heavy starter

[Christopher Hoffman <imperial67@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Reminds of how I came to change the original starter in my '67 after it gave
its last crank... at 124,000 miles.

The car had exhibited a hot starting problem for years. It just cranked more
slowly when it was hot. I tried carb adjustments, considered a thermal
gasket underneath the carb, and finally decided to do a draw test on the
starter, thereby finding the culprit. My mechanic, a wonderful man in his
80s (much to my surprise) who was not prone to replacing things before their
time, told me I'll need to address that sometime. When, I wondered?

So I went out and bought a rebuilt starter and tossed it (OK, gently placed
it) in the trunk and promised myself I'd put it in next chance I got. About
six months later, I gave the car a weekend exercise run... to my office.
Upon my arrival, I stopped the car, and just to be sure it would start later
that afternoon, I started it again... no problem. And so I figured after a
few hours to cool down, it would be happy to bring me home that evening.

At 6 pm (it's a Sunday), I finish my work and go to the lower deck of my
subterranean office garage to drive home (some 30 miles). Crank, crank,
crrrrannnnkkk... no start. The cranking sounds more like grinding metal at
this point, and I realize what I have to do. In my parking garage, with
whatever tools are in the trunk. And without anything to raise the car
safely. One other point: the garage ceiling is too low to get a tow truck in
to pull the car out so I can just pay someone else to fix it tomorrow... and
that'd be assuming someone would be around to shlep 30 miles down to my
office to come get me.

After waiting a good hour so the now very warm starter could cool off just
enough to touch (yes, it got that warm in the fifteen minutes of repeated
attempts at "just one more time, baby!"), I managed to gather enough tools
to remove the starter. Once it was no longer attached to the car, under
which I could just about slide, much less move my arms and shoulders, I
realize that this 50-lb monster does not just drop down and let me slide
out. In fact, I cannot find an opening (dimly lit by the fluorescent lights
of the garage and little else) through which the starter, which I am now
holding upside down over my head, can fit. So I begin to rotate it every
which way and guide it all around the left side of the engine hoping I'll
find the way out of the labyrinth. After about ten very long minutes, with
my last ounce of feeling in my arms, I realize that if I spread the
transmission oil lines (the ones that go to the bottom of the radiator) very
gingerly, I can wedge the starter through. At last, freedom.

Now the big challenge: getting the new starter in. Using the same path, I am
able to work the starter into position, but there seems to be nothing to
hang it on. Turns out the upper bolt is really a stud, threaded on both
ends. And, of course, it was still firmly attached to the old starter that
was installed 32 years prior at Jefferson Ave! Not willing to let the
starter rest on the little tranny lines, I work it back out, set it down,
and work the stud from the old unit. Then, I crawl back under the car and
install the stud back into the bell housing of the car.

Another run at routing the starter into position (my arms are very tired at
this point), and finally, it sets into position. With my third arm, I reach
for the other hardware and snug everything up. Reconnecting the wires, I
finally consider that (1.) I've been alone working under a car in a locked
office parking garage for two hours, and (2.) was there any juice left in
the battery to crank the new starter?

At just that moment, a friend and coworker pulls up alongside me, purely by
chance. Jumper cables in hand, I ask him to leave me his keys while he goes
into the office. Clip, clip, clip, clip, and I let his Mercedes charge my
battery for a moment. And then, magic!

It had been literally years since this starter had begun its slow exit from
this mortal plane. In fact, the starter was probably due for replacement
when I bought the car in 1989. The new unit cranked so freely, so quickly,
that it sounded like I was starting a tiny Japanese 4-banger. The "Highland
Park Hummingbird" sound was music... it took me back to my childhood! In
seconds, the car fired up with a giant "thank you" for making the task so
easy once again. I packed up, cleaned up, and drove home.

And only then did I realize that, had it given me one more start at the
office, it would have then stranded me 20 minutes later in a rotten part of
LA where I had planned to stop and fill the gas tank. Suddenly the safety of
my office, and the convenience of having a clean floor and a place to wash
up afterwards, all became apparent, and I realized what a great place this
was to have to perform this unexpected surgery.

Moral of the story: Replace the starter sometime before you have to. Carry a
toolbox in the car. Maintain your upper arms and shoulders. Grow an extra
elbow in each arm. And get a job where there's secure indoor parking...

Good luck with the replacement! It's easier than it sounds... in retrospect,
of course.

Chris in LA
67 Crown
78 NYB Salon