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She had to pick the coldest night in KY for a long time to show her moodiness. It was about 8 and I had just left the school where my cadets had performed a color guard.
Forty five minutes earlier on my way there I had taken the interstate to avoid the Christmas Parade on mainstreet. Hitting the down hill on ramp on I75 and merging in at 75 mph she showed no sigh of being moody. Her 2.1 easily eased uphill towards the next exit 2 miles away. I slide her into 5th gear cruising at 85 mph looking for the man. She did not even sigh to express the mood she was suppressing.
I eased off the interstate onto a 4 lane by-pass and then onto windy Old Wilderness Trail.I pushed her a little and thats when I first felt her shudder a time or two, but then it was 18 degrees outside and I thought, "Me too old girl, we're both needing a little boost in our tank to keep us warm. "Wait till we get home". She gave no further sign of what was to come.
As I went outside to start back home she kicked right in. Thinking the Parade over I made the mistake of heading towards town. Every corner held a cop sitting in a car looking like the "K-Mart" blue light special. I cursed myself for being so stupid, as I turned to get away from town,I felt her shudder again. "Damn, not now it's too cold". We went on and in the dark hit a speed bump too fast. We both winced as her shocks took the hit. We took another one too fast.I just wanted to get home before she got moodier. "If there are going to put these things in our way why not paint them yellow, I thought as I hit one more. She shuddered again in protest as I made another Hollywood stop. We made it back to Old Wilderness Trail and I eased into her again, a few more shudders."Water in the fuel?" I thought,"I just added dry gas". Coming to the by-pass I stopped and waited for traffic to clear. I stopped, turn right and she suddenly gave me the silent treatment, barely allowing me to clear the trail by 50 feet, yet allowing me to get to the very cold shoulder of the busy four lane. Typical female I thought. I'm hungry, tired, cold (she'd not yet warmed up to me since winter came as she had fan issues since we met), and ready to relax. Let me see if shes serious or just faking it. There was plenty of battery, and starter, but not the slightest sign she was going to give into my touch on her ignition switch.With flashlight and screwdriver in ungloved hands I opened her bonnet.
Looking her over in the usual places she revealed nothing. Fuses,lines, hoses, wires all in place. No seeps, leaks, or loose distributor. "Ignition or fuel?", I asked her. She remained silent.I coaxed her intake hose off with hands as cold as her heart. I offerred starter fluid into her open intake, but still she ignored my efforts to start her up. "Spark probably", I thought. I said, What the hey, it's too cold to mess with you here". I called triple A. "Forty five minutes or sooner since your in the cold", they promised. If they only knew. The 1st of 3 police cars stopped and lit me up and offered help, but I thanked them and said, "Thanks. I'm a bit of a mechanic, and triple A is on the way, and we'll be OK. Another good Samaritan stopped to offer assistance. I told him it was OK, a simple mechanical issue ("with domestic undertones", I thought), and beside three police cars had already been here tocheck us out.
As I stood stroking the little warmth left in her valve cover I was thankful for the greasy cloth gloves I found in her hatch. That and the box of tools almost as cold and untouchable as she had suddenly become. Wrapping my gloves around the ridges and curves of her valve cover, I felt what little warmth she still had left for me. I wondered what had gone wrong. It was months ago I had first seen her picture on ebay. Her discription simply read. "Rebuilt 5 speed transmission". Starting price $500. That and come remove transmission was about all I knew of her then.I looked her body over. A 1992 2 door hatchback from upper Georgia.What a black beauty. What was to become of a body like that when her 5 speed was gone? Iwondered. I emailed and asked what of the rest of her? Take the trans and you get the car for whatever her tranny brings. The seller said he had trouble listing her for anything but her 5 speed.I offerred the $500 on ebay and waited.She was mine. No one else wanted her, but then they did not know her secrets and that her body was as desirable and obtainable as her tranny was. I picked her up, and towed her home. I had no room to put her with her 6 new step sisters. I HAD to put her in storage for 5 months, stopping in to work on her,fixing her hall sensor problem and warming her up as best I could. I even drove her among the rows of storage sheds and since she was so spunky I promised her she'd be my number one as her 89 step sister was falling apart,and was soon tobe a donor car. Soon she was home and every day I drove her to work, and home again. Promising a blackinterior change, some fancy wheels and even some SPG panels. Then I took her on her first long trip to upper Ohio and back toget the parts i promised. She seemed pleased and quicly revealed she was a bit of a suppressed show off as she purred sweetly at 95 mph for 30-40 miles at a time without the slightest protest;as we fell in behind a Escalade with some type of awesome cop detector device. I said to who needs a turbo? and this from a man who once said" If you don't have a Tuboyou don't have a Saab. She was doing her best to put that old opinion torest.
She was the same way same when I took her to Missouri to pick up a grey interior and grey leather seats for her sister the 92 vert, and the blue top for her 93 vert sister. No signs of moodiness then as she opened wide to carry those things home to them, and continued to please me with her wide open throttle.
So why is she messing with me now? She continued to stingerly warm my thawing fingers.
I then thought again of her blue 93 vert step sister, that sweet wench that had left me sitting at the post office, with outeven a warning. Ran fine and looked so good when I went in, but not a sign of life when I came out. It had been over a year ago that she displayed issues that turned out to be anything but a "simple" spark issue. well it was,but not for me. After OUR ride home with AAA everything in the ignition system (save wiring) had been been swapped out with spare parts except the distributor finger and the distributor. I said to myself "No way do distributor fingers fail". I swapped one out from the 89 sedan and the 93 vert started right up. Who'd have thunk it. A bad distributor finger.Never saw one before in my life, and I've been working on cars and airplanes over 45 years.
As I watched her beautiful but comatized black body slide gently off the back of the triple A truck into the garage I thought, "Baby this only the second time in my life any of my Saab babes have left me down, and I think I know what you need.
Today I gave her the finger. I turned the key and she responded instantly. She's back to her sweet self again, and as soon as I work on her heater fan she promises to never leave me in the cold again. Just as long as I carry a spare finger to keep her sparked up. I PROMISE to NEVER agin make this a forum for creative writing 101. PLEASE don't ban me. Beside being a Saab addict I have cabin fever AND brain freeze.
posted by 209.250.50...
, Sun, 7 Dec 2008 11:15:32
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