Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
Cars: An Homage to Unreliability
I believe one of problems with today’s cars is that they are too reliable. I know it sounds strange, but stick with me for a bit.
When I was 16 years old, my father bought a 1976 Triumph Spitfire that I was allowed to use. He didn’t really buy it “for” me, he bought it for himself. If you’re not aware, British sports cars at the time were notoriously unreliable and required constant maintenance.
To give the most prominent example of this, I could be driving down the road and my engine would simply stop running. My only choice at this point was to coast safely to the side of the road and wait until it would start again. This usually took about 20 to 30 minutes. Fortunately for me, because this typically only occured after an hour or so total driving, so it rarely impacted my ability to get to school or work on time, but it also created some great opportunities for conversations with my stranded passengers. I know what some of you are thinking, that sounds dangerous. Well, it wasn’t really because so many cars were unreliable at the time, every driver understood that there was a constant risk that the car in front of you might break down, so drivers were forced to actually pay attention to the road and the cars around them.
Another trivial example is that not only did I have to check the oil in the engine, I had to check the oil in the carburetor. Yes, that’s right, not only did I have a carburetor (which no modern cars have) but it required oil to function properly.
I worked at the local hamburger drive-in as a car-hop (no skates or short skirts) for well under minimum wage (but decent tips if I showed a little cleavage), so I wasn’t able to pay a professional to fix minor things on the car. That meant I had to do everything I could myself, and back then, you could do a lot yourself. As a result, I figured out how to solve problems, figured out how things functioned, worked with tools, performed cost-benefit analyses, and perhaps, most importantly, knew when to call a professional. These are life skills that have helped me throughout my life.
One consequence of being unreliable was that the engine bay was designed to be worked on. The Triumph Spitfire had relatively long hood, a clamshell design that opened forward. This accomplished two important things, 1) it gave you a lot of room to work on everything in the engine compartment, and 2) you could see everything. I could see the distributor cap and the wires leading to the spark plugs. I could see the oil-filled carburetor leading into the intake manifold. I could see the exhaust manifold leading to the exhaust pipe. You could open the hood of that car and explain to a neophyte how the internal combustion engine worked by walking through the entire process while pointing to the actual devices. Today, you open a hood and you see a big piece of plastic with the manufacturer’s logo on it and maybe a radiator. You used to open your hood so other people could admire your engine; now you open the hood so people can admire the judicious use of logo-emblazoned plastic.
So, why does this matter? Is it just that I learned some useful skills in my youth that still benefit me? No, not really. I probably would have learned more useful skills trying to become an Eagle Scout. No, the real benefit of being forced to work on my car is that I felt connected to the car in a way that you can only be connected with something in which you have invested a lot of time.
Every time I started the engine, I knew it was the spark plugs that I had properly gapped and installed that were igniting the gasoline flowing through the carburetor that I ensured had the proper amount of oil. The battery was being recharged with the alternator I had replaced, which was being turned by the belt I had installed and tightened (and when it wasn’t being recharged enough, I knew just how to push the car down the driveway to jump start the engine.) Every bump I drove over was dampened by the shock absorbers (what the Brits called dampeners) I had installed. Every stop was accomplished through the brake pad I had installed, including those rear drums. I could tell at a glance if the tire pressure was low because I had checked it countless times; I could tell just by looking at them. Every mile that crossed odometer was one mile closer to the next maintenance event, like the oil change every three months or 3,000 miles. Even the foibles I didn’t or couldn’t fix added to the connection, like the broken snaps on the convertible top that ensured the left side of my head would be covered with snow on wintry days. There was the knowledge that your car needed your love and affection to get it to your destination. Even though my name was never on the title, that car was mine in a way that no other car would ever be.
My parents sold that Spitfire when I was in college without even telling me. I teared up a little, but my dad assured me it went to a good home, to another mechanically-inclined teenager who would soon enough be cursing Lucas electronics. I never met the new owner, but I often wonder if he learned to love that car, or if Lucas forced him to sell it on.
About a decade later, I bought a 1990 Mazda Miata. I thought it a great car. It evoked many memories of my old temperamental British sports car (after all, it was allegedly inspired by another British sports car, the Lotus Elan, even mimicking the exhaust noise). During the 13 years that Miata was my only car, I described it to my family as a reliable Spitfire. It was, indeed, very reliable; in fact, that was probably its only shortcoming (well, that and the spare tire taking up most of the trunk.) Yes, I changed the oil, but I rarely did anything else, it simply didn’t need it. I got in, turned the key, and drove it away. I knew without question that it would get me where I needed to go, and somehow, that was it’s only shortcoming.
I’m sure somewhere along the way I changed the spark plugs, but I don’t remember doing so. At one point, I replaced the rear shocks, but they were struts that required professional installation, so I couldn’t do it myself. I’m sure I had new brake pads put on it, but I didn’t change them myself and I can’t swear I ever actually changed them. That is all I ever did in 13 years. I really liked that Miata, but it was never mine the way that old buggy Triumph was. So, a few years after my oldest was born, I changed jobs and started driving to work rather than taking the train, so I bought a new four-door car and sold the Miata. The only pull on my heart strings was the years I had spent in the car, not the hours I had spent under the car. So, it was just a car I owned, not “my” car.
More than a decade later, I eventually bought another Miata thinking it would be an awesome first car for my 16-year-old son. While my son has some vague interest in getting his license (meaning he is constantly asking about it), his interest vanishes when we tell him the criteria he needs to meet to be able to get his license. One of those criteria is to learn how to do some basic maintenance like change a tire and the oil. To my son, cars are not meant to be worked on, they are simply appliances that take you from one place to the next. Time spent changing the oil is time that can’t be spent playing a video game or keeping up with his “streaks” on snapchat (which, near as I can tell, means sending random pictures to dozens of people at least once a day.) I feel somewhat sorry for my son, not just for the skills he will never gain, putting him at the mercy of overpriced mechanics, but for the connection he will never feel for a car into which he has invested his time and energy. And he has no idea what he is missing.
I listened to an episode of EconTalk recently where the guest discussed the “future of cars,” and one topic was that electric cars will eliminate all the jobs currently focused on repairing and maintaining the drive train. I think more will be lost than just those jobs — a portion of the American soul. And I, for one, think that is not necessarily an unmitigated good.
Published in General
I had a 1969 Spitfire, and it had a very reliable electrical system.
Mostly because I ripped out the old one and replaced it with a US-made alternator and Teflon-coated. heavy-gauge wires.
The car itself broke down one too many times (differential blew out), and the guy I was buying it from (time payments) took it back. Thank God.
Nowadays, I own a 2001 Subaru Outback that I bought (very) used with 167,000 miles on it. So far, I paid someone to replace the rusted-out brake lines in the back, but I also replaced the alternator, the power steering pump, the idler wheel, and the front brake discs and pads over the last several months…
That’s what they want you to think but it’s not so. I’ve changed the plugs in both my 02 4Runner and 07 Camry Hybrid. Plus doing the brakes on both last spring. The 02 has 189,000 miles and the 07 has 175,000 miles on it. I’ve done all the maintenance, oil changes with Valvoline synthetic each 10,000 miles including the filter, air filters each 20,000 miles, removal and cleaning (knock filter against something solid to remove dust and bugs) each 5000 miles. Both engines run just great. I’ve changed mass air flow sensors, belts, hoses, etc. as needed. Anything I wasn’t sure about how to do I just did a YouTube search to learn what I needed to know.The only thing I’ve had a Dealer do was replace a pump on the Camry which is tied in with the braking system-something to do with recumbent charging of the main battery. That is a dealer only part and only they can do the necessary set-up after it is installed, otherwise I’m sure I could have done it…if I could have found a place to buy the part.
The control panel on the 4Runner for the heater/AC got funky about 5 years ago. Taking it off and a thorough cleaning made it work better for a while but not for long.The Dealership quoted $1000 for the part and $1000 labor to install it. I found the part online from a dealership in California, new part, for $700 and installed it myself in about 2 hours. It’s still doing just fine.
I have an app for my phone which connects to the bluetooth from the vehicle which tells me what code is throwing the Check Engine light and will clear almost any code. Then I use the Internet to look up what possible problems might be the culprit.
I’ve never had a completely satisfactory experience with a dealerships repair shop. When I have taken vehicles in for repair I’ve always found a locally owned and operated shop with good reputation and had them do work I usually just didn’t want to do.
So with few exceptions I’ve found the modern vehicles are actually easier to work on than the older ones except for the cramped space under the hood. The main improvement that I really like is elimination of the carburetor. My dad was a carburetor expert, used to rebuild them for all his buddies, but I never reached anything like his skill in that area.
There’s always the AMF-era Harleys.
Hedgerow cutters. Though I understand the British had them, too.
My first was a 1962 TR4. So close to a TR3 that it still had the long necked radiator. Learned a lot about tinkering on cars. Have to say that car had personality. There was a certain young lady that I dated that it apparently did not like, as soon as I would get to her house to pick her up it would not start. I would park on hills wherever we went so I could jump start it. The passenger door would fly open when rounding corners when she was in the car. As soon as I would drop her off a turn of the key and it would fire up and I would not have any problems until our next date. I sold it about ten years later and bought a beetle. Still miss driving that car!
I’m sympathetic, but what you’re describing has nothing to do with transportation. It’s a hobby. I love hobbies, and there’s nothing to be ashamed about having them. But you shouldn’t put unrealistic expectations on them. Like reliability.
Our 61′ TR4 still had the hole in the front of the grill, for a handle that passes thru the radiator so you could insert a hand crank for starting the engine. Such a quaint notion. Even in my prime I could never spin it fast enough over the compression of the cylinders.
One always looked for a incline that could be leveraged for a rolling jump start. Potential Energy was always your friend with Lucas electrical systems.
I just this year stupidly destroyed my 1991 Miata that I had owned since 2003. It was always my second car, my back up for when my boxster was being worked on. I’m going to disagree with you that they are always reliable.
They are certainly about two orders of magnitude more reliable than a triumph, but I did a lot of work on my Miata.
I installed roll bars. I modified the boot cover to fit with the roll bars. I changed the right rear wheel hub. The air conditioner had to be repaired numerous times (but I to shop that out per the laws in Austin), I replaced the convertible top. I upgraded my 1991 to have an automatically raising and lowering antenna, I changed the radiator twice, the water pump twice, the clutch slave valve, the brake pads innumerable times, the ignition coil twice, I installed a custom driver’s seat. I replaced every component of the power steering system, I replaced the rear trunk deck lid.
I could go on. I had the car for 15 years and it was pretty reliable but every car breaks.
I would never curse anyone with a Lucas car, or a carburetor just to force them to learn. That would be like wishing for a return of Bubonic plague just to remind everyone how to be compassionate towards the dying. It just goes too far for the lesson you think should be learned.
The best way to learn about how to fix cars is to have two cars, so you can always count on having one good car for transportation while you fix the other if it breaks. You save a lot on repair bills that way and you learn a lot without having to rent a car. You can buy an old, generally reliable clunker for less than one trip to the repair shop. And then you learn how to be fearless in dismantling and reassembling a complex machine.
To the people complaining that their cars never break, I would suggest that your car is not old enough to break regularly yet. They all break.
They may not have carburetors but everything else can break. And you can pay a shop a lot of money or you can repair it yourself. No need to go to junk yards anymore, just go on line.
Mine came out about 25 years ago now. (They still bring out new models in September or so, don’t they?)
Had no idea other Ricochetti were car nuts. Loving the stories. Shame about all those swamp-dwelling, cocktail-swilling, car-manufacturing elites spoiling all our fun by making cars reliable, eh?
Plus you get yell out “I am not a number, I am a free man!” like you really mean it.
Lawdy that thing looks good. The trouble, though, as you’ll see, is that the car looks like it’s weighted too heavily on the driver’s side. What one requires is a car that’s designed so the engine slants slightly to the left (in a right-hand drive car) such that it’s balanced properly for a single driver. Which is what the Sylva Striker Mk.II did admirably.
I am not a number, I’m driving a Mk.II Striker.
I think I must come from the wrong generation for this piece. I have no nostalgic longing for the unreliable junk heap that was the Ford Tempo. After I got married our Saturn was still better than the temp but it did have tendency to strand us. It died right before or wedding and we ended up borrowing the stupid Tempo for our honeymoon. His mother picked up the car after it was fixed and I then drove it to our new apartment 4 hours away, inn the middle of August during a heat wave. The AC didn’t work and when his mother used it to deliver papers, she stacked a bunch on the center console right on top of the window controls which blew the fuse. Nobody told me this, and I drove in an increasingly hot oven until the car started overheating. That was apparently because his dad had failed to put the radiator cap on properly. Half an hour from home, I pulled over in 104 degrees and no shade until somebody driving by took pity and took me home.
I can’t tell if this a fond memory or not… It’s just memorable. It was a learning experience in that my new hubby told me afterwards that could have just used a penny for a fuse, and that I should have checked more closely under the hood.
I’m sure I could learn something more if my car was a junk pile, but… I don’t think at this point that it’s worth it to me.
Also, I did learn to never buy Ford.
I would not over think it. To be blunt, I was just trying to come up with a slightly different take on the group writing topic of the month and I am surprised my essay generated so many positive comments
I think it probably boils down to some people want their car to be an appliance and some people want the experience of driving a car to be something more.
The former would be happy in a car that drove for them, the latter would not. I, for one, do not look forward to a world where cars have no controls and everyone sitting inside the car are simply passengers.
I think it is safe to say that a Ford Tempo is just an appliance. There is nothing wrong with having a car that is an appliance. We have a minivan that I want to be reliable and I’m perfectly happy with my wife not knowing how to change the oil in the car. When we drive the whole family to Florida, I do not want the risk of a mechanical failure because that drive is about mere transportation. But on a summer afternoon, I would never say, “Honey, it’s a nice day out, I’m going to take the minivan out for a drive.” Along the same vein, I’ve never changed the oil or the brakes myself in the minivan, because it is just an appliance not worth investing my time. Every other car I own, I would prefer to do it myself.
I’m fortunate enough that I am able to have a minivan and other cars that are more fun to drive. I’m also fortunate enough to have a wife that enjoys driving fun cars too. On weekends when I have to take the van out of town with one son, I inevitably return to comments like “I had forgotten how much fun your car is to drive .” She is still somewhat bummed that racing seats I installed in the track-prepped car are not height adjustable because that means she can no longer drive it.
I just haven’t had the problem of having a car that never breaks, nor do I think anyone else does.
If we are not tinkering constantly with 120 year old technology, then we have more time to tinker with newer technology. No matter what, we should be filling our days with making life better.
You ought to check out my posts on the travails of my ’73 Corvette, also a constant work in progress.
Right now its nose is apart while I try to cut out the rusted-out header bar so I can remount the headlight buckets. I’ve rebuilt the braking system, the front suspension, and bits and pieces of the electric system so far, with lots more yet to come.
Obligatory Lucas electric jokes:
lucas electric jokes
Agreed. My original draft included a link to Skip’s restoration group but I couldn’t find the time to work it in smoothly, so it was excised. Happy to include it here.
http://ricochet.com/groups/car-restoration-and-repair-bleg/
You can still do a lot of work on modern cars, which of course they need less often, but you do need a lot more tools and patience and time. Older cars were designed with easy servicing in mind because they were so prone to breaking. Newer cars just aren’t designed with easy repair in mind because the expectation is that they’ll need it less often, plus emissions standards, CAFE standards, collision standards, and creature comforts make modern cars so much more densely packed than before that everything in them is a delicate and precise balance that is really easy to upset as a weekend warrior.
My father in law attempted to change the timing belt on a 20 year old Honda CRV. He thought it would be easy at the motor was just a 4-banger, but he didn’t reckon with the overhead cams, or the electronics and their required sealing. What he thought would be a $100 job turned out to require another $800 at the dealer as he got the cam timing wrong and let condensation in where it shouldn’t be, preventing the engine from running right. It would have been $500 if he’d taken it to the dealer in the first place, as they had the right tools and expertise.
We have that car now for my eldest to drive, and it still is prone to stalling as he cracked the distributor cover, so it stalls a lot when it’s cold and damp. Do I replace that distributor myself? A new one is pretty cheap, and it looks easy enough to access, but I run the risk of making it worse in the process. The dealer wants $800 to do the job. We’ll see.
I need to update that group, but I haven’t had time to work on the car in months while other projects called.
We had an ’87 Ford Taurus growing up that was constantly vying with my mother’s Chrysler Lebaron for the title of Worst. Car. Ever. The Taurus ate transmissions, head gaskets, head bolts, and coolant. The Lebaron tried to kill my sister by breaking its timing belt at 30k miles in a busy intersection, and had to be driven with the heater constantly on full blast to keep the engine from cooking itself.
GM Northstar engine. Yes, that’s the starter, buried in the valley under the intake manifold.
I’m not going to agree with that. Changing the brake shoes on drum brakes is a PITA. On my boxster, it’s a breeze. In fact, pretty much every job I’ve done on the boxster, and I’ve done a lot, has been easier than on most cars I’ve had.
Or maybe I’ve just gotten better at it.
Have you replaced the spark plugs in the boxster?
I do think Porsches are, for the most part, designed with routine maintenance in mind (ignoring the center lock wheels, which are nightmare for the backyard mechanic.
My buddy’s GT3rs requires that then engine be removed from the car, just to change the oil.
I think I will call shenanigans on this one.
A manufacturer requiring engine removal for a simple oil change and further I see they suggest doing it every 3K miles, would be ruinous PR, even for a Porsche owner.
What year? I’ve never heard that. The new ones have a plastic cover over the engine, but I don’t think you need to remove the engine to change the oil. The Carrera GT needed the engine out to change the spark plugs (and it is easier do so on some 911s) but the oil and brakes are pretty easy
Tell me about it. We just got a Dodge Journey. It seems that to replace the battery you have to remove the driver side front wheel and then the inside front fender well wall. We did not even notice this when we got it. First time we found it was when my wife tried to jump our RV and we could not figure out where to connect a jumper cable since the battery is totally inaccessible.
Yes, that’s a pretty easy job. The only difficulty, if you can call it that, is you need to jack up the car to get underneath. It takes me all of ten minutes to get the car safely on jack stands, including the time to put the car in the garage and get out the tools. No big deal.