked TAZ's bonnet pull, and scampered back down the drive to KAZ. Helpfully, I'd left the bonnet not-quite-pushed shut, so up went the lid and I began unscrewing the threaded terminal caps. Because I'd charged this battery up only a few weeks ago with (correctly) no particular optimism of getting the car running, I'd deliberately left everything only hand-tight, including the battery clamp. Out it came.

"You just using that one as a spares car now, yeah?"

"Not really... I'm hoping to get her running again, but - it looks like it's kinda going that way."

It's becoming harder to convince myself that the car slowly turning green and with moisture running down the inside of the windscreen is ever likely to provide reliable transport to anyone ever again. I doubt I sounded terribly convincing.

Next Door's Cousin was still hanging around in the driveway, trying and failing to get TAZ's bonnet stay located. Together, we managed the first phase of this advanced task.

"Do you want me to, like, hold a torch for you?"

I wanted to just do the job myself, as quickly as I could before the dump shut, leaving me with carful of crap (again) - without wanting to sound smug, umpteen years of being the 'We'll Fit It!' guy in Halfrauds means that I can and have changed batteries, bulbs and wipers in less than ideal conditions by touch alone. Come the apocalypse, it's my one marketable skill (that, and my flappy castanet hands that may persuade my captors to spare me purely for the novelty entertainment value). But yes, I could see some benefits of having a torch assistant. At least I was less likely to drop something.

"Yeah, go on then..."

He pulled out his phone and switched on the LED torch while I unscrewed the positive terminal, then realised that the negative terminal had a standard-looking 8mm clamp bolt on it, rather than the screw-off plastic mushroom to be found on all the other terminals. So, another bodge.

"I'm gonna need a spanner here - bear with me, would you?"

It was starting to rain now, and I ran back into the house, on through out the back (and speaking of lightbulbs, no of course I haven't replaced the blown outdoor light yet) for a very dark forage in the very damp shed for the socket set.

Have you ever put your hand on a slug in the dark? No?

Don't. You won't like it.

Clink clink clink went the huge 149-piece Torq spanner/wrench set (picked up from B&Q a few years back, and which has so far proved surprisingly rugged) as I pelted back through the house, pausing only to wipe bits of slug off my hand on what, inevitably, turned out to be the 'good' tea towel.

Out came the 8mm ratchet spanner. Off came the negative terminal. Next-Door's Cousin probably now achieving a doubtful Box Three on his job appraisal assessment as Chief Mechanic's Mate, with advisories for an urgent need at greater focus on the task in hand, and less inane chit-chat. Undoing bolts in the dark I can manage; doing it with a light swinging every which way (including into my eyes) except onto the bolt is rather more challenging.

Another guddle in the Torq box brought out a thirteen mil socket, an extension bar, and the half-inch wrench. Squoinch squoinch squoinch went the ratchet, and off came the clamp and nut, which I balanced on the slam panel. Out came the dead battery, in went... a battery charged some six weeks ago, and then used to crank a non-starter a couple of times. Hmm.

A bit of fiddling with the screw-on terminal clamp, and a tug to make sure everything was relatively secure. I put the spanner back in its place, and sprinted back down to the front door to dump the flat batt by the step, out of the way.

I came back to find that Next-Door's Cousin had been overcome with excitement at nearing the end of the task, and had begun putting back the battery clamp by himself.

"Just putting this on now."

"Yeah, I think the nut needs to go on first..."

"Just getting it on."

"Yeah, but I don't think you're..."

**Tonk**

The noise of the clamp nut falling off the threaded post and pinging down into the darkness of the engine bay was surprisingly loud. Next-Door's Cousin turned to me, his eyes huge with regret.

"That's exactly what I didn't want to happen."

Him and me both. Rather than grab him by the throat, I dived under the car with my own phone's torch. Nothing in the gravel. The nut had clearly gone to join the runaway sparkplug somewhere in automotive Valhalla behind the grille.

"That's okay... "

Somewhat tight-lipped, I returned to KAZ and removed the clamp nut I'd left lying in the empty battery tray; returned and screwed it in myself, then jammed the rain-soaked tools into the back and turned the key. The moment of truth.

TAZ sprang back into life, as good as ever. At least the problem was, on this occasion, what I thought it was. Waving Next-Door's Cousin out of the way with a slightly forced smile amid profuse yet insincere thanks, I roared off down the road.

Only to come to an immediate halt at the main road junction, now heaving both ways with evening traffic build-up. The interior clock had reset itself and was now showing 12:02, which didn't much help. Surely only a few minutes until the dump shut...

With only minor tyre-squealing as I took advantage of a miniscule gap in traffic, I bombed on down to the Civic Amenity Site and hammered on through the gates just as hi-viz blokey put his hand to the latch to swing them shut - thereby earning me the mother of all dirty looks.

Wood into the wood recycling, bit of broken printer into the plastic recycling, and - hang on, what's that noise?

TAZ, idling by the skips, seemed to be making a rather urgent and pained electrical squealing noise from somewhere under the bonnet. Not a belt, not a cam (so far as I can tell); it sounded more like an electrical motor under load. Unhappily.

Shit.

I couldn't do much about it there and then and so, to avoid lynching (I'm guessing it makes sense not to rile the wild-bearded men with access to a 15,000psi wood compactor, while all alone in the yard) I did what they were all silently screaming at me, and pissed off.

My intention had been to stop at the Post Office, but I didn't feel entirely confident that the damn thing would re-start if I parked up. I headed home, intending to have a proper listen on the driveway and perhaps take a quick video clip of the godawful noise, to see if wiser minds than mine could offer advice.

But by the time I got home, the noise had stopped.

I poked around, had a listen by the alternator and belt pulleys to see if they were the cause, but apparently not. Bizarre.

But why had the damn battery gone in the first place? Had I fried the electrics somehow through fitting the plugs? Had the cheapo ECP coil pack begun shorting out already, taking out the battery as it went?

No. Rummaging over in the passenger side, I suddenly sound myself surrounded by a halo of light. Wondering if maybe I were being undeservedly beatified by the Gods of Shite, I looked up - to see the recessed maplight was switched on.

The maplight which can't really be seen from the driver's seat.

The maplight that Mrs DC had switched on the previous evening on the way home from the Christmas market so she could do some knitting while we were stuck in traffic.

The maplight which, presumably, had heated up the roof panel over a period of hours to make it so nice and toasty that the cat stayed on it all evening, warming his little cat feet...

Bollocks.

Well, at least it was obvious in the end.

I trailed the older, flatter battery inside and hooked it up to the ancient Linwood. It started charging as normal, so I took that to be a good sign - but will be leaving the nearly-new battery in for the time being anyway. I'm fairly sure the newer battery has about 450 cold-cranking amps to draw on, rather than the slightly miserly 360 available here - even if it is a calcium jobber. It is a 1.8, after all.

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Then I ran up to the garage and offloaded the Parcels of Contention at their Post Office counter just before they shut. Unlike the main office which has a pick-up at 5, I knew they wouldn't get collected until the next day - but at least they were away to their new homes.

So, the moral of the story is...

 

Hell, I don't even know if there is one.

Suggestions?

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On 12/5/2017 at 9:21 PM, Zelandeth said:

As for random odd electrical noise: starter motor stuck on due to stuck ignition switch?

Had it happen to me on two cars before.

Ah, now it could be - it seemed to be coming from the side of the car that the starter's located.

Oddly, it really couldn't be heard once inside the car - just when I was outside.

I did hear the strained electrical noise a few weeks back when I was trying to get it to run on more than three cylinders, but didn't investigate at the time as there were more pressing concerns. I'll have another listen later on and see if I can track it down. That's a useful pointer, thanks!

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On 12/5/2017 at 9:30 PM, IainL said:

Thats a fantastic mental image I had there of you hurtling round corners, with a movie-style tyre squeal.

Actually did get a spot of Sweeney-esque cornering tyre squeal in - but only because I nearly missed the turn into the dump road (cunningly concealed just over a rise on a bend, and in the dark). Any excitement was quickly doused by the sound of about two hundred bits of laminate offcut falling out of a box into the footwell...

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ZOMGSNOKAOS!!!

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Well, I say chaos... a light dusting of snow last night, that built up little by little until dawn, but was nice and powdery and easy to remove. The roads had been gritted overnight, road conditions were somewhat white but generally okay: TAZ fired up at the first turn of the key and I had no particular trepidation in heading the two miles or so down to the local train station, especially with the new set of Rikens on for decent grippage. Right?

WRONG.

At risk of sounding like a reactionary prick... other drivers.

Half an hour to travel in a generally straight line down a hill, because of some clampett in a VW Toureg driving at literally 2mph (sub-walking pace, anyway - we were being overtaken by primary school kids on the pavement), on a fairly wide road with snow-free tracks. Any chance of overtaking was prevented by a line of traffic coming up the hill, at not much more of a speed.

Yes, there was slush. Yes, when I'd given the Lag a bit of a prod on the ungritted section of road round our estate, I felt just a little shimmy as the wheels shifted. But even so... keeping the speed down to 10 or 15mph if unsure, and leaving a big gap - that's fine. Understandable. But 2mph? Come on...

Additional to that was a Yaris in front of a junction further down the hill, whose driver had apparently just gone to pieces at the thought of driving any further, and had simply come to a halt in the middle of the road with their hazards on (the engine was still running, at any rate), forcing the traffic behind to squeeze around them and thereby bringing the whole junction to an absolute snarl-up.

 

I don't believe I'm especially cavalier in my approach to snow driving these days, having piled Mrs DC's Yaris straight into a bank one snowy morning when a long downhill stretch on a rural road turned out to be basically sheet ice beneath, and the car just kept picking up speed despite brakes jammed on... a formative experience I'm in no hurry to recreate.

But yes, station achieved without much drama. And TAZ has earned its first stripe as a WBOD, I think.

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And as for the "odd electrical noise" mentioned upthread... I now know what it is.

It's the demister fan when set to the '2' position.

Set to 1, it's fairly inaudible from outside the car. On 3, the blast of air being sucked through can be clearly heard. But on 2, the fan makes an electrical whining from under the bonnet but without the 'whoomph'. Having turned the dial to various settings and had a good listen, I can confirm this is the noise that perturbed me on Monday. I'd turned the fan up a notch to keep the screen demisted while I headed up to the dump; I'd turned it back down on the way home, hence the noise having mysteriously ceased back in the driveway again. Durr.

TAZ has aircon, so the entire heater system is totally different (and to my mind, not quite as good) as that fitted to povo-spec KAZ. Hence not recognising the noise.

So, situation normal... except I doubt I'll be feeling much like carrying out an oil change tomorrow morning, if the snow lies as forecast. Screw that for a game of soldiers.

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At risk of sounding like a reactionary prick... other drivers.

 

I hear you. Not even snow here this morning but roads infested with pricks who want to do walking speed in the middle of both lanes as they saw snow on the forecast!

 

How does fuck off if you can't drive you braindead fuck nuggets sound??

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Your rant is basically why I'm working from home at the first sight of snow. I'll probably make it in, grass verges provide traction etc, but I won't be able to go anywhere because people infront of me won't be able to drive. Or sit there spinning wheels for traction, and polishing the slush to glass, selfish pricks

 

In 2012 it took me 5 hours to do 12 miles. Sat for half an hour waiting for a lorry to finish sliding to a stop, then the 3 cars infront of me to get clear so I could run up the hill, waiting for endless BMW's and mercs to stop sliding about and mount a kerb so I could sail past... Top speed was 15mph but I plodded on! Then held up a snowplough behind me, my reasoning being I didn't want to pull over to let him past, then he bury me in 2 foot of compacted slush!

 

That zx was a proper trooper! Not giving a shit about mounting a hedge to provide traction here and there helped too, had to shout a lady out of the way as I slid towards a verge. Not to crash, but to mount it and the fresh snow for traction, every corner was polished smooth on the road!

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I once cancelled a training event in Doncaster early because it was snowing like buggery. Everyone went home, I followed about half an hour later after packing away.

 

Spoke to them the next day, Donny to Sheffield had taken them four hours. Two of those getting more than a couple of miles down the road from the store. I'd got all the way to Leicester in two hours, after driving around numerous "stuck" cars on a very slight incline. Gentle movements, plan ahead, minimal input. Some moron in a Bini spent ages polishing the snow at 6000rpm and was less than impressed as I drove around him at 3mph

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On 12/8/2017 at 1:04 PM, Hooli said:

How does fuck off if you can't drive you braindead fuck nuggets sound??

I really think that if snow is forecast, most folk should leave their car under its snowy blanket and phone a taxi to get them to the nearest station, or their place of work. It couldn't be any slower or chaotic than allowing people with minimal experience of driving in adverse conditions to venture out on the public highway.

Family and friends in Canada who laugh their socks off at what we call 'snow' may have a point, but they also get to practice snow driving for several months every year in cars with studded tyres. UK drivers just don't know what to expect, so either go off as normal (and immediately find themselves doing a nose-stand in the cabbage field) or crawl along like a mortally wounded slow-worm.

I think I'd have been less pissed off if the slow-poke up front had been driving a giffer-tastic Hyundai i10 - it's the fact that Toureg drivers and their ilk justify their massive, thirsty, view blocking, YPLACing conveyances on the grounds that, "ah, but I need a 4x4 in case it snows" - and then they crawl along like that.

(Sorry - this probably belongs in the grumpy thread. But hot damn, I hears ya too.)

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On 12/8/2017 at 3:22 PM, beko1987 said:

That zx was a proper trooper!

I'm sure it was! My ultimate winter car was a XM 2.5TD estate. During the Big Snow of 2010 it never put a wheel wrong, and towed so many people out of snowdrifts that I lost count. An immensely surefooted old beast with masses of traction, and put Citroen products right up in my esteem.

The only downside was that a previous owner had bypassed the heater matrix, so it would only blow cold air. That was a bummer when it was -8 degrees outside.

Ultimately its prowess proved to be its downfall, as after galumphing reliably over hill and dale for those frozen, sub-zero weeks, come the MOT in early April the floor and sills basically fell straight out at the slightest poke from the tester's screwdriver, leaving it to make a one-way trip over Rainbow Bridge (it did, at least, go to a specialist XM breaker to help others live).

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On 12/8/2017 at 3:48 PM, Pillock said:

Gentle movements, plan ahead, minimal input. Some moron in a Bini spent ages polishing the snow at 6000rpm and was less than impressed as I drove around him at 3mph

Absolutely. It's the complete failure to even understand the problem, let alone a potential solution, that winds me up.

With an increasing number of cars encouraging a 'point and shoot' mentality amongst drivers - lights and wipers come on automatically, lane correction and auto braking systems, even automatic hands-free parking - it's no wonder that their nominal drivers become unstuck once road conditions deteriorate below optimal. They've no idea how to 'feel' the car - when the tyres are beginning to lose grip, when the brakes are losing efficiency, etc.

Use a high gear, go slow, use the clutch judiciously to adjust engine braking - things I was told about driving in snow. Other than the unfortunate Yaris incident, that advice has served me alright.

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I did try to forward plan, hence waiting for the hill I had to climb to be clear to get a run up, although did find myself on the next hill loosing momentum, and basically crawled slowly up the other side at 70mph in 3rd...

 

Good fun though, 2 fingers to the many people coming the other was winding their windows down and saying "don't bother mate, it's terrible..."

 

My main issue now is I'm in a valley, and every route to work is up massive hills. Or the M40 up the cutting by Stokenchurch if anyone knows it. The m40 and 2 close roads they close instantly (m40 to stop the lorries getting stuck). One hill usually stays open (chinnor hill) but fuck that. Or I go right out to Henley on a 40 mile amble through the countryside, downside is I have no phone signal should I find myself upside down in a field!

 

Nah, I'll attempt to get to work to say I've tried, text my boss to say nah, turning around, and have tremendous fun getting home, and log on 2 hours later! Then go play in the garden with the kids as they'll be off school too

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The other thing that's a problem these days?  The ultra low rolling resistance plastic circles that qualify for tyres.  Have had the 107 out twice in the bad weather in the winter.  Between the world's most sensitive ABS system and the fact that the uber-eco-friendly tyres having slightly less than zero grip on anything even resembling slush it was downright lethal.  Had zero problems on the same day in the Suzuki Cappuccino or Saab which both had decent all season tyres on.  

 

I imagine that given manufacturers seem intent on shaving every bit of CO2 emission possible off things these days that most come with similarly lethal rubber from the factory.  

 

We live just round the corner from a school and on a slight gradient.  Last year we had a dusting of snow (if you could even call it that), and you'd have thought it was the end of civilization as we know it.

 

One pass in her supercharged Range Rover eventually got rescued and dragged up the hill by my Xantia as her attempts to Clarkson her way off the slightly icy pavement had her sliding closer and closer to my driveway.

 

I took the dog out for a walk about an hour later...she was still trying to reverse into her driveway.  All of 500yards from the school.

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