I think my car is trying to tell me something. This afternoon, I got the ugly, but functional light system to work again. I have a new wire for every old one in the brake light circuit on the back hatch of the Sloppy Jalopy. I got inventive when I was down to one fuse, and that's going to get serious attention when I take the car apart for a new coat of paint this winter.
I am going to assume that I'll still have the car, just to ease my angst.
So. There I was, minding my own business and having a small celebration over the brake light problem being solved when I decided to turn the key and fire the old girl up. I needed to move it out of the engine bay at the station so the fire truck could pull through, but it wouldn't fire.
It made a ka-thunk, a vague metallic thudding, like it wanted to fire but maybe the teeth of its sprocket weren't moving the flywheel. Starter. Check; I'll take that out. Except ... no. It's never that easy.
I fussed and turned, but I couldn't get the top bolt to come loose. After messing with it long enough to ruin a wrench, I decided to call Alan, because I know he eats starters and wiring for breakfast on Saturdays. He makes a couple suggestions, like "Hey, which end of the bolt are you turning?"
Sure enough, there's a protruding end I can't see, under the shroud hose of the DTM. So it came off pretty easily after that.
TC makes a suggestion (his eyes aren't any worse, BTW) that perhaps I should bench the starter -- and tells me how he'd do it, which I did -- and it turns out to be okay. WHRRRRRRR ...
Crap. Square one. At this point, I've tried turning the pulley clockwise, and it won't go. I've turned it counter-clockwise, and it's having trouble. I know the starter works, so maybe it's the battery.
Nope. And now it's too late to call the usual suspects on the Right Coast, so I thought I'd call Angela for some WTF? help.
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