So much for my relaxing little vacation.
London was fine and dandy, the trip down was seamless and fun, the visit to the car lot in Stratford was mostly fruitless, but not unenjoyable, and the trip back was even alright, until we hit Sudbury. Then it got interesting.
The charging system warning light came on as we were approaching the bypass. The light is the one that looks like a battery. Now when this light comes on, it means that there is something wrong with your car’s electrical system; either the battery is dying, the alternator’s output is below or above the normal range, or there is a fault somewhere in the system, like a bad ground connection. In any case, if you continue driving like that, all sorts of bad things could happen, from the car just quitting, to frying all the electronics on board, so you really can’t afford to take any chances.
It was only 7 o’clock, so we pulled in to the local Canadian Tire, hoping that they could get a look at it right away. This was, apparently, a foolish notion. Best they could do was the next day, and at first, this seemed unacceptable. We had places to go and it wasn’t dark yet. I concluded that if it was either the battery or the alternator, and if they had one in stock, I could just change them out myself in the parking lot, so we went in again to see about getting a volt-meter to diagnose the problem.
After poking around a little, it turned out that the battery was just fine, which is good, because Miatas have a very special, unique, and expensive battery not used in any other car, and so likely not in stock anywhere. It has a different chemical inside because of its location (the trunk) and is extra small and light, like everything else on the car. Though it would have been the easiest to change, I could have substituted a different one temporarily, and even if dead, the car would continue to run from the power provided by the alternator; we could just drive it home and deal with it later.
Checking the alternator revealed the problem; it was only putting out 12.1 volts. That would explain the funny smell on the way into town. Here I just thought it was the smell of Sudbury. A car’s electrical system runs from both the battery, nominally 12.6 volts, and the alternator, usually putting out about 14. Most cars, especially older ones, will continue to run until they’re at about 8 or 9 volts, but lights will be dim, accessories will be sluggish or non-functional, and the vehicle may run poorly, especially if newer. In my case, the altenator didn’t even have enough juice to keep the battery charged (anything under 12.5 volts is unlikely to start the car), and would probably not be enough to keep all the lights on, or operate wiper or blower motors. It was getting dark, and we were back in the North, so it was cooler and would be a little unpleasant without heat. Really, not having enough juice to power the lights was the big issue. I’d also noticed that the car was beginning to idle strangely, so continuing didn’t seem like a good idea.
Looking under the hood, the alternator is actually fairly easy to access and change, and I was prepared to just change it in the parking lot. I was at a Canadian Tire after all, I could just pop in and buy whatever tools I needed to do the job. Being a summer car, there were no rusty bolts to worry about, and I didn’t particularly care about getting dirty. However, it was irrelevant since they didn’t have one in stock, nor did anyone else in town that was still open, nor, as it turns out, did anyone else that wasn’t open. I found that odd, since Mazda uses similar versions of that 1.8 litre mill in other cars, and due to the economy of scale, would likely share as many parts with other cars as possible. As it turns out, after having asked around at my friendly, local junkyard when I got back, that alternator is only used in the Miata, and only in 1999-2000 model years. Similar is not identical, I guess.
So I called home. I was beginning to despair and feel panicky. I didn’t want to pause my trip here. I wanted to spend all of Tuesday relaxing at home, not continuing to drive. I told my parents of our situation and tried to figure out what to do. I determined that we should just get a motel and make an attempt to locate the part tomorrow, or failnig that, rent a tow dolly the next day and have them tow us back. There was a nice eatery close by and I could see several motels from where we stood in the parking lot. I also knew of a nice place near where I used to live in Lively. There was even a liquor store in this plaza. I’d planned to make the best of things; I could get some booze, have a bite to eat, get a room, get wasted and fornicate with my lovely wife in a place that was vaguely familiar at least. But this is Sudbury, quite possibly one of the most hostile places I’ve ever been.
To recap, since I left in 1986 or 87, I’ve never really had a good experience being back, or doing anything there. Meghan had a job interview with Rainbow District School Board one time, and we briefly considered moving there. We found only one place remotely suitable, and we got turned down from renting it. We had a flawless record with landlords and good job prospects, and we were turned down. By someone from Blind River no less, who knew me at least by reputation. Maybe that was why. Fucking cunt. While we were there, we had huge issues with Bell gouging us for using credit cards to make phone calls from pay phones rather than burning a zillion minutes on the cell phone. We were camping while househunting to keep costs down because the cheapest motels were 75$ a night, and they were all full. While camping, we had our tent stolen. Yes, fucking stolen. So we had to sleep in the car on the last night (which, with the back seat folded down and our feet in the trunk, was surprisingly comfy). The brakes on the car also decided to fail that trip, and it was by sheer luck that a Midas was able to fix it same-day. Any of the times we’ve stopped there to eat while passing though have been half-assed at best. We once went there to test drive a car (a Subaru WRX), and while on the test drive, the salesman called the police because we’d been gone too long in his estimation. Asshat.
Suffice to say, my plan epic failed. There were literally no vacancies in the entire city. None. I called every place in the book, and none of them had a room for the night, or just weren’t answering (probably for that reason). As it turns out, Sudbury is always full to the brim with out-of-town contractors. They’re a very progressive city, always building, building, building. They’re also working on extending Highway 400 all the way to Sudbury, which is a huge project. It’s really no surprise that every motel and hotel is booked solid. So, we needed a new plan, since sleeping in the car in the parking lot was not an option. We called my parents back, and asked if they would come get us. Sudbury is probably at the edge of the range where that is at all practical. They agreed to get us, and left immediately. We went to Buzzy Brown’s and had a bite to eat while we waited. I had a tasty, if oddball burger and possibly some of the worst coffee in history. We then waited the rest out at the Tim Hortons. That was a creepy enough experience; the parking lot was full of hooligans and loitering locals, pretty clearly up to no good. It made me start to fear for the safety of leaving the car here overnight, not to mention us sitting there for four hours.
Long story short we made it home, but I was pretty tired by the time that happened. It was after 4am by the time I was in bed. Good thing I took that extra day off to recover. I planned to spend it hunting down a part, driving to Sudbury, putting it in and driving back. That wasn’t in the stars either. Nobody had one, and we were not going to leave the car overnight again. We tried a convoluted plan of having the Mazda dealer in Sudbury cut a key from the VIN and bring it to their shop so they could just fix it, but by the time I found out this plan didn’t work, it was getting late in the day again. Meghan located a cheap tow dolly rental, and Dad and I hit the road at about 3 or 4. It was going to be another late night.
We made it there at around sundown, only to discover that the dolly’s straps were too big to fit the Miata’s tiny wheels. We clamped them down as best we could, and augmented that with some locking tiedown straps bought from the conveniently located Canadian Tire. ‘Good enough’ would have to do. We got in at about 2am, and again, I wasn’t in bed until about 4, so this morning I called in to work to say I wasn’t going to be there. I am still really burnt out from the road; it’s a safety issue. I could easily kill/injure myself or others at work if my mind isn’t on track. That’s not a chance I want to take.
My boss was pretty pissed off. I won’t be fired over this, I don’t think, but there’ll be hell to pay. My best bet is to go in tomorrow, nice and early, and give it my best. When he talks to me about it, I just have to try my best to explain, to make him see things from my perspective. Would he have left his 1970 Chevelle SS (the car of his dreams, the one he’s owned since he was 17) there overnight again, at the mercy of the hooligans of an unfriendly city? I hope he sees reason. To him it’s just a Miata, but to my dad, and to myself, the car represents a family project, a focus for bonding. It’s just a used Miata, far from perfect, but to us it’s special, and if he doesn’t understand that, then too damned bad.
On a positive note, Opeth rocked hard, and I snapped some lovely pics of the Grey county wind farm on the way by. Maybe I’ll even get the ambition to post some. Hahaha.
Posted by Ron as Fire-in-a-can, Home Sweet Home, Music, Work at 1:56 PM EDT