April 12,1981. Columbia’s first launch.  I was 7 years old at the time.  My family had been planning a trip to Tampa, FL, to visit my grandparents for quite some time.  April 12 was not the original scheduled date of the launch.  There had been many, many delays.  This should be expected with a brand new spacecraft, especially one as sophisticated as the Shuttle, not to mention different from any other spacecraft ever launched before.  We were driving from Massachusetts to Florida, in my dad’s 1976 Pontiac Grand LeMans – a car far less sophisticated than the Shuttle.  As such, we were making better time getting to Florida than the Shuttle was getting to orbit.  In fact, if the flight got delayed much more, we would actually be in Florida at the time of the launch. So, of course, we would’ve gone to see it. I may have only been 7, but I was already a total space nerd, and this truly was a historic event. Unfortunately for me, we were to arrive in Florida on April 13, and the Shuttle did not experience that final launch delay.  We watched Columbia blast into the sky from our hotel room in South Carolina.

As the Shuttle program grew up, so did I.  Challenger joined the fleet.  I remember one clear summer night in 1985 when the nightly news weather report also mentioned that Challenger would be visible flying overhead at a particular time.  We all went outside at that particular time, and sure enough, right where they said (since when are weathermen RIGHT?) there was a bright dot moving steadily across the sky.  My dad handed me his binoculars, and through them the dot took on a new shape – that of a Space Shuttle fuselage and tail.  The pass lasted for only 6 or 7 minutes, but the experience of seeing an actual Shuttle in actual orbit is permanently etched into my brain.

Though we missed Columbia’s launch, we did visit Kennedy Space Center during a later trip.  I was still quite young at the time, and didn’t appreciate the significance of all the history there much beyond “Wow, cool space stuff!”  But many things did stick with me.  Seeing Launch Pads 39A and 39B, where the Shuttle as well as the Apollo missions were launched.  Standing next to one of the crawler-transporters that drove the Shuttle (and previously Saturn rockets) from the Vehicle Assembly Building three to four miles out to the launch pads.  Getting out of the tour bus and walking around the 2.9 mile long runway where the Shuttle would land.  At the time we visited, it had not yet been used, which places my visit sometime before 1984. (I think NASA should rent it out as an epic autocross site, now that it’s not being used for Shuttle landings anymore.) And, though not directly related to the Shuttle, my dad took a photo of me holding the hand of someone inside an Apollo spacesuit.  We couldn’t see who because the gold sun shield was down over the face, which added to the mystique.

One January morning in 1986 I was in my middle school science class. As usual, we were watching some science show – 3-2-1 Contact or something like that. The phone rang, and the teacher answered it.  A few minutes later he began writing on the chalkboard as the show continued to play.  The Space Shuttle Challenger had launched.  73 seconds later, it blew up.  I kept looking at the words “blew up,” and I laughed, because it had to be a joke. America had never, ever lost astronauts in flight. Space Shuttles simply don’t do that.  …do they?  Come to find out, it was no joke.  It was real.  Seven astronauts died that day, including Christa McAuliffe, America’s first teacher in space.  Though my school really hadn’t been talking about the space program much, despite a teacher flying into space with many local ties – she grew up and went to college in nearby Framingham, MA, where I was born, and taught in Concord, NH, not far away – we were certainly talking about it now. Like many people, I was devastated. In addition to the actual loss of Challenger and the crew, we had also lost our innocence.  We were no longer invulnerable.  Sure, I was aware of the Apollo 1 fire, the only other occasion where astronauts had died in a spacecraft.  But that happened before I was born. I only knew about it from books and TV documentaries.  This was far more real to me.  I had just turned 12 a month before, and would soon start to do a lot of growing up myself.

Two years later, the Shuttle was flying again, with redesigned Solid Rocket Boosters and more care taken not to launch in as cold conditions as Challenger did.  I don’t remember what year it was, but once again the Shuttle flew overhead one dark, clear night.  It was Columbia this time, and through the binoculars I could even make out its unique tail profile, different from the other Shuttles due to the unique pod that was added to it.

I did more than make visual contact with Shuttles over the years. I got my ham radio license in 1989. Many astronauts are also hams, and some began to bring radio equipment with them on Shuttle flights. I never made a confirmed contact with the Shuttle (though I did with the Mir space station – for real, I’m not joking), I did hear it.  Both on voice, as well as packet, a digital mode involving a special kind of modem connected to a radio instead of a phone line.  One night I knew there would be a Shuttle pass sometime in the wee hours, and I left my station monitoring the frequency they used to see if I could hear it.  Sure enough, when I woke up in the morning my computer had recorded some activity on the frequency from the Shuttle.  Their equipment also included a bulletin board system (remember those?)  At one point I think I did manage to “connect” to the Shuttle (my station and theirs were prepared to exchange data), but because everybody and their mother was trying to do the same thing, I was never able to actually leave a short message saying hello.

Moving on to college.  There were many ham radio operators on the Mt. Greylock repeater who were also space nuts.  There was one particular nighttime launch that would send Atlantis on a more northern trajectory than usual, and, as a result, would be visible to us in western Massachusetts.  Someone was retransmitting the Shuttle-to-ground communications for us all to hear exactly when Atlantis launched.  At that moment, I left my dorm room, walked across the quad, and stood in front of the library, looking to the west.  I got a couple of funny looks from passers by, as I had my handheld radio with me and was staring at the sky.  I told them what was happening, and a few stopped to watch.  In just a few minutes, Atlantis had covered the 1500 miles that took my family 3 days to drive, and a bright orange line began to draw itself across the night sky.  I’d never seen anything streaking across the sky so fast.  Though orbital velocity is actually faster, Atlantis appeared to be moving faster because it was much lower and not into orbit yet.  Less than a minute later, it was gone.  The image of a bright orange streak blazing across the night sky is another one permanently burned into my brain.

Later on I joined some of that same group of radio nuts on a visit to the Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, MD.  We took the standard tour of the facility, the one that’s open to the public, which was pretty neat.  Then, thanks to arrangements with the Goddard Amateur Radio Club, our group went on a special private tour.  There was one stop, which was a very unimpressive looking office trailer, the type you can find at any construction site.  Inside, however, lived a station known to hams and shortwave listeners worldwide as WA3NAN, which retransmits Shuttle-to-ground communications constantly during any Shuttle flight.  This station is the sole exception the FCC makes to its prohibition of broadcasting on the amateur radio bands. It is entirely automated, yet legally there has to be a control operator present, basically to flip the switch off if anything goes wrong. Each of us got to take a turn sitting at the controls and serving as WA3NAN’s control operator for a time. It was a purely symbolic role, as none of us had to actually do anything, but it was still very cool. I had listened to WA3NAN before I even got my ham license, and it was neat to literally sit at the other end of that contact later on.

I moved on to other interests after school, and didn’t pay as close attention to what was going on in space.  But I do remember being in a store with someone I was dating, walking by the rows and rows of TVs in the electronics section, and all of them showing a blue sky with numerous bright shiny pieces streaking across it.  That was Columbia, breaking up during re-entry.  I decided then that I shouldn’t be allowed to see any more Space Shuttles.  Two of the three I’d seen have since been destroyed.  I was sad for Columbia and the crew, but my life was bogged down with the mundane business of making a living in the real world, and wasn’t as interested in space. Perhaps many felt the same way, which is how America’s manned space program came to be the way it is today.

Recently, with the publicity coming with the final flight of each of the remaining three spaceworthy Shuttles, I, like many, began taking a renewed interest in the Shuttle.  Flights had become commonplace, which was the partially fulfulled dream of the Shuttle program.  I say “partially” because it has fallen short of the intended 100 flights per Shuttle, with launches every 2-3 weeks.  Limited budgets and real life have a way of interfering with dreams, in space travel as well as the rest of life.  I began watching launches again – amazingly sharp, high-def shots from numerous cameras mounted around and on the Shuttle itself, rather than the washed out videotape of the first 1981 launch.  I loved seeing the new angles from the SRBs and tank, designed to see detached debris and avoid a repeat of the Columbia disaster, but also showing some awesome shots.  I stick my camera all over the car during autocross runs and shared it with the world, and now NASA has done exactly the same thing.  The only difference is that my vehicle is a bit less expensive, and is less likely to re-enter the atmosphere from orbit.

This past January, Pam and I combined a trip to visit her brother with a trip to the Smithsonian’s Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, VA.  Some may know this place as where they found Jetfire in Transformers 2, and indeed there is an SR-71 Blackbird on display there.  This was one of the main attractions for me.  The other was in the space area, where the centerpiece is the Space Shuttle Enterprise, used for the approach and landing tests to prove the concept that a spacecraft could glide and land like an airplane.  Although this was the fourth Shuttle I’ve seen, I was able to get a little bit closer than the other three.

Though Enterprise never flew in space, that didn’t detract from how awesome it was to see.  Though I was just a bit too young to be aware of the approach and landing tests when they happened in the late 1970s, Enterprise, and the Shuttle program in general, represent the American space program that I grew up with.  Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, and Skylab were excellent achievements, but I wasn’t around for all but Skylab, and all I remember of it was the news reports about it falling out of orbit.  The Space Shuttle has been the backbone of America’s manned space program for over half the time Americans have been flying in space.  For me, and likely many others who, like me, are too young to remember the space programs of the 1960s, the Space Shuttle is the American manned space flight program.

And now, it’s all over.  Atlantis has landed at KSC, where it will remain as a museum piece.  Discovery is slated to replace Enterprise at the Udvar-Hazy center.  Enterprise will move closer to my home, the Intrepid Sea-Air-Space Museum in New York City. And Endeavor will go to the California Science Center.  Having already seen four of the six Shuttles, I’m thinking about seeing the rest someday.  Udvar-Hazy is well worth a return trip regardless of which Shuttle is there, and Discovery was the real workhorse of the Shuttle fleet.  Kennedy Space Center is also worth a return visit, since I was no more than 10 years old the last time I was there and would likely appreciate it more.  I’ll be sure to plan that trip for sometime after Atlantis goes on display.  I’m not sure if I’ll get to Los Angeles to see Endeavour, but if I do end up out there once Endeavour is on display, I will certainly make it a point to visit.

With the Constellation program canceled, for the first time NASA no longer has its own means to launch people into space.  We’ll be hitching rides with the Russians, and encouraging corporations to design and build launch vehicles, rather than the military or the government.  But the prime motivation of corporations is profit, not ideals.  It was the ideal of “let’s explore the solar system” that sent probes to all the planets, plus some moons, comets, and even asteroids.  Though more of a motivator was he ideal of “let’s show the Soviet Union who’s boss” that drove much of the early space program.  A corporation’s ideal of “let’s make a boatload of money” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.  Somehow I don’t see these new corporate rockets capturing our imagination the way the Shuttle did.  I could be wrong, and I hope I am.

Meanwhile, I’ll just wish that like the Shuttle I grew up with  I could retire at age 30, date myself, and feel like an old codger as I hang onto the nostalgia of those old 1970s technology galactic pickup trucks ferrying cargo back and forth between Earth and space.  Now get off my lawn.

I’m settling into Massachusetts pretty well so far. I have found some work, but it’s short term and temporary. I can’t quite justify the expense of racing, even relatively affordable autocross, until I have a more long term employment arrangement. I miss it, but my life has other priorities right now.

In my various internet travels, I’ve come across iRacing from time to time. I’ve always been a fan of racing games, back to the original Pole Position. They’ve come a long way since, as a winter spent working, sleeping, and playing Gran Turismo 3 (or was it 4?) showed me.  That also showed me how I can get completely sucked into such games, which is mainly why I tend to stay away from them.

Recently it came to my attention that iRacing is physically based in Bedford, Mass. That’s within a commutable distance of my new home. I looked up the web site, and no, they don’t have any job postings, though they do have an e-mail address for submissions. They also have a deal going at the moment where you can buy a one month subscription for $12 and get 2 months free.  So I figured that for half the cost of an autocross event, I’d sign up and give it a try – strictly in the interest of researching the product of a company I may want to work for, of course. (Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.)

As I tend not to play a lot of computer games, I don’t have the fancy steering wheel and pedal setup, just a basic Xbox-like controller. No big deal – it’ll be good enough for me to check it out. So I got on and downloaded all the updates. There are oval tracks and road courses available, the latter of which appeal to me more. In fact, one of the race series they’re running features the MX-5 Cup (or Roadster – only difference being left-hand or right-hand drive) at Lime Rock Park. I was thrilled to see this, because I’ve driven a real Miata at the real Lime Rock Park a few times, so I could easily compare the virtual MX-5 and track to the genuine articles.

And that was the last time I will refer to iRacing as a game. It’s a simulator. This isn’t some crash ‘em up arcade game like the Burnout series (which I also enjoy – after fighting off idiotic Massachusetts drivers it can be very satisfying to cause the largest, most expensive possible crash scene). Everyone takes this pretty seriously, and you don’t see people out there intentionally ramming other cars or driving the wrong way around the track for fun. The behavior here is better than I’ve seen at the most serious indoor karting places, and that’s no slam because they’re usually rather good about cracking down on that sort of thing. That’s one aspect. Another is the graphics. They’re excellent, even when relatively low-res to enhance speed on my recent but not super fast PC. It’s smooth, fast, and detailed. The track is just like I remember it – the concrete patches through Big Bend and the Esses, the curbs and rumble strips, even that extra bump in the Downhill that you only really feel if you’re going 100mph or more.  And it is bumpy through the Downhill. Some of the curbs are smooth if you drive over them, and others bounce you around and upset the car. Just like the real track.

Which leads to my final point – driving realism. Yeah, it’s got it. Big time. My biggest difficulty is adjusting to the limited controls I have available. The analog stick is very twitchy, which makes it hard to stay on the track, and very challenging with traffic around me. That’s a limitation of my equipment, not the game, which I’ve adjusted as best I can to reduce sensitivity while still allowing me the full range of steering I need. Sure, the Miata/MX-5 has evolved a bit from the original 1990 model I drove on the track to the latest MX-5 represented here. And my Miata only had the most basic of modifications (Koni shocks, grippier tires, and a roll bar with harnesses), as opposed to the MX-5 Cup, which is a full on race car. But after getting somewhat used to the different controls and a few practice laps, it came back to me. What worked on the real track works in the simulation. Best of all – at least in practice, where offs and crashes don’t count against your “permanent record” – I can try new things, delay my braking, carry a little more speed into the turn, and if I mess up, I haven’t smashed up my beautiful Miata (not to mention myself). Sometimes you just slide off into the grass. Other times you can hit walls or other cars. You take damage appropriate to how hard you hit, and sometimes it makes the car impossible to drive. One time, when I didn’t quite straighten out the car before it became light at the top of the uphill, I spun, hit the wall, and lost count of how many times I rolled. (Gran Turismo didn’t let me roll.) The replay was quite spectacular – I wish I’d thought to try and figure out how to save it. And I understood exactly why things had gone so badly, because that’s how the real Uphill works. I’ve helped piece together a BMW M3 that made the same mistake and kissed the wall, though fortunately without the rollover.

As with any hobby, it’s possible to spend lots of money on it, even if it doesn’t take much to get started. I could invest a few hundred bucks into an awesome steering wheel and pedal setup, complete with a clutch pedal and manual shifter. I could spend lots of money on the game, buying additional tracks and cars (that’s one way they get you – and admittedly New Hampshire Motor Speedway may tempt me, as it’s another track I’ve actually driven). Even if I did all that, it would still cost less than the set of tires I’ll need to resume autocrossing, never mind the upgraded shocks and springs I’d like to add someday. And that’s something.

It’s not the real thing – no simulation (yet) can give you the sensation of actual movement, speed, and G-forces. Even the F-4 Phantom II simulator I flew at the Udvar-Hazy Center didn’t, even though it tilted and rolled me upside down half the time I was fighting enemy MiGs. But it’s pretty darn good, and more importantly it pushes enough of the right buttons in my brain to engage my real life experience and apply it to the game – and it works.

Oh, right – this is employment research, not gaming. Yeah. So. I need some more practice to improve my driving record a bit – both my safety rating (I’ve had a few shunts during races) as well as my race results. I don’t want to look like a total hack if I apply to work for them…

I’ve just relocated from Maine to Massachusetts to seek better career opportunities.  (It’s not like this blog pays me anything.  Of course, if you’d like to pay me to blog, I’d probably write more.)  Currently, I have a rusty Nissan Sentra SE-R, and half a Miata.  The other half belongs to my girlfriend.  The SE-R is a great car.  It’s probably the only car that I have not felt any need to modify in any way, because it’s so awesome stock.  The problem is, it’s rusting out.  There aren’t any holes through the body yet, but a great deal of area around the rocker panels has turned rust colored instead of white.  In fact, it’s happening everywhere the previous owner said he’d done some bodywork and rust patching.  Kudos to him for his honesty, but unfortunately he didn’t eliminate the rust.  He just slowed it down a bit.  The car just passed a Maine inspection in March, but that doesn’t take much.  Massachusetts inspections, despite the SE-R being too old for emissions testing, would likely take a much closer look at it – especially because it is visibly rusting.

The Miata, though it has some body issues of its own, I have no doubt that it would pass here.  It, like my first Miata, has been extremely reliable, despite seeing frequent autocross use for the past two years.  The thing is, I’ve converted my girlfriend.  While she likes her nimble Civics and CRXs, she’s turned to the dark side of rear wheel drive.  She doesn’t want to give up our Miata to me.  And I, having already given up half a Miata I co-owned when I moved to Maine, don’t want to lose half a Miata again.  It’s been the biggest sticking point of my relocation plan.

So what’s the answer?  Two Miatas!  It turns out a friend of ours in the Cumberland Motor Club picked up a Honda S2000 last year to replace his 93 Miata, and he’s looking to sell the Miata.  In fact, it’s the same guy we got our hardtop from.  It’s in great shape – better than ours – and I know it’s been well maintained, and upgraded in a few ways.  So, in the end, my girlfriend will end up buying out my half of our Miata and it will become entirely hers.  I’ll sell the SE-R – in Maine, where its inspection is good for almost another full year, and that’s worth a lot to someone looking for a good cheap car.  And I’ll put the proceeds from both into acquiring the 93 Miata.  It’ll be my third Miata.  In fact, it’ll be my third red Miata.  And yes, I’m doing it wrong by skipping the 1992 model year entirely, despite the fact that the special edition that year was Sunburst Yellow, a color I’m particularly fond of despite being only the second fastest color – second to red, of course.

How will I get by with a Miata as my only car?  It’s not like I’ve moved to Florida.  Well, simple, really.  For one thing, studded snow tires.  I ran a great set on the SE-R last winter, and didn’t put many miles on since I drove my work vehicle so much.  For another, I hope to acquire the other half of the hardtop for myself, reuniting it with the car it’s been used on for a few years.  I won’t have a garage to park in, and she does.  And for another, much to my surprise I’ve found there’s a pickup truck available for my use on an extremely affordable basis.  If I do need to transport any large items that can’t possibly fit in/on/around a Miata, I’m covered.

Everybody wins.

I first met the Iceman at the first autocross events I ever attended, with Boston BMW CCA at Rockingham Park in the late 1990s.  I got to know him better with the Ice Races, particularly while serving as Editor of the Bimmer, the chapter newsletter.  He always gave a great driver’s meeting, emphasizing safety and that this was an educational event, not an excuse for shenanigans on the ice.  He had a great attitude, and it carried over to the entire event.  He was kind and supportive, and when he gave you a compliment or congratulated you on winning a trophy at our post event gathering at the pizza joint, you could tell he genuinely meant it.  That goes double for the time I won class X (all wheel drive, all-season tires) in my AWD Grand Caravan.

And boy, could that man drive.  I once had the pleasure of hopping into his Subaru Forester for one of his competitive runs around the main course.  I’d been competing for several years at this point, and drove well enough to earn a trophy or two.  It was because of this experience that I could fully appreciate just how far beyond my own abilities the Iceman’s were.  Time and time again, throughout the run, the moment I began to notice the car just beginning to slide in an undesirable way, he had already corrected for it.  He was fast, but not overly aggressive.  He knew when he had to go slow in the slow places, and he knew just how long he could maintain maximum speed before slowing down for them at the last possible second.  He was one of the best drivers I’ve ever ridden with.  On top of that, he was over 70 years old at the time.  The Iceman is the top reason why I am opposed to arbitrary age limits to driver’s licenses.  He was a better driver than 99% of the other people on the road.

I also worked with him and the other Jacksons on the event staff for many years.  Whether it was obtaining photos and articles for the Bimmer (which was quite easy while I happened to be editor), working a corner station, or setting up and coordinating the practice course, it has always been a pleasure to work with them.  Two years ago, the last practice course I designed was based entirely on the Iceman’s suggestion.  Due to very cold weather and no snow, ice conditions were excellent, and we had a large area to play with.  His suggestion was rather than our usual practice course of a short circuit, create a point-to-point course, somewhat like a rally stage, since we had the room to do it.  I followed his suggestion, and it worked beautifully.  There was rarely much waiting in line, and a car could start every minute or so.  There was far more seat time to be had on that practice course than the competition course.

You can see it here (the course marked in yellow cones), in my favorite of the Ice Racing videos I’ve made, along with some RT4WD Civic wagon hoonage:

So long, Iceman. No doubt you’re giving great drivers like Henri Toivonen a run for their money on The Great Ice Course In The Sky.

I’ve been running Falken Azenis RT-615s for the past several years.  Even running in open stock class, they were the best compromise between performance and my rather low budget, and I was still able to win my class somewhat regularly.  My girlfriend, too (though she’s quick to admit that her first place finish was against a 1974 TVR 2500M and a 1960s Morgan Plus 4, whose designs and tires are somewhat dated compared to the Miata).

These Bridgestone RE11s feel like streetable R-compounds compared to the old Azenis.  It’s no wonder Falken had to upgrade their compound to keep up with the Joneses.  I have no idea what the limits of these tires are, because to reach them in street driving I’d have to be incredibly brave or stupid, and I am neither.  But I’m looking forward to trying them out on an autocross course.

This picture is also outdated now.  We took the hardtop off yesterday.  If anything is going to cause it to snow again, that would do it.

And then, of course, it snowed again.

I should expect this.  It’s Maine.  It’s March.  The calendar saying that it is now spring means nothing.  Some people say they like New England because we have four seasons, unlike more temperate climates that don’t see snow.  I say bull.  First, we get winter.  Then we get extended winter, which is the phase we’re in right now – technically spring, but still cold with a possibility for snow at any time.  In fact, though there was no additional accumulation, there was snow in the air almost every day last week.  Once the temperature does warm up, we get a few weeks of mud season, which I suppose is what passes for spring around here.  Then suddenly, one day, the monkey flips the switch, and it’s 90 degrees with 90% humidity.  Sometime around late August or early September, it begins to cool off, the leaves start to change, and we have fall.  This then leads back into 5-6 months of winter again.

The hardtop is definitely staying on the Miata a while longer yet.  And the snow tires are staying on the Sentra.  Removing them mid-April will probably cause yet another snowstorm, as it usually does.  It’ll get there, though.  It’s just frustrating to be teased by a warm snap, then plunged back into the deep freeze.

The Miata needs nothing. It’s so reliable, and since it’s our primary autocross car it’s also the one that gets driven the hardest.  Still, we only put about 7,000 miles on it last year, as I realized when I renewed the registration a week ago.  I helped take the hardtop off temporarily during one of those record warm days so that Pam could take the first top-down drive of the year.  Unfortunately the brakes weren’t working as well as she liked, so she only went around the block.  They just needed to be worked a bit, though – I took a longer drive that evening, and the brakes woke right up after a bit of use.  I do have a set of Mazdaspeed MX-5 springs to swap on, which shouldn’t be a big  job since the shocks were replaced less than a year ago and haven’t had 19 years to seize up like the old ones did.

The Sentra passed inspection thanks to the exhaust work I had done.  So much for their $1000 estimate for necessary repairs to pass.  Rust is coming through the paint in many places, so it’ll probably get some downtime for patching and painting during the summer.  It’s a great car, yet I fear it’s only a matter of time before it’s too rusty to stay on the road.  That’s too bad – it’s a great car.  It’s also a great winter vehicle, which doesn’t help the rust situation, I’m sure.  I’ll be leaving the studded tires on until there’s little risk of encountering snow or ice on the roads.  Then it’ll get its all-seasons back from the Miata, which, in turn, will get the nice almost new RE-11s we picked up along with the springs.

The motorcycles are getting their spring prep.  The Savage should need just its battery reinstalled and it’ll be fine.  The Silverwing still needs a carb float bowl gasket replaced.  I ordered a pair of replacement mirrors, since one broke and I don’t know how long the other will last.  And, in a fit of geekery, I successfully mounted a ham radio antenna on it.  No radio yet, but now that I know the antenna will work the rest of the job will be easy.  I have a headset for my helmet, so the only other wiring needed is for power, and technically I could run the handheld radio off its own battery anyway.

There is a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel of winter.  And it isn’t an oncoming train.  More like a supermoon (which was about as bright as oncoming headlights last night – really, it was that bright!)

OK, OK, I’ll stop demolishing Shakespeare and revert to my own ramblings.  The question remains valid, though. When faced with a repair, is it worth the sometimes high cost of paying a professional to fix it for you? Or are you better off tackling the problem yourself and sometimes saving a great deal of money in the process?  My definitive answer to this question is, “It depends.”

Some cases are very clear cut.  If you don’t know a wrench from screwdriver, or an engine cylinder from a wheel cylinder, then slowly step away from the vehicle and keep your hands where I can see them. If you have no idea what you’re doing – or worse, you think you know what you’re doing but really don’t – then you can do a lot more harm than good by tackling a job yourself.  It’s likely that you’ll only waste your time, make the problem worse, and have to spend even more money at the shop to fix the damage you did as well as the original problem.

If you are somewhat mechanically inclined, it’s a simple job, and you don’t mind spending a little time tackling it yourself, then by all means go for it.  I do most of the oil changes on our fleet myself.  That way I know it’s done right.  I’ve had shops neglect to put my oil cap back on before, and may even have a situation I’m dealing with now where the oil didn’t even get changed. More on that some other time.

My first experience working on a car myself was when I was in college.  The brakes on my 1982 Pontiac 6000LE were grinding, yet as a poor student I couldn’t afford to take it to a shop to get fixed.  One of my local friends on the ham radio told me we could do the job ourselves, and all I’d have to pay for is the parts.  Despite my dad’s objections, that’s exactly what we did – well, really, he did the work while I watched and learned.  It was a whole lot simpler than I’d thought. Remove the wheel, remove two bolts to get the caliper off, remove the pads, two more bolts to get the caliper bracket off, remove the rotor.  Installation is the opposite of removal (one of the few cases where that infamous phrase from the Haynes repair manuals was actually true).  The repair was done at a fraction of the cost a shop would’ve charged, plus I’d learned exactly how my front brakes work. Since then I’ve done many disc brake jobs on many vehicles. Some of them I’ve driven in autocross or on road courses afterward. Best of all, I’m still alive, which means I did the job right.

Some of the money I save by doing my own work I use to, as the Grassroots Motorsports forum calls it, “maintainify” the car.  “Maintainify” is a combination of the words “maintain” and “modify,” and means exactly that.  When my stock front brake pads wear out, I typically replace them with a more aggressive, performance oriented compound (Hawk HPS is one of my favorites). So rather than pay a shop to do the work, I do it myself, get better parts, and STILL save money.  Quite a win-win situation.

It doesn’t always go that way.  My Saturn SW2′s rear brakes were worn out, so I decided to do the job myself.  They were rear discs, so I figured, how hard could it be?  Normally, an easy job.  As I tried to remove or replace one part, it broke. So I had to replace it. The next part broke as I tried to replace it. I ended up damaging the perfectly good brake line hose, and bought a replacement.  When I tried to remove it from the steel line, the steel line broke. At that point, I gave up and had the car towed to a local trusted shop to finish the job for me.  I felt inadequate, but later I felt a little better when the guy told me that he, too, had broken part of the brake line (and replaced it) and had fought as much rust as I did in doing the job.

When I replaced the Miata’s original shocks with Koni STR.Ts, I also encountered rust issues.  I managed to remove and replace the rears myself.  but when it came to the fronts, I couldn’t get them to budge.  Again, just too much corrosion for me to work through with the tools I have.  I took it to the same shop to have the fronts alone replaced.

Most recently, my Sentra SE-R sprung an exhaust leak in the flex pipe. Inspection is coming up next month, so I knew that had to be fixed – oh, plus that small matter of exhaust fumes getting inside the car. I hate exhaust work. Stuff is guaranteed to be rusted up and need to be cut apart to remove. So I farmed that out to a local Meineke that my girlfriend has had good experience with. Sure enough, they managed to replace the flex pipe and tighten up the rest of the cobbled together exhaust system for around $200.  The best price I found for a new downpipe was $180.  It’s winter, my driveway is a sheet of ice, and I have very little daylight to do repairs. So it was very much worth having the shop doing.

They also came back with a list of other problems – a leaky rear caliper, bad pads and rotors in back, plus a brake fluid replacement, serpentine belt, front suspension links…  In the end, their list of repairs totaled over $1000, which is what I paid for the car a year ago. I said do the exhaust, but hold off on the rest. I’ll check it out myself, and know I can replace the caliper for a whole lot less.  They wanted $60 to bleed the brakes!  I can do that in my driveway for the cost of brake fluid.  And that’s how they get you.

You really have to take each case as it comes. Major work, I’ll let a shop do. The last time I tried to rebuild an engine, it died 10 minutes down the road.  Simple stuff, I’ll do myself, because it’s cheaper, easier, and gives me a chance to check over the car while I’m at it.  Stuff in between, it depends.  I make each decision as it comes.  And since I’m tired of fighting rusty cars that turn a 15 minute job into 3 hours of wasted time when I can’t get the CRX’s alternator bolt off, I’m a little more likely to let a shop handle it these days.  But I still check their work.  Tomorrow I go back to the local Xpress Lube place to ask them why the Sentra’s oil is as black as it was before I took it to them a hundred miles ago…

First, updates.  There have been some changes in the fleet.  The SE-R is an awesome car.  Rusting a bit, and the downpipe has sprung a leak.  But other than that, with a set of studded snow tires, the only way it could be more awesome in the winter is if it had all wheel drive.  But with a limited slip differential driving the front wheels alone, it’s almost as good.  Really.  So, slightly less good in snow than my RT4WD Civic wagon, and a heck of a lot more fun any other time.  It was an absolute blast to run at CMC’s autocross weekend and the old Loring AFB.  Constant 2nd and 3rd gear runs, bombing around runways big enough for B-52s, with a side trip to the nuclear disarmament pad.  No joke.

The Miata’s still around.  Doing well.  Pretty much parked for the winter, and spent a couple of months buried in an icy cocoon, but still works just fine.  We scored a hardtop for it, which has been nice to have as the weather has been colder.  We also stumbled into our next set of competition tires – and wheels.  Bridgestone Potenza RE11s, barely used.  But wait, you say – those don’t come in the 14″ size needed for stock Miata wheels.  Why, you’re absolutely right – they came on 15″ wheels that will fit, and were used on a Mazdaspeed MX-5 before we got them.  But 15″ wheels aren’t legal in stock class.  Why, no, they’re not – and we’re taking the bump to STS for it.  Which led to the decision to snag the stock springs from this Mazdaspeed MX-5 and put them on our car as well.  I hope to do that sometime this spring before autocross season.  We’re not going all out with an STS build, no more than we maxed the car out for stock class.  But it will allow us a little more flexibility in “maintainifying” the car, and a much wider tire selection in the future.

The CRX is still here – and suffering multiple problems again.  The brakes are very very squishy.  New rear wheel cylinders, new master cylinder, still squishy.  The alternator let the magic smoke out.  This is a very easy replacement, especially since I did this job on my Civic wagon with lots of accessories and a rear driveshaft in the way that the CRX doesn’t have.  I’ve been cursed by one rusty bolt that refuses to release the dead alternator.  And now it’s buried in an icy cocoon.

The Highlander is… the Highlander.  No news there.

On the motorcycle front, my GS1100L is gone.  Again, multiple issues, including improper storage last winter resulting in 4 gummed up carbs.  It became a partial trade for a 1982 Honda Silverwing GL500 Interstate.  Not the cruiser I’d been planning on, but a small touring bike that’s quite comfortable.  A major downgrade in power, but I never used much of the 1100′s power anyway.  I’m looking forward to a lot of riding once the snow – and, more importantly, the crud on the roads – goes away.  I also have a complete 2 meter ham radio setup ready to install on the bike.

The Savage…  Well, the important question now is, which one?  The 1986 model is still with us.  Compression checked out at 40psi – exactly what it was when we first got it with a fragged motor.  All that time, all that work, for nothing.  Fate has brought us a deal on another Savage, this one a 2001.  Very little on the Savage has changed in the 15 years between these models, or since for that matter.  The husband of a friend of mine from high school passed away a bit over a year ago, and this was his bike.  We got a deal on it, and saved my friend the hassle of trying to sell it on the open market.  The only thing wrong with it is a small oil leak.  My girlfriend has relearned how to ride, and was just starting to venture out on the street when winter hit and put an end to the riding season last year.   The old bike will, at minimum, donate some of its perfectly good parts as backups (I’ve watched turn signals break off Savages when dropped).  Maybe we’ll sell the rest, or maybe we’ll part it out.  Not sure yet.

That brings us just about up to speed on the current fleet.  Well, unless you want to include the Ford cargo van I do nearly all my driving in these days.  I changed jobs last July and do delivery work now.  That’s a story in and of itself.  I don’t really count the van as part of my fleet, though, because it isn’t mine.

I admit, I forgot about this blog for a while, and have badly neglected it.  I hope to fix that.  I should push myself to keep posting here regularly.  I want to.  I just don’t always.  I could offer a million excuses as to why I haven’t, but they won’t change anything so I won’t bother.  I’m hoping to give this blog a jump start and get it going regularly again.  I hope I don’t read back on this post months from now, as the newest post in my blog, and kick myself yet again for not doing so.

The Saturn wagon is gone. I sold it not too long after my post about losing that loving feeling with it. Oh, and not too long after picking up a 1991 Nissan Sentra SE-R. It’s needed a little TLC, and it would benefit from a paint job. Nissan’s white paint that year seems to like separating its engagement with the primer.  But the suspension is great, the brakes are rehabilitated, and the SR20 motor under the hood is tuned up and ready to go.  No longer do I have to choose between the fun car (Miata) or that boring daily driver.  BOTH cars are fun!  In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting the SE-R out to a track day at some point.

The Miata is doing great, and just got a set of Koni STR.T shocks.  These are the bottom tier Koni shock, which isn’t a bad thing.  It’s non-adjustable, and not recommended for a tuned up performance suspension.  But for stock springs, they’re a great match.  Last Sunday I autocrossed on them for the first time, and had to learn the car all over again.  Turns out the old shocks were original, 19 years old, with 145k miles on them.  It’s common knowledge that original Miata shocks are dead at 30k. This year I’m running in a new street tire class, which is basically for anyone in any class not running race tires.  I won E Stock last year, but with little competition, so I’m running in street tire this year and placing about mid-pack.  It’s OK that I’m not winning – I’m in it for the fun.

The CRX now moves under its own power effectively. Thanks to a new club member who speaks CRX fluently, we found that the flywheels bolts had backed out, and one had jammed itself up against the friction disk, preventing the clutch from disengaging. Fixed, and now we’re working on putting an interior back in and getting it through inspection and back on the road.

The Highlander… is.  That’s about all I can say about it.  Oh, and it can tow the club’s equipment trailer with no problem.

My GS1100L is irritating me.  I haven’t ridden it at all this year.  The clutch still won’t disengage.  I can’t figure out why. And I can’t blame the CRX, because its clutch is now working perfectly. I’m baffled. I’m resisting the urge to go look at a 1983 Honda Shadow I just found on Craigslist.

The Savage is back. Engine reassembled, started, and ran.  Bike is back together.  Took it for the 20 minute ride home from its “winter” haven where it spent the last year and a half. 10 minutes in, the engine stopped. Don’t know why. Current theory is due to the low fuel level maybe it sucked up some gunk in the carb. I haven’t had time to tear into it, again.

That’s the fleet, right? Think again.

Thanks to my girlfriend’s getting into shape kick, I’ve gotten back into bicycling.  We live near the Kennebec River Rail Trail, which is a great place to ride without the worry of automotive traffic. Her bike is in front – mine is a 15 year old Raleigh M-80, which I’ve done more work on in the past month or two than in the 15 years I’ve owned it. That’s because I’ve almost never ridden it until now. I even swapped out its knobby mud tires for some fairly wussy tires that have much lower rolling resistance and make it easier to ride. That’s more important when YOU are the engine.

Don’t worry. I haven’t turned the cars and bikes into flowerpots and compost bins. I’m just adding yet another wheeled form of entertainment to my repertoire. I still like cars. I just wish I had a working motorcycle to ride.