165/80 R15

Parenthood brings about many changes in one's personal "philosophies". For instance, Melissa doesn't stay out all night dancing like she used to. One thing that's different for me is my thinking about tires.

In the olden days, to me a good tire was one that fulfilled two conditions: (1) it was cheap (preferable free); (2) it held air. My thinking was somewhat shaken one day around milemarker 112 on I-15 in Nevada, when the tire on Ludwig under my seat gave up the ghost, having previously sat flat for over ten years. (As if to drive the point home, the next day the tire under my younger brother's seat departed this mortal coil while driving over Cajon Pass.) Even though we put all new tires on Ludwig, I'm not sure my old ideas were entirely dislodged until E came around. Now, the tires Gertrude had on her at purchase fulfilled (1) and (2) above, though the passenger's front was shaky on (2). But with a little kid in the car, it seemed time to do the grown up thing and get new tires.

And when was the last time these wheels were off anyway? This is the result of one lug bolt's obstinance...

...and this is another. After I ran out of 19mm (3/4") sockets, I took it to a tire place where they proceeded to break two of their sockets--Snap-On, no less--getting the bolts loose.

While I was waiting, a guy who seemed like a customer but who was behind the desk told me his great ACVW story (everyone who's owned an ACVW has had encounters like this): "Yeah, I used to have one of those. I had a '60 Beetle, too. I got it in '63. I took it up Trail Ridge Road [the road over the summit of Rocky Mountain National Park, in Colorado] and couldn't get over the top. So I made a u-turn and grabbed a rock from beside the road. I pointed the car back uphill, put the rock on the gas pedal, put it first gear, got out, and pushed it with one hand on the steering wheel until the road flattened out. Then I hopped back in, tossed out the rock, and went down the mountain." Awesome.

So there Gertie sits on stands, in the now off-limits-to-Tater-Tot garage, while her wheels are blasted and powder coated, and then fitted with some new tires.

311 906 051E

This afternoon I was able to overcome my entirely unfounded terror and replace Gertie's manifold pressure sensor. It's a thingie that tells her brain how much vacuum the engine is developing (viz., how hard it's working) so the brain can then tell the injectors how much gas to spray. Bosch changed them almost every year of f.i. Type III production (1968-1973), so it was hard to track down the right one. 

This one is bad--see the "X"? I did that. I get confused sometimes.

There's the "new" one installed, that grayish thing with the black hose (Fuel injection! So many hoses!) coming into it from the right. Sorry I don't have a picture of it out but that's the way things go sometimes. Gertrude's stutter/stumbling, formerly pronounced at certain lower- and mid-rpm ranges, has now disappeared altogether. I had Melissa drive her to make sure I wasn't dreaming and she declared that Gertie now ac/decelerates as smooth as buttah. Hopefully this cures her terrible city mileage as well.

Ah, memories

I came across this photo today on the Samba. The guy must've hit some ice, and then did "1.5" flips across the road. According to the OP, they basically righted it and drove away. It reminds me of this story (from this blog, July 2006):

One cold winter day in 1991, years before Mitch and Melissa were to meet, McDonald and Mitch were driving the bus [viz., Ludwig] to a trailer court north of Norfolk, Nebraska on Highway 81 to check out a VW Beetle McDonald was thinking about buying. Standing near the highway towered a billboard for the new Bud Dry beer, a picture of a Bud Dry bottle layed on its side with the text "Try Bud Dry" written sideways next to the image. Like a couple of dorks, they both tilted their heads 90 degrees in order to read it. Upon straightening their necks, they noticed that the forward motion of the bus didn't match the centerline of the vehicle--they were sliding a bit sideways. Mitch helplessly watched McDonald try to compensate, turning the oversized horizontal steering wheel for all it was worth (remember: no power steering!). The bus slid back the other direction, and directly into the lane of oncoming traffic. After slipping back and forth across the lanes a couple more times, the bus turned sideways with the passenger-side leading and slid off the opposite shoulder. As the bus slowed down it felt as though it might just slowly come to a halt, but instead it kind of stopped and fell over at the same time. Mitch looked up to see McDonald clutching the door pull in an attempt to keep from falling on top of him; neither of them were wearing seatbelts. They climbed up out of the bus through the driver's side door and surveyed the scene. They'd nearly clipped a road sign, not to mention oncoming traffic. Some guy from Minnesota who'd watched the whole event pulled up to see if they were alright. He gave them a ride to McDonald's Grandpa's house where they tried to hire a towtruck, a difficult and time-consuming ordeal given that it was early Sunday evening. About three hours of phone calls later, they finally pulled up to the scene of the accident in the towtruck, but the vehicle had vanished. The impressions from the tipped bus were clearly marked in the snow, but the bright orange Volkswagen was nowhere to be seen. McDonald called the Pierce county sheriff (they were about 200 yards within the Pierce county line) and was immediately read the riot act for leaving the scene of an accident. Apparently the local police department, fire deptartment and even an ambulance had arrived at the scene not long after they'd gone for help. Since no people were found at the scene the camper was impounded. McDonald had to wait an entire week before he could get it out of hock. The only evidence of the crime was a fresh crease on the sliding door and some minor scrapes, but otherwise it was fine.

Sorry about the rerun, but it seemed appropriate.