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More . . .
And more . . . .
1) Compare this to NiceT's original pics . . .
http://www.early911sregistry.org/for...read.php?51741
2) Underside of one crusty trunk mat
3) My favorite shot . . . of the whole car. I know it's fun to see the pretty stuff --- clean, smooth, shiny and all that --- but I like to see things like this --- hidden, out-of-the-way . . . undisturbed, like discovering an ancient tomb.
Loved finding this. Looks like nothing's been touched -- ever. (Even has some chips from the previous paint-job John peeled off.)
Call it King Tut's Smuggler's Box . . .
(And I will never clean this.)
She is beautiful Rick, thanks for sharing. What a great read!
Hey, Spence! . . .Quote:
Originally Posted by ///msw3
Pretty cool finding you here, Man --- really is a small world.
I've put this picture up in other places, here on The Registry --- Spencer is the guy who bought my M3, back when I first started my search for an 'S' . . .
Enjoy your choices . . . and be sure to post.
And welcome to The Dark Side
Had a break in the weather over the last few days so --- gave 1059 a bath --- the first one since it came back from John's, back in October. I know how that must sound but the car just wasn't that dirty. The weather's gone cool here, so there aren't many bugs out, and, apart from exhaust and road grime, there's not much mess to even drive through. Besides, with the thorough polishing and waxing John did --- nothing sticks!
John told me, when I got the car --- no car washing . . . sponge baths only. So? Got a micro-fiber cloth, a bucket of water, a good cotton terry cloth, then had at it. Took about an hour --- and I was loafing, believe me --- and did the deed. Went every where, too --- doors and jambs, windows, underneath the valances --- not the engine, though --- that's a separate deal. Used maybe a gallon of water? Pretty proud of that. Makes up somewhat for all the fuel and pollution this thing kicks out --- what a stink-bomb! (Although, I have to admit . . . . love the smell of an old hot Porsche: oil, tires, brakes, clutch, pipes crackling, upholstery toasting --- yum.)
Anyway, got her cleaned-up --- decided 1059's a Girl --- then headed-off to my old neighborhood for some glam shots --- a wash and some product (on the trim and tires) to even out the finish a bit --- then?
. . . A little run through Silverado and Black Star Canyon. Nothing too crazy --- mid-day when I got there, some traffic . . . but mostly? I just wanna hear her run out. 4000 RPM, then squeeze the throttle, feel her pull --- then pull hard and clean -- way up. Love, love, love her voice.
Took some more pics . . . then put her away. Hope to go to the New Year's Run, coming up this week-end.
Meanwhile, Santa got me a new Halotron extinguisher . . . to replace the museum piece that's in there now --- before anything really naughty happens. Halotron is a liquid but is specifically designed to be less caustic and harmful to metal and electrics. Hope I never find out.
And?
Broke down and personalized 1059. Sorta. I almost never personalize my cars. I like my cars clean, with no visible identifying marks. I like 'em to get noticed because they're not personalized, you know what I mean? And when I do, it's usually something only I or a Mechanic or a Body Guy would ever pick up on.
But occasionally I make an exception. Something I picked-up from my Grandfather. My Grandfather was a tradesman --- Painter and Decorator --- very Old School. Learned his trade in Germany, before The War. Anyway, he never owned a car --- couldn't afford one --- until he came to Canada, then the US, back in 50s. He wasn't a Car Guy per se, although he owned some pretty interesting cars . . . but he really loved driving. Probably because he had to wait 'till he was here, and in his 40s, with a fresh Inter-state Highway System to drive on. Growing up, I spent a lot of time, in the back of a station wagon, with my Grampa driving. Anywhere. Didn't matter.
Still doesn't. I drive . . . just to drive.
My Grampa was not a real demonstrative kinda guy, you know? --- I don't think that anyone from his generation was. But he was a real softie. Used to keep a mascot in his car . . . a little Steiff cat.
I got 1059 a mouse. Pilla.
When I can't drive any more . . . I'll still be that kid, in the back of my Grampa's Plymouth . . . his best mascot . . .
Vielen dank, Vati . . . .
Rick Kreiskott
GREAT posts Rick...... :D
Holiday Cheers
http://www.early911sregistry.org/for...1&d=1290928348
Gotta admit I like that coco mat pattern, at least the unfaded part. They'd look nice in our green cars. If only the cocomats.com guy could've offered them...
Rick, it was like reading haiku with your two & three word sentences, describing your gramps. or was it beat poetry ? maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's a quiet house the morning after a 300 mile roundtrip with the family in the rusty old saab to a dinner in gettysburg, but definitely a state of mind that resonates with me.
best
Reza
Isn't it?Quote:
Originally Posted by Reza
I catch myself thinking . . . . why do I do this?
I don't think of myself as an accidental sort of person --- I tell myself that I do things for a reason. I started this whole tread with an explanation, reasons . . . but another truth is --- I'm kinda haunted . . . and not by a car.
The ghost in this machine? . . .
Is me . . .
The kid in the back . . . .
The Mascot
I drove out to Van Nuys, for the TRE get-together on Saturday. We've had some wet weather here, in Southern California, the past few weeks, but it was beautiful New Year’s Day . . . dry, clear, cool --- highs in the 50s --- all the mountains covered in snow.
Now, Van Nuys is normally about an hour-and-a-half away (or more) from me, here in South (Orange) County, but, wash down the roads, take away 80% of the traffic and jump in an MFI'd 911 and --- sha-zam! --- got there in less than an hour! That's just the kind of drive this silly car is made for.
There are a lot of things posted here on The Registry --- projects and build-ups, photos of all kinds of cars and parts, even documents and schematics and part numbers --- details I couldn’t hope to find anywhere else. But I don't see a lot written here about what its like to actually drive/run/use a Longhood. I’ve owned a lot of different vehicles over the years, and, after they’re gone, what usually stands out for me is what they drove like. I can tell you that, as far as 1059 is concerned, an Early 911 is definitely something . . . different.
This car is kept in-doors, in some garage space, in an industrial park. Comes out on week-ends mostly, sometimes during the week, so usually sits for a few days at a time. When we go out, I start by dragging her to the open back doors of the building, poking her butt out, in the alley, keying the fuel pump on for about 5 seconds, then engaging the starter. Car’ll usually catch, almost immediately, with a light tap of the throttle --- if I’m quick. If not, then it’ll take two or three more 5-second bursts of the starter. Once she’s running, I drive the rest of the way out, then leave her in the alley, setting the hand-throttle to idle the motor at ~1200-1500 RPM. These cars have a reputation for catching fire so I always have an extinguisher handy --- in the building and in the car. I let the car sit and run like that for a few minutes, while I close everything up, before hopping back in.
Taking off is always interesting. From idle to about 2000 RPM, 1059 feels just like any other car --- smooth clutch, enough torque to handle the load --- feels good. But then, around 2200-2500 RPM . . . the nonsense starts. Slight surging, audible pumpfing (kinda like tennis balls being dropped onto a pie pan), even bucking --- I’ve had the accel pedal kick-back hard enough to almost push my foot off. Any large or sudden throttle movements only make things worse. And all this behavior is at its worst when the car’s cold. So, starting out, getting re-acquainted, I just squeeze the throttle slowly, until the revs get up above 3000, where things seem to settle down some, then cruise around – for about 10 minutes --- while the motor gets some temperature. After things warm up, this unevenness, reluctance, is still there, only fainter. So I stay out of that rev-range --- just keep the revs up, kinda like a motorcycle. Takes some getting used to.
If all of this sounds straight-forward enough --- doing it in traffic is not. This is so NOT a city car. No matter how careful or quick or coordinated I am in getting her off the line and going . . . 1059 is a dog around town, and managing her, um --- short-comings? --- in the usual cut-and-thrust of everyday traffic is . . . exhausting. I can make the car behave --- but its so clear that the car was not made to be used this way. Getting 180 HP out of 2.2 liters on pump gas, in 1970, comes at a cost --- and that’s low-speed driveability. Makes me appreciate how far cars have come when I think of what modern engine management does for smoothing out today’s VWs and Hondas with similar power and displacement. And how amazing that Porsche tried . . . . forty years ago.
Which brings up something that I love about these cars. In a modern vehicle, all the drama and nuance are engineered clean out, and what's left is as smooth and seamless an experience as the manufacturers can conjure up. But in this car? Uh-uh. I get to feel everything that’s going on --- figure it out for myself. No filter. Tag --- I’m it.
Like the steering. First time I drove a 911? I thought the steering was broken! There was so much ‘stuff’ coming through the wheel, I thought the wheels were crooked and the control arms loose --- shakes and drumming, little twitches and a constant buzz/tingle fire-hosing my hands through the wheel. But nothing’s broken. Everything's just coming through --- every bump, every seam, every rock and pebble.
And then? . . . there’s the good ole gearbox. The 901’s odd dog-leg pattern was easy enough to understand. What took me a little time was using a shifter that, at first, feels pretty-much disconnected from the car its poking up through the floor of, let alone the process it’s meant to facilitate, and, even when I’m reasonably familiar with its operation, still makes gear selection feel like playing checkers with chop sticks. It, like the engine it’s vaguely associated with, needs to be handled ‘just-so.’ I use fingertips to place the shifter into an appropriate slot, then twingle/coax the gear into service --- deliberately . . . double-clutching, re-selecting as required. A lot. Zero force. Never rushing, thoughtful . . . every tooth of every gear, tickling, meshing. Stupid.
A lot of work to drive . . . not relaxing.
Which is what I so enjoy. I could easily just look at the stupid thing, leave it at that. And I’m no masochist. But. Mastering the start-up? Managing a 2.2 liter tornado? Finessing gears with chop sticks? . . . in traffic? I feel like a hero every time I drive it. What do people in cars with computerized-everything know about what it takes to actually get down the road, really drive? What makes this car so entertaining is not that it takes me away from anything . . . instead, everything about getting the car to work is on me. And the work-load --- noises, vibrations, a mish-mash of control inputs --- firm-this, delicate-that, constant decisions --- what to do, when, how much. It's not like I'm piloting some super-car . . . in traffic, I'm usually on the far right --- staying out of the way.
But --- totally absorbing. 'Getting it right' in a really tight window. Booting a busy engine and throttle, wanding an almost-weightless shifter, gripping a lively wheel, eyeing traffic, gauges, the road . . . when I get out . . . I am so buzzed.
And then a day comes along . . . a day like New Year’s . . . with good weather. And an open road . . .
. . . All the way to Van Nuys.
Woo-hooooooo!
All the nonsense that I’ve described up to now fades away when this silly little car has some room to run. Yeah, yeah --- still gotta pay attention to the gear-change, but, like they say . . . practice makes perfect. And whatever short-comings, quirks, weirdness or general bad behavior 1059 might display at slow speed . . . all are forgiven --- at high.
This little old car . . . is fast.
If the car felt uneven and uneasy in town, its because . . . it just doesn’t work there. But? --- get it out on the freeway, dial up 4500 RPM and point that busy little nose down the road . . . it all makes sense. Power steadies, gear noise levels, steering lightens, a little light car that skips, scribbles, skims over the road. Still no filter --- sounds and vibrations and movements pick-up some --- and winds’ll push it around. But inside, very secure --- feels like riding in a missile . . . steady, sure. On target.
Gearing is ridiculous. At 3000 RPM, the engine is at the bottom of its useable rev-range. (The very bottom) Pretty much loafing. So, I tend to run it up a bit higher. The problem is, that that means staying in 4th . . . 3200-3700 = ~ 55-65 . . . OK for regular-speed cattle traffic . . . I guess. Bad enough that 1st gear can only be used moving off from a dead start . . . now I can’t use 5th, as well? A 3-speed Porsche?
On the other hand, 3000 RPM in 5th is 120 KPH/75 MPH --- still loafing, only now I’m kinda speeding. Luckily, on SoCal freeways . . . those speeds mean that I blend right in. But the car feels so much better at 3500 --- Officer --- so I keep it to a nice-but-not-so-flagrant 3300 . . . and just try to mix-in with traffic --- mostly radar-absorbing vans and large I’m-stupid-please-arrest-me-first pick-ups and SUVs --- not watch the speedo. In that kinda cruise mode, 1059 just annihilates the miles. And a tank of gas. Whatever.
Anyway, got to TRE, took some pictures, hung out --- good talking to not-so-noted TV personality George Eshaghi --- bought a case of Brad Penn, then . . . . watched people actually run to start the friendly un-official/not-supported-by-us/we-don’t-know-any-of-these-people fun drive . . . in such low-key, regular daily transpo-type cars like, you know . . . Turbos, Nissan GTRs, Ariel Atoms . . . on canyon roads.
Shoulda gone to Tony’s . . .
So, I went to the beach, took a few pictures, ended up at the Newport Back Bay --- haven't been in years --- looked at the water and the birds and the sky and all that snow on the mountains . . . and thought about Alaska.
Rick Kreiskott