I'm going to start from day one, the very first day that I drove my Spider. It was absolutely fantastic, as I'm sure you all know. The day of that test drive I withdrew the cash from my bank account and purchased it: My very first car, an Italian convertible that was nine years older than me.
The real journey began, however, several days later, when the shift lever suddenly seemed to come undone and spin around loosely as I attempted to shift. After getting it home, confused, parking it, and fiddling around with the lever a little more, it came out completely.
I had never worked on a car before, but I knew when I bought it that my Spider had some things to teach me. So I referenced the shop manual, I jacked up the car, naively neglected jack stands, and spent two days' worth of spare time tearing apart the center console, removing the drive shaft, and shoving everything back into place. To top it off, I covered that fallen nut, which had caused me so much trouble by coming off of that shift lever, with a good dose of Threadlock. That way I could be sure that it would never come loose again.
This was only one of many problems that forced me to learn about my car, and get my hands dirty. I've ended up replacing an oil pump, an oil pan, and a fried ignition switch, to name a few. I have to say this: When the car is broken down, for long periods of time, when I'm not sure what the problem is, and when I am waiting for parts, I almost come to resent the entire thing. It is infuriating, especially when having a broken down Spider means walking to work and school in the ever-present Seattle rain. When it's running though, I know that ultimately I love the car down to every nuance and strange indescribable noise it makes.
Recently however, all the stress of having a broken Spider has come rushing back.
About a year ago I noticed that shifting through the gears was becoming incredibly hard. Getting into first required the strength of an Olympian and I myself felt physical pain when having to listen to my lever grind through the gears getting into reverse. As I had done in times past, I came to you my friends at fiatspider.com, and referenced my shop manual. I decided that the clutch cable needed tightening, and so I tightened it up leaving 1" of play within the pedal, as is customary. To make a long story short, my clutch pedal ended up snapping, I ordered a new one along with a new cable, and I replaced both (this is all chronicled here).
After having looked through the papers which I received from the previous owner, I learned that they had also replaced the clutch cable once before. I was a little bit wary of the fact that I was probably just delaying the re-emergence of the real problem by just replacing the cable again. Despite this, the car was running fine with the new pedal and cable, shifting easily, and I was loving it again.
That's me in the driver's seat.
Now I'll do a bit of fast forwarding. The car did well for about nine months, with only small things like spontaneously separated ignition pickup wires keeping it off the road for short periods of time. Seven weeks ago, however, the "poop" returned to hit the fan. Shifting was starting to get progressively harder, once again. I tightened the clutch cable in small increments, but it wasn't helping, and I knew what would happen if I tightened it up too much. I knew as well at that point that there was a larger unseen issue at hand which probably had to do with the clutch. At the same time, I was also at a particularly busy point in my life, working full time and trying to keep up with a full time school load. I didn't have the time to learn how to remove a clutch, or to even mess with the car at all.
So I made a desperate decision: I decided that I would, for the very first time, take my car to a mechanic. That somehow I would find the money, and that in return, I would avoid all the stress that comes with having to diagnose and repair an Italian automobile. It felt great when I pulled it into the repair yard of Dave's Transmission Service, handed them the keys, and no longer felt the need to worry about how I was going to get my car fixed.
Their lot was full, and they told me that it would be a while before they could look at it, but I was fine with that. I figured that it would take them around a week to get around to looking at it, and that in another week they would have found the problem and had it fixed. I had never dealt with taking my car to a mechanic before, and I didn't know what to expect. Hence, I made the naive decision of walking out without having established a set date for when the car would be fixed.
Three weeks passed and I had received no word from Dave. He had told me that it would take him a while though, so I wasn't angry. I just called him up and asked him if he had taken a look at the car yet. This was the day before Thanksgiving. He told me that they had looked it at, but at the same time he wanted to clarify with me that the car had an adjustable clutch cable. I told him that it was adjustable, as I had told him when I brought the car in. Additionally, I wondered to myself how he could have looked at the car and not seen instantaneously that it had a cable.
Either way, he told me that he or one of his mechanics would get some serious time in with the car either the next day, or the day after Thanksgiving, and then call me back. I waited another week, and heard nothing from Dave, so I gave him a call. He told me that he hadn't looked at it yet. This made me sad, and a little frustrated, but in general I'm a pushover. So when he told me that he'd look at it right away, I told him that was great and just hung up the phone again and waited. The next week, Dave called me. He told me that my battery was dead and that they wouldn't be able to work on my car until I brought a trunk key over to them.
When I brought the key to Dave, stopped for a moment before leaving and in a most unassertive way, told him that I would really appreciate it if he got my car finished right away. I told him that I was tired of walking to work and school in the rain. He told me that he'd make the car a priority. He already had a hunch that my pressure plate was the problem, and that the clutch might need replacement. So I walked out the door again, hoping desperately that Dave would finally get my car fixed.
It was at this point that I started to get a little spiteful about the whole situation. I had brought the car to the mechanic because I wanted it done fast, and because I didn't want to have to stress about it. Obviously, the mechanic had failed me in regards to both. Everyone I talked to told me that I should call Dave and angrily demand that he pull it together and get my car back to me. I even started to tell myself that if another week rolled around and the car wasn't fixed, I would simply walk in and drive it out of their lot. I didn't want to do this because it would have meant that all of my weeks of walking around in the rain would have been for nothing, but the thought of taking my car and leaving Dave with a Fiat clutch that he would probably never get the chance to use comforted me slightly.
The end of the week rolled around, and it wasn't finished. They were still waiting on the clutch they said. Not evil enough to actually leave them with a useless clutch, I waited and let them install it. Only a couple days later, I was back in their lot. The bliss of getting my little car back, turning it on, and pulling it out of that lot was nearly indescribable. I was so happy to just finally have my car, that I never even asked them if they found out what the problem was. I never asked to see the pressure plate. I had a new, great feeling clutch, and so I figured my problems were over. To boot, they had only charged me about $230 in labor for the installation of the clutch, and they had welded a hole in the exhaust for me at no extra charge.
At this point, Christmas was rolling around. I was back to my old ways, cruising around in freezing weather with the top down, and loving it. I was confident that I'd never have to deal with Dave ever again, and my face pretty much looked like this everywhere I went:
Well, on Christmas day, I was visited by an old friend. Driving back from festivities, in the middle of the night, I rolled up to a stop sign. The engine was humming. I depressed the clutch pedal. I began to push the lever into first, and then all of a sudden it swiveled around to the left about 60 degrees. The nut at the bottom of the shift lever had come undone again. There was no doubt in my mind that the mechanic had taken the nut off when replacing the clutch, and failed to put any sort of Threadlock back on. I was frustrated, but I also didn't feel like dealing with Dave ever again, so I got up early one morning, jacked up the car (using jack stands this time), and lathered the nut with Threadlock again before tightening it back up myself.
My co-workers had already made a bet that my car would be broken down again within two weeks, but I had averted the situation, and the car was back on the road lickety-split, with the a locked-in shift lever that was tight as ever.
I've been cruising around since then, and even installed a great looking new steering wheel that I got for Christmas.
The nightmare continues though, and yesterday as I was driving around I began to notice that even with my shiny new clutch, shifting was starting to become a little bit tougher. When I parked my car last night I got out a flashlight, got onto my knees, and peered into the darkness where the clutch cable leaves the pedal and enters the firewall. I wanted to make sure that the forks on my pedal weren't starting to bend back or anything. This is what I saw:
So basically I'm flabbergasted. My head is spinning with questions. When I took it to Dave's, did they even diagnose the problem, or did they simply assume that the problem was in my clutch, and replace it? Did I even need a new clutch? Did they tighten my cable down too much? When I take it in tomorrow, what do I say? Do I bring up the loose shift lever? Do I instantly blame them for not getting the problem fixed? Are they going to just tell me "tough luck", and leave me with a busted firewall and a nearly un-driveable car?
I'm almost at a complete loss about what to do. I've been wrestling with this mechanic and this problem and this car for so long, and I don't want it to be for nothing. I also don't have insane amount of money to shell out to somebody to remove my steering column and weld everything back together.
I love this car, but seriously, is somebody up there trying to tell me something? The stress is killing me.
Last night, even with the hole in the firewall, I drove the car from where I live in Edmonds, WA, to downtown Seattle. At midnight, with the top down, and speed limits being amply broken, I cruised down the interstate. There was a girl in the passenger seat and another guy wedged into the back. It was a great drive. Part of me is nearly coming to terms with the idea that this may have been my last good ride in the car I've loved so much.
(Cue tear jerking music.)
Quit your bellakin! Man, you're living life. Besides, you're lookin good too! You'll never appreciate things if you don't swet, and bleed a little! And you will never learn untill you break a few things. There is a price for life in the fast lane. 