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

[Lacquer Peel]

What do you expect for £3495?

Zzzzzzzzzz

[The Reverend Bluejeans]

Zzzzzzzzzz

 

Blimey, he's finally bored himself to sleep! 

[Datsuncog]

[continufication from previous cliffhanger...]

It takes a few seconds to twig what's just occurred. I'm reasonably sure I haven't been shot; I don't appear to be in any pain (other than emotional). I run round to the front of the car, whence the hissing (and some of the banging) originated.

The engine bay is awash in brake fluid. The hissing is coming from the loose bit of pipe attached to the spare wheel, that I'd stupidly left propped against the front bumper and had tipped over when KAZ came down with a bang, ripping the pipe through the top of the Easy-Bleed bottle and creating an impressive brake fluid fountain, which managed to shoot out with such force that it arced right over the roof of the car to spatter me in the face, like some sort of impromptu Autoshite champagne celebration.

As well as fluid all over the engine and the underside of the bonnet, it's all up the windscreen and over the roof too. I detach the hissing pipe, and start throwing the contents of the watering can all over the paintwork in an attempt to dilute the corrosive stuff (and, it transpires, soaking the HBOL propped against the windscreen, for good measure) before it dawns on me that I'm kinda fiddling as Rome burns here. WTF just happened with the sill?

I wipe the fluid from my face and neck with a bit of kitchen roll, and gingerly go back to the worksite and take a look underneath.

Yeah. There's now a chunk of sill missing. And also various rusty bits around it too, right next to the jacking point.

It appears that, owing to the gravel, the trolley jack couldn't simply roll back a bit on its castors during the descent, and so geometry and physics dictated that something had to give. That thing was the sill. And the woodblock too, which partially split and hit my foot.

Head in my hands, I wonder just what the fucking point is anymore. It's about this time, many shiters would start to make speculative plans about the merits of taking up knitting as a delightful and easy pastime, but even that avenue isn't open to me - as at this very moment, Mrs DC is inside wrestling with an awkward set of mischarted yarnovers against a section of brioche stitch on Stephen West's 'Exploration Station' shawl, and I can verify that yarncraft's main contribution to her personal development has been to increase her swearing vocaublary and gin consumption by an unprecedented margin.

(Look it up, it's a really nice shawl. But as a fellow crafter said of a handknit cabled cardigan I was modelling, "Wow! You can just feel the swearing in every stitch!" It was a true comment. Some of her other projects include Shitwaffle socks and a Hexifuck blanket. Again, look 'em up.)

 

So. Back to me. Back to my busted Gooners.

I'm not sure whether the o/s sill now needs welded, or even if it's all that possible to fix along a sill seam like this one. Does it fall foul of MOT corrosion near jacking point regs, or is it just some minor frilliness to add to the rest? I take a closer look under it with my torch. Oh dear. It is somewhat brown and crispy under there. But how bad? Who knows. And... at this point, do I care?

In the spirit of utter futility, I decide that I need to finish the brake bleeding on KAZ. I need this one thing to be done and dusted, otherwise my other option is to run down the street screaming and bollock-naked, to then be found by the police hiding under a hedge sometime on Tuesday morning.

So, eschewing the trolley jack, I raise the front n/s wheel in the gathering twilight, and put the increasingly ironically-named Easy-Bleed kit back together. I hope I've enough bloody brake fluid left; I've lost nearly a quarter of the bottle.

I bleed that corner... again, very... very... slowly. It doesn't take that long for the bubbles to stop, but then it's only a foot or three from the reservoir. Wheel on, cranky cranky cranky on the scissor jack, back down again. And repeat for the rear n/s wheel. Such slow. So tedium. Wow.

Finally (and I'm working by my phone's torch now), the front o/s wheel. Up again, wheel off, more penetrating fluid, tube on and... er, what the actual fuck?

The 8mm ring spanner just slides around the bleed nipple's nut like there's no shoulders there. I try the open end; still nothing. I pull out an 8mm deep socket; nada, there's no grip.

I try a 7mm socket, but it won't fit over the nipple itself. Then, after much rootling in the dark, I find a 7mm spanner of dubious heritage. It... almost goes on. The open end slides on about halfway; it's really weird, as the nut doesn't look chewed or mutilated: just about half a mil smaller than all the others. It's baffling.

In all my looking and puffing, I also note that the disc on this side seems to be barely making contact with the pad at the back. So... are we talking new pads here? And new discs too, maybe?

Right. I have one shot here. I use a delicate ball-peen hammer to tap the 7mm spanner all the way on, so it's very tightly gripping the nut. With a suitable bit of pipe slipped over the end (as a Lilliputian spanner of this size is a mere three inches long), this might work... pressure... bit more pressure...

*Sliiiiip*

The hollow ting of a Chinesium spanner hitting the dark pavement marks the shattering of my dreams and the rending asunder of my mind. Or near enough.

I don't shout. I don't scream. I calmly put the wheel back on, put the jacks and fluids back into the (non-closing) boot, and lock up for the night.

My plan of action being to rise early, come back outside with a mug of coffee in my very favouriteist Mk3 Cortina mug, and make a calm assessment in the joy and peace that only a fresh spring morn can bring.

 

I was woken at around 5am this morning by rain hammering against the bedroom window. And not ball-peen hammers either; great big fuck-off four-pound lump hammers. It had not noticeably abated by the time I started typing all this after 7.

So far, I haven't gone outside yet. I haven't had the bottle to look at either of them. Because I know. And I'm sure they know too.

Mrs DC is now gently asking me what I'm going to do. She confesses that her patience is now as thin as the Halfrauds joke, and she's less than happy with the fact I've now spent three weeks giving all my free time to these diamond-fronted pains in the hoop, then coming in and getting the towels all mucky while screwing my face up and muttering obscenities to myself. She tells me that the fact I spent £64 yesterday should not cloud my judgement, and that more money and time is likely to be needed before either of these bastards actually start behaving like a mode of transport again.

As with so many other remarks made here by fellow shiters, I can see the wisdom in these words.

I'm hitting 'Add Reply' now, and going out. Decision to be posted on my return.

[Datsuncog]

Well, the verdict's in.

I'm going out for a bit.

Cheers for all the advice and encouragement folks. I think this thread has reached its (perhaps inevitable) conclusion.

Neither car is safe to drive. I could still fix one of them. But equally, I could heat a set of amusing brass clown figurines to 200 degrees centigrade with a blowtorch and insert them up my arse while humming a medley of Maroon 5 hits, and to be honest both options appear broadly equivalent in their appeal right now.

I tried. I failed. Such is life.

Til later,

Dat.

[Lacquer Peel]

The sill looks okay to me, just a bit frilly.

[320touring]

Can you not get a squad together to do a work shift? Surely enough folk from NI on here?

[The Reverend Bluejeans]

Good call. The car's fucked.

 

Bleed nipples? Wire brush, WD40 and then Molegrips. Chances are it will snap, and then it's scrap along with the rest of the car.

 

I hate Easibleed.

 

It's a ratty old Laguna with a top end engine problem. Just scrap the fucking thing because that bleed nipple WILL shear off. 

 

Old cars are ungrateful bastards. I bought a 2006 E90 a week or so ago for a bargain sum, literally peanuts. I had it all planned - engine supported, subframe down, sump off, all cleaned out, new chain kit fitted and it would be a nice car to smoke around it. But you just know the diff would be whining, or it would fuck itself in a different way because it's just another shit old BMW that's a bastard to work on.

 

So I thought smart and flipped it to a BMW breaker for an obscene profit. Bollocks to it.

 

You're at the stage now that I was at last year. I'm too old a bunny to be fucking around with this unless there is money involved, and plenty of it for minimum effort. These thoughts were going through my mind when, last week, I was pissing around with a 20 year old 318i worth about 50 pence because 'it's been a really good car for four years' and not thinking 'nail it back together and fire it on Ebay and sell it to some mug'. Bar the odd ABS fault it really is a lovely thing to drive because it's been used daily and maintained.

 

The world is awash with tidy useable cars for a grand. 

[Jams]

Focus for 400sheets a few posts up

[GrumpiusMaximus]

Buy the Focus. You’ll spend more on the Gooner. I know you like them and I get it but even so, it’s being a bastard.

[davehedgehog31]

Think our man is in Norn Iron, so the ferry fare might scupper that!

[GrumpiusMaximus]

Fair point!

 

Also, good call on the steel toe caps. I have a pair and from now on I’ll wear them when I’m working with a jack...

[mrbenn]

Hell fire, that's quite a sorry tale On the plus side, I think you've done rather well not to put the windows through with a tyre lever, DC.

 

There is the potential for another go at the bleed nipple (snug socket perhaps?) then try for an MOT and just see what it fails on, assuming it fails. However, that is very easy for me to say when I haven't been subjected to a brake fluid shower, flying wood and buggered nipples all in a single session. Don't think anyone would think any less of you for calling the scrap wagon right away, for both cars. Indeed, you've made a more than valiant effort in these endeavours.

 

Commiserations, brother.

[They_all_do_that_sir]

Would the calipers from the other one fit, or are they different as well?

 

To be honest by the time you sort the bodywork and do all the other bits and bobs to bring it back to a decent standard you probably could have bought a better one to begin with.

 

I feel your pain as it's a properly early base one but life is far too short.

 

I sold my XM because it gradually dawned on me getting it where I wanted would swallow all my spare time and cash. Yes I failed autoshite replacing it with a semi modern but it won't stop me buying a stupid old second car at some point in the future.

 

There's plenty of interesting reliable future shite chod out there for what you'll spend making this one nice methinks

 

 

 

Sent from my F3211 using Tapatalk

[Datsuncog]

Well then...

Again, thanks to all here for their commiserations and good thoughts. I know my current situation is a far from uncommon one in this murky corner of the motoring universe, but it's still a bit of a pisser nonetheless.

I'm not truly a buyer or seller, a swapper or a roffler - one of those funky cats grooving their way through the jet-settin' Autoshite high-life with a pocketful of green V5 'new owner' slips and a series of interesting welding spatter burns on their forearm, scrolling through their split-screen phone to check train times to Penzance to collect a shagged Marina while also keeping an eye on an Ebay listing for a two-thirds of a Hyundai Pony pickup on Orkney.

 

I am not these people. I do not adventure. I try to keep hopeless cases going, like one of those batshit people who habitually go to animal shelters and adopt the oldest, wonkiest, scabbiest animal there, spend a fortune on it during its last days, and then cry for a week when it inevitably pegs out. That's me, but with cars.

I get hopelessly attached to all my cars (except that utter piss-take of an Alfa 156) and the thought of both of them getting a claw through the roof in short order brings a lump to the throat and a tear to the eye, rather. Especially KAZ. Four years of ownership. The car we departed our wedding reception in. One FTP in all that time (battery cell). But nonethless, the verdict is in - this car is also effectively dead. It's harsh, but I can't really see any other way around it.

 

How did I reach this irrevocable conclusion? Well, I'm glad you asked. Let's roll back to this afternoon.

After completing the Saturday Saga posts earlier on, I did indeed go back out to the driveway, under less auspicious circumstances and in a more mutinous frame of mind than I'd hoped. The rain had stopped, anyway. I pulled the o/s front wheel off, again, and surveyed the ruins that lay behind.

It was no more encouraging in daylight.

The inexplicably fractionally smaller, yet utterly stubborn bleed nipple is clearly ruined. There's no shoulders to drive on, just a torn brass mess. At a teensy 8mm, it's too small for my mole grips but frustratingly a smaller socket simply won't fit over the nipple no matter what I do - so as a last gasp I use a chunky set of pliers to see if I can put some turning force on it. But the result is, predictably, just tearing up the nut even more. It's not going to budge. It's never going to budge.

(As an hilarious* aside, I'd had a similar issue with AdamMcC's Mk3 Cortina during its caliper caper a few weeks back, and nothing could shift it - not penetrating fluid, not freeze-shock spray  - nothing. After replacing almost the entire braking system and still seeing no improvement, we eventually worked out that the Tincorner's brakes were absolutely fine, and it was shot void bushes causing it to pull to one side under braking. Ah, Fords...)

The thought of swapping over TAZ's caliper does occur to me, but the bolts holding the caliper on to the stud in KAZ look like something Dr Bob Ballard would retrieve from the ocean floor using a robot-arm submersible, and, sure as night follows day, it would simply open up another world of pain.

Besides - if I'm fitting a new caliper, shouldn't I also be fitting new brake pads? And if I'm fitting new pads, I may as well fit new discs, right? Suddenly, another £80 expenditure is on the cards... and I really don't like the chewed appearance of the Torx bolts securing the existing discs. Nope. Seriously, I just can't.

It's not looking good. I'm still torn, but there's realistically nothing more I can do right now to sort the front o/s brakes. The fluid cannot be bled, short of snapping off the nipple and then taking the caliper away to be drilled and re-threaded by someone who actually knows what they're doing.

I put the wheel back on and drop the car down onto all fours. I put away the Gunsons kit, noting that the brake fluid reservoir is brimming and, thanks to an odd piece of design that basically has a diminuitive butt-plug on the underside of the reservoir cap, it's impossible to reattach said cap without spilling brake fluid everywhere (due to displacement, science fans). So I find an old syringe and use it to suck out some of the reservoir fluid (left over from when the cat had her jaw broken in a hit and run and needed to be fed mush, actually, not from my rock 'n' roll heroin-chic days).

You'll remember I mentioned the odd oxtail-soup colour of the old fluid expelled? Well, the fluid in the reservoir is pretty much the same. Only with bits floating in it. And they're not croutons, either (although some of the bits were getting on for that size). It looks like... rust. A lot of rust. Could it be that...?

Ah, shit.

Well, it looks like it... although if my suspicions are correct, this does make it slightly easier to pronounce the death sentence. I sigh and rock back on my heels, feeling an infinite weariness wash over me.

I told Mrs DC I'd take half an hour to assess the situation and then make a decision on KAZ's future. I even set a timer to keep me on task. There's not much time left, now.

I screw the cap down, slam the bonnet, then crawl behind the wheel and turn the key. The willing little engine fires up, as ever. I give the brake pedal a few trial squeezes. It's still spongy. Very spongy, in fact. And deeply reluctant to return to the top position. My suspicions deepen.

I turn KAZ around and back her down the drive again. Hitting the paved section, I try the brake pedal and it still feels sluggish - possibly even worse than it did on Saturday. It doesn't improve with more pumping. What does happen, each time, is a kind of wheezing, honking noise comes from the same general area as the brake fluid reservoir and master cylinder, behind the dash. It sounds uncannily like a chinchilla farting discreetly into an empty Smarties tube.

There appears to be no two ways about it, folks - the brake master cylinder is indeed entirely, 100%, incontrovertibly, indisputably fucked.

Fuck.

Whether my earlier ineptitude with the Easy-Bleed kit caused an internal seal to blow under too-high pressure, or something untoward occurred unseen and unknown in the depths of a freezing winter, I really don't know. But horrific rust and floaty bits in discoloured brake fluid is no-one's idea of a good sign.

This probably explains why the old fluid dribbled out so slowly, drip by drip, rather than the Yaris' healthy flow - the brake lines must be utterly clogged with all manner of rust and gack. So they'll all need replaced, in addition the master cylinder.

I pop the bonnet, and a closer look reveals that the brake servo does not look especially clever. This may well be more than just surface rust. So that's likely wrecked, too.

Okay, so - in theory, I could strip the master cylinder and servo out of TAZ as well as the calipers, and then get some lengths of brake pipe and a flaring kit, and teach myself how to bend and form it, and... and... ah, fuck it.

I look at all the scab that's fallen off it in the past 24 hours.

I gaze in weary wonder at the rusted top mounts on the suspension towers, and imagine the MOT lad's face.

 

There's a ping, as something breaks within me.

And then the ladybird timer rings.

That's it. We're out of time.

 

Yes, I could do all these things, but who am I kidding? My skills are pitiful. My tools are basic. My knowledge scanty. I could spend the next fortnight lying on sharp gravel by torchlight, skinning my knuckles, straining my relationships, darkening my mood. And all for... a battered car that's long since exceeded its life expectancy and is worth nothing, that may not even pass an MOT based on corrosion, and that could very well immediately blow something else critical even if it did pass. No. I can't be at that. I just can't.

So it's with a heavy, heavy heart that I head into the house and make the pronouncement. Mrs DC bears up remarkably well to this devastating* news. She's a real trouper.

Then I make my Chris Farlowe post, and power down the laptop.

Then we head over to Victoria Park to feed some moorhens in the spring sunlight.

There's more to life than shit old cars, I know. But none of us would be on here if we didn't care, just a little.

 

One way or another, KAZ and TAZ, the terrible Gooner Twins, will be leaving at the end of this week. So I'll be carless for the first time since I was 16, which is weird.

I appreciate all the suggestions and links to classifieds, but realistically I can't afford to buy anything as a replacement right now. I've fruitlessly spent over £100 in the past few weeks trying to get these things functioning again, and I reckon I'll need to sell off some of my model collection to raise funds for something else.

 

It's okay, I'm not in stuke - I'll happily walk to the station and back (let's face it, with a belly like mine it can only be a good thing) and Mrs DC's cockroach-like Mk1 Yaris is a dependable old thing for blatting about in for activities further afield, despite its multiple battle-scars. Maybe I need a little time to breathe for a bit, and do other stuff. It's been a claustrophobia-inducing couple of weeks with these two Renners; the plan right now is to scrape together three or four hundred quid and then see what's out there.

 

For instance, this is only a mile away, at a fiver shy of four hundred notes...

https://www.gumtree.com/p/peugeot/peugeot-406/1295763594

Fear not: I daresay I'll be back.

Cheers for all the advice, assistance and encouragement - it really is most humbly appreciated.

[Split_Pin]

You can't say that you didn't try, with both cars. They have produced a fantastic thread too which won't be forgotten.

 

At this point though, I do agree with your thoughts, life is too short.

[mrbenn]

Herculean effort there, very well done. I share your tendency to get horribly to cars and it certainly doesn't make things any easier.

 

I think you've made the right choice here. Perhaps remove the splitter(s) and anything else easily stripped off that may claw you back a bit of cash to go towards the next motor?

 

A sad end, but, I think we can all agree, the right decision

[Datsuncog]

On 4/22/2018 at 3:19 PM, The Reverend Bluejeans said:

Good call. The car's fucked.

It's a ratty old Laguna with a top end engine problem. Just scrap the fucking thing because that bleed nipple WILL shear off. 

Old cars are ungrateful bastards.

The world is awash with tidy useable cars for a grand. 

Well, that's undoubtedly the voice of sanity, and I can't disagree with any of this (other than the inevitability of the nipple shearing off, but I think that's only because I'm too weak and feeble to do more than chew the shoulders a bit more).

I can't complain about KAZ; she was apparently mere hours from the crusher when I took her on four years ago. She cost me nothing and she owes me nothing. I wish I could have got her roadworthy again and passed her on, as I daresay this is probably one of the very last fully bASe Phase 1 cars left.

TAZ... mixed feelings. Provided transport. Looked quite nice. But ultimately was a source of grief and annoyance, not to mention unreliability. Too compromised and fucked-about by someone else, despite looking the part.  Excellent spares car, possibly. But for £325, I can't exactly write to Trading Standards and complain.

I know for sure I will bitterly regret scrapping both these cars, in years to come. I hate the feeling of failure that burns through me when I have to let an unfixable car go. I'll wonder what the fuck was wrong with me, and why I just couldn't put the work in. But at least this thread may remain, to remind me exactly why. My car mojo has just evaporated with these two.

I can't see myself ever having a grand to drop on a car, but your point is valid. We're not living in Khartoum; there's no shortage of cheap and cheerless wrecks around. According to Gumtree, nearly 400 cars in the sub-£500 category within a 50 mile radius...

 

On 4/22/2018 at 4:02 PM, GrumpiusMaximus said:

Buy the Focus. You’ll spend more on the Gooner. I know you like them and I get it but even so, it’s being a bastard.

Also, good call on the steel toe caps. I have a pair and from now on I’ll wear them when I’m working with a jack...

Yeah, it's time to call it quits. This is why I never went into medicine; I'd still be attempting chest compressions after the patient's developed rigor mortis...

Weirdly, I never took to the Focus. Dunno why, I happily* owned an Escort for years, but there's something about them I just can't gel with. Very strange, as by all accounts they're a cracking car. But something other than a Laguna should be on the cards, agreed. I've had three of the buggers in four years; I'm in danger of becoming typecast!

A job unloading artics taught me that steel toecaps are recommended if gravity is a factor in a given task. Deffo wear them! I nearly kept my trainers on, because lazy, and I'm jolly glad I didn't.

 

On 4/22/2018 at 8:34 PM, mrbenn said:

Hell fire, that's quite a sorry tale On the plus side, I think you've done rather well not to put the windows through with a tyre lever, DC.

There is the potential for another go at the bleed nipple (snug socket perhaps?) then try for an MOT and just see what it fails on, assuming it fails. However, that is very easy for me to say when I haven't been subjected to a brake fluid shower, flying wood and buggered nipples all in a single session. Don't think anyone would think any less of you for calling the scrap wagon right away, for both cars. Indeed, you've made a more than valiant effort in these endeavours.

Commiserations, brother.

I did, at one point, have a wrench raised in a fearsome and threatening manner... but that probably would have merely added a broken wrench to my woes.

If the brakes had seemed even vaguely positive I would have gone the MOT route, but KAZ is essentially brakeless and hence undriveable. I wouldn't know where to start in replacing a master cylinder and servo, especially not using cannibalised secondhand parts (which I would probably break in attempting to remove from TAZ).

Commiserations appreciated! I'll take whatever scraps of comfort are available right now.

 

On 4/22/2018 at 10:22 PM, They_all_do_that_sir said:

Would the calipers from the other one fit, or are they different as well?

To be honest by the time you sort the bodywork and do all the other bits and bobs to bring it back to a decent standard you probably could have bought a better one to begin with.

I feel your pain as it's a properly early base one but life is far too short.

I sold my XM because it gradually dawned on me getting it where I wanted would swallow all my spare time and cash. Yes I failed autoshite replacing it with a semi modern but it won't stop me buying a stupid old second car at some point in the future.

There's plenty of interesting reliable future shite chod out there for what you'll spend making this one nice methinks

Yeah, you're right. As demonstrated upthread, I could get another Laguna in decent fettle without breaking the £500 barrier - and it's going to cost at least this much to basically end up back where I started again.

Sounds like your XM fell into this category too - sometimes only a new owner full of enthusiasm can get all the tedious jobs done that the previous owner couldn't justify on cost/time grounds.

The failure thing does rankle, and I do feel like I've failed both cars (one at a time I can just about manage, but this is a double whammy). But I'm trying to think positively.

I would quite like a Citroen AX before their prices become nuts. While I like big wafty cars well enough, I do get a hankering for small frantic sub-1 litre hatchbacks every now and again... maybe I should focus on that, once I'm past the grieving stage. I wish I could be like Cavcraft and RBJ and give ne'er a second's pause when throwing some old lump off at the recycler's, but that's not me...

 

On 4/23/2018 at 6:49 AM, Split_Pin said:

You can't say that you didn't try, with both cars. They have produced a fantastic thread too which won't be forgotten.

At this point though, I do agree with your thoughts, life is too short.

Cheers dude. I think I need to be nice to Mrs DC for a bit, take her out somewhere nice for a meal - that sort of thing. This month has been a bad one, and it's almost entirely Renner-related. Life is indeed too short.

 

On 4/23/2018 at 9:43 AM, mrbenn said:

Herculean effort there, very well done. I share your tendency to get horribly to cars and it certainly doesn't make things any easier.

I think you've made the right choice here. Perhaps remove the splitter(s) and anything else easily stripped off that may claw you back a bit of cash to go towards the next motor?

A sad end, but, I think we can all agree, the right decision

Yeah, I'm planning on listing them both as projects on Northern Retros this week, £100 each, spares or repairs. If they don't sell by the weekend, then I'll strip anything saleable (like the splitter) and call the yard to come and collect them both.

I did think about fully stripping both of them for lights, clocks, interior etc and try to sell the bits, but that will be even more time-consuming and frustrating, plus I'll have to store them and deal with online sellers. That's just inviting yet more pain. Nope, can't be dealing with that.

Hard decisions, but ultimately I think I've taken this Phase 1 Laguna adventure as far as I can manage. Other heroes may be able to fix them - but I'm on empty here.

Cheers for the comments!

[beko1987]

Yep, I think you've come to the end of your chapter with Laguna's! I felt bad throwing my blue one away but it was the right thing to do. Having tried replacing calipers and stuff before, it either goes fine or terribly. My green ZX just squeaked through when the mangled brake pipe union just nipped up enough to stop dripping with mole grips...20 minutes before I was swearing at it and hitting it.

 

Screwdriver through the tank and get the fuel out and lob it in the Yaris, take your nice radio out that you've only just fitted, save the front splitter for whatever value it seems to have and call the yard, you'll get a nice chunk of money towards the next terrible chod you get! You could even treat yourself when the hi-ab is en route and throw bricks at it in some sort of therapy, get it all out of your system. Hammer every panel, smash every window, maybe even set it on fire a bit.

 

Then keep writing about it.

[Split_Pin]

No matter the outcome, this is thread of the year!

[Datsuncog]

Here, what happened to RBJ's Lou Bega-esque parody, 'Laguna No.2', posted circa 1pm yesterday?

Removed?

Or was it the heady fumes from the DOT 4 making me hallucinate that it ever existed?

Either way, I thought it was pretty amusing...

[320touring]

Take a look at Supernaut's 320i thread for what a new owner can achieve with a car that has ostensibly barked it's last:)

 

I had had enough of that e36

 

No shame in exiting when it stops being fun - hobbies that make you grumpy are not any good.

 

Start a suggestion thread for finding a replacement when you can.

Give Autoshite all your criteria e.g.

 

Name must be devisible by 7

 

Avoid Tuesday and Friday built cars

 

Capacity must be a square number

 

Etc etc.

 

No doubt we can come up with something to suit!

[The Moog]

Then give 320touring your mobile number ... he is a auto bloodhound but more persistent 

[320touring]

Oi! I resemble that remark;)

 

TTT Motah finding and delivery soluthunz is available

[Split_Pin]

^^ WOULD RECOMMEND

[Jams]

Give us your budget and a radius and a run down of what you would like.

[SierraMikeHotel]

I've enjoyed the writing so much that I want to contribute something... If the distance is a problem I'm sure we could manage a shiters relay? So if the ideal car turned up here, I'd be willing to drive it somewhere nearer to a ferry port and get the train home, for example.

 

DC, I feel a bit guilty at snorting with laughter... We've all been there and you've done the right thing in giving up on both cars. It's a hard decision but when they're causing you more pain than pleasure it's time to part ways.

[Jams]

Like wise im just over an hour away from hollyhead and 25 from liverpool

[Datsuncog]

So this happened.

So all of a sudden there's a flurry of messages, including one from a familiar name (as well as the supportive comment from KAZ's previous owner, the erstwhile R9UKE of this parish).

Bloody hell. That went quickly.

Turns out this bloke bought a framed DeLorean press photograph off Gumtree from me about two years ago, and commented favourably on KAZ when he came to collect it.

Well, he says he wants KAZ and TAZ, and is coming down tonight with the cash to seal the deal. £200 for the pair.

I know I could probably turn more coin by taking bits off and selling them separately, like the splitter, but in all honesty I just want the pair of them gone and am prepared to effectively pay for that hassle to be taken off me.

As someone I've dealt with previously, I know he's capable of turning up when he says he will, with the agreed amount of cash, and departing without being a pain in the arse. A trusted buyer in the hand is worth at least forty speculative "80 2nite m8" armchair phone-scrollers in the bush, in my view.

So there we are. Surprisingly - indeed almost suspiciously - straightforward. Updates to follow.

I need to run home now and empty all my tools and old pairs of boxers useful rags from out the back of both of them.

[Pillock]

Fuuuuck. That was quick!

 

I reckon you've got the right balance between trying as best you could, and not infuriating your beloved. Doesn't matter how many cars you've got on the drive if words like "sofabed" and "divorce proceedings" are being uttered.

 

I look forward to seeing what unsuitable transport you sneak past her with what £200 - £chinesetakeaway - £bottleofwine leaves you.

[Split_Pin]

Sounds like a painfree result awaits. I loom forward to your next purchase and write up!