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 Stratus with the same odd battery placement.
There are actually jumper points in the engine compartment. They’re not obvious, so you need to check the manual or YouTube to find them. But they are there.
Oh, I agree that there have been some improvements. I recently redid the brakes on that CRV – disc in front, drum in back. The drums were a lot more work, compared to the discs. Some things are definitely worlds better than before, but then again brakes are a wear item and have to be serviceable. But when my wife’s van needed new plugs I took it to the dealer because the only way to get at half the plugs was to put the van on a lift and drop the engine out the bottom. The Haynes Manual said I could do it myself, but I’d have to half drop the engine in my driveway from up above, then remove the entire intake manifold, throttle body, and fuel rails to get at them. It all depends on what you are servicing. Lots of modern cars are just very difficult to get at.
We have them. They’re just called “Dodge” and they have unfortunate habit of arriving partially pre-assembled.
It’s a 911 variant. It’s probably something someone said to brag about how much they spend on their car. It’s certainly not true.
I believe it was a 2014 or 2015. And yes, you really did have to pull the engine to change the oil because the oil sump was blocked by a cross member, and then Porsche claimed to have some special process for flushing the system. But Porsche rated the car for 10k oil changes, not 3k, unless you were racing it.
Like I said, it was a GT3RS, at the very high end of streetable racing Porsches.
Nope disagree, as someone who spent their childhood to early twenties working on cars that always had issues, I’ll take a new car that starts every time. The hassle of doing everything you just listed really would affect my bottom line. No thanks
Added, the cars of the late eighties and early nineties were fairly reliable and easy to work on.
Had a friend in HS who was proud of his TR-3 and was always telling us about it. Funny thing is, I simply can’t remember him driving it. Sure he did, though.
Learned to drive in my dad’s 1964 TR-4 and I always took the long way home. His father said it was the only thing my dad ever bought that he didn’t really need. I loved driving it, and driving in general. Luckily, it never broke down on me, and I don’t remember my dad having any problems with it either, but he might have worked on it when I wasn’t around. He sold it to a fellow Pratt & Whitney engineer, whose teenaged son totaled it in short order (the boy was OK). It made me very sad.
I asked about the GT3 oil change on a Porsche forum
Will see what the response is.
I’ll ask the guy for details too, but he was pretty insistent on this. The normal GT3, not a problem. But the RS was special.
I will be curious to hear what you learn.
Very few people with the money for a GT3RS will be changing their own oil. Their pit crew will do it if the dealership doesn’t.
The German’s were the best at patching anything up. As they had no choice but to constantly recycle and repair, allies especially the Americans and late war British had the ability scrap and replace.
Possible, but I look forward to that. I am a electronic engineering technician, I much prefer the electric car compare to the current ones. But as of now I am buying used cars until an affordable and viable electric car becomes available. So likely another 6 to 10 years of repairs, just replaced the power steering line in my Accord, can’t wait not to do that.
@skyler, I think you would be surprised. Plenty of Porsche guys turn their own wrenches (though plenty of guys pay someone to turn them as well)
The few that responded say it is very easy to change the oil on a 997.2, pretty much the same a 996 or 997.1
https://rennlist.com/forums/997-gt2-gt3-forum/1027770-997-2-gt3rs-oil-change-question-bleg.html
Well, I’ll bug him tomorrow with this and ask what’s up.
Wouldn’t the electric cars already be the current ones? All the others use combustion.
Then there is this:
Oh, this is one of my pet peeves. That plastic effectively says, “Don’t touch.” A-Squared’s post deals with some themes I’d been thinking of writing about but hadn’t gotten around to. Indeed, I lament that cars have gotten so reliable, complicated, and unwelcoming to the shade tree mechanic when something does go wrong. I also lament the gradual disappearance of the manual gearbox and, prospectively, the advent of self-driving cars.
A couple of commenters mentioned the Fiat 124 Spider. As a matter of fact, my wife and I spent most of Sunday driving her 1981 Spider to a car show, to lunch, and to drinks with friends. This was after a satisfying replacement, by yours truly, of the right front wheel bearings which had worn out. I bought the car for her 50th birthday three years ago, and it hasn’t let us down. It has 118,000 miles on the clock and it’s still going strong.*
A car like this does require some mechanical knowledge on the part of the owner. Design quirks must be understood and taken into account. For example, when putting coolant in the Fiat, one must use one of several techniques to burp the air out of the system. Failure to do so will lead to overheating, “Fix It Again Tony” jokes, and frustration on the part of any owner who hasn’t done his homework.
From online communities, an owner of a car like the Fiat can learn all the tricks and tweaks to keep his car running and often overcome and even eliminate original design flaws. It is immensely satisfying to get a car sorted so that it is as good as (or better than) new.
As far as electric cars are concerned, it pains me that (unless the electricity is generated from off-grid sources) we are moving toward such an inefficient method of fueling cars. We can burn natural gas (and coal), transmit the electricity to homes (with losses along the way), and use it to charge car batteries. Or, we could simply have natural gas-powered cars. The second option makes more sense.
*Addendum: The 1981 Fiat is a LOT more reliable than my 2005 Chevy Silverado pickup.
I know. I’ve been in the Porsche club for 20 years now. I certainly do. But I don’t own a GT3RS. Most of the people I know with that car are very wealthy and are very involved with paying someone to work on their car while they make the money to support the life style needed for such a car.
That is, they don’t turn wrenches that often, but work closely with their mechanic to get everything tuned how they want it. (Think Jerry Seinfeld and the Maestro, who tuned his engines.)
I’m optimistic about the future of hybrids, not pure electrics. But not the abominable mechanical hybrids currently on the market, but rather the kind of hybrid one would get by tossing half of a Tesla Model S’s batteries and installing a small (20kW or so) genset and fuel tank.
Battery chemistry will never get to the energy density of a fuel-tank/genset combination on anything other than daily commuting ranges. Battery capacity scales pretty much linearly with weight. Genset/fuel combos start with the genset weight and then scale linearly with fuel tank size above that. It doesn’t take a very big tank for such a combo to match the capacity of the battery, and above that, the weight of the fuel is ridiculously small for any additional energy capacity.
I think what is holding the established industry back is the enormous existing investment and intellectual capital for traditional engine/transmission/differential power trains. With pure electrics, individual wheel motors provide all the torque one can want without all the complex gear trains. Add a genset optimized for a specific power level (drag at rated highway cruising speed plus a little engineering margin) and you have a pretty impressive vehicle, with astonishing range possibilities. The genset becomes the pricey item, but it can be a package unit for easy service. The problem (political) is that turbines kick piston engines in the teeth for efficiency when designed for a specific point on a power curve. All of that investment in engine plants and engine technology patents will be jettisoned.
If you see Tesla partner up with Pratt & Whitney or some other turbine company, hold on to your hats. The winds of change will blow you away. FWIW, aircraft APUs are pretty close to the needed power levels, but they are packaged and engineered to expensive aircraft standards. That prices them out of the road vehicle market. I expect that’ll change.
Also consider that lithium-based batteries, the kings of power density now-a-days, are absolutely vile environmentally. With extraordinarily complex recycling requirements, and inherently flammable raw materials, lithium batteries ought to be banned. Lead acid batteries have much worse capacity, but with a genset to back them up, are well-suited to vehicle duty. While lead is poisonous with long or intense exposure, containment is well understood and recycling is simple and ubiquitous. Much safer and much more environmentally friendly in the end.
Thanks for the memories, A-Squared. I lusted after Triumph Spitfires in my youth. Great design! Today I drive a ’66 Austin-Healey 3000 plus a couple of modern cars. My oldest daughter is about to get her driver’s permit. While I wouldn’t want her to learn how to drive with the Healey, I’d love for her to learn how to drive on a 1960s VW or something similar with a manual transmission and, yes, an engine and other components that require a driver’s attention and maintenance. Alas, as a parent I cannot overlook the safety advantages of modern cars stuffed with airbags that become bubble-wrap around a teenage driver unfortunate enough to get into an accident. We recently acquired a late model Mini Cooper S. It is fun to drive with 8 — count ’em 8! — airbags in its tiny interior. The Mini will be my daughter’s rolling learning lab while my Healey is spared the typical teen driving mishaps.
There must be some physics I don’t understand behind the fact that we have *not* gone to the automotive equivalent of diesel-electric locomotives – the engine drives a generator which drives electric traction motors, instead of the whole ICE/Transmission thing.
When I first heard about the Volt I though that’s what it was going to be, but they still have the classic ICE/Transmission.
I’m no expert on trains, but I suspect the benefit of the diesel electric motor is that you use the DC motor to get exact speed matching with multiple engines. Since there is no need for that with a car or a truck, a simple hybrid makes more sense.
But why have the weight and complexity of both an electric and conventional drivetrain when you can just have electric motors driving the wheels, and a small optimized ICE driving an electric generator to charge the batteries? You wouldn’t even need a transmission – the ICE could run constant speed to drive the generator, and have the drive motors run full time off the battery.
Did you miss this part? The big automakers must be afraid that if they adopt the obviously most efficient solution the market will spin on a dime, leaving them holding billions upon billions of dollars in worthless plants.
I’m not convinced on this. Keeping plants running is much more valuable than the parts and equipment in them. I heard many stories when I lived in Wisconsin about the plants in Kenosha shutting down on a Saturday, the bulldozers coming in Saturday night and sweeping everything out, and new equipment being installed on Sunday so the first shift Monday morning wouldn’t be delayed.
I think its the IP that’s holding them back, simply because they don’t know any different.
I do automation work in this business and I’m going to call B.S. on this. Yeah, automakers and their suppliers do make sudden equipment replacements, and swapping a few production cells over a weekend is plausible, but a whole plant? Your Wisconsin acquaintances were exaggerating for effect. And certainly not bulldozers, unless they’re spending days to resurface the floors.
The IP is important, but its significance is intimately tied to huge, expensive production facilities.
I feel vindicated…I was thinking exactly the same thing. They screwed up the concept.
In the Eighties there was a guy on the cover of Popular Science who built a car that was basically a bed of lead-acid batteries with a seat on top and a gas turbine engine in the back. The turbine only ran long enough to charge the batteries, and it ran at its maximum efficiency (i.e. full throttle). Each wheel hub had an electric motor in it, which also provided steering and regenerative braking. 300 mpg. I’ve been waiting for that damn car for 40 years.