'81 Pontiac Phoenix.
It had the mushiest suspension you can imagine, and body-rolled like you would not believe. The worst part was the starter though. The starter went tits up one day so I went to the parts store to get another. Said starter didn't match mine, so I tried it anyway, no go. Took it back and wound up having the guy look through every starter they had to find one that fit. Found one that looked right (off an S-10 or something completely unrelated), and it wouldn't turn. So I wound up cracking open the old starter and rebuilding it by hand. I salvaged some brushes from another starter and put it back together, only to find that the pawl was not engaging the flywheel at all. Took it out again. Turns out the pawl engagement arm was cracked down the center. Out comes the bailing wire. I wired the bitch back together and got it running, though I did have to manually start the engine from under the hood by arcing the contacts with a piece of angle iron. Yeah, every fucking time I started the car, I had to turn the ignition on, open the hood, and arc the contacts by hand, all while avoiding the fan blade.
Well, as you can imagine, the bailing wire didn't last long. I got to the point where I could drop the starter, crack it open, rewrap the arm, and have it back in all inside of 35 minutes. Kept the tools in the car so I could do it anywhere, and can say that I've rebuilt starters all over the city I live in
Hated that fucking car.
Sad part is that I sold it to a friend of a friend who stiffed me on the money for it. Then three months later I get a call from the police at 3am asking me why my car had been involved in a convenience store robbery and a hit and run after, and where I was throughout all this.
HATED that fucking car.
Last edited by Moonduck; 10-24-2004 at 06:55 AM..
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