engine and drivetrain Final Installment of The Flight of the Turkey

[thehackmechanic]

The Hack Mechanic Online               By Rob Siegel                       4-23-2015

 

The Flight of the Turkey

Part 6

Last week, The Turkey was on the block. The auction block, that is. I’d set it up as a no-reserve auction with a $200 starting bid, and clear wording, in big bold text, that if the final bid exceeded $1500, the car’s front grilles and kidney would be included, but would be excluded if the bidding stalled short of that. This was my way of trying to prop up the car’s value as a whole running package, as well as some good old fashioned economic self-interest (I could easily sell the set of grilles on eBay for north of $300).

 

The auction generated a lot of attention, receiving nearly 4900 page views (and if you’re curious, you can still see it by searching eBay for item number 131478363140), but for nearly a week, bidding was stalled at around $700. As with many auctions, most of the action was in the final moments. With less than 30 seconds to go, the bids came in, and in the last five seconds, the final 31^st bid edged the price across the grille line to $1525. I looked at the winner’s address. He was local to Massachusetts, which, to me, meant that the sale was highly likely to be completed. I spoke with the buyer later that day and learned that he has two other 2002s and a couple of MGs. Nice fellow.

 

The buyer came by the next day to pay me and inspect his purchase. I gave him the walk-around tour, then hopped in The Turkey and turned the key. The car started instantly, as it had been doing for me for weeks. He smiled broadly.

 

The next morning (and I mean the very next morning), in what might be the ultimate act of automotive two-timing, I took the wad of cash to the machine shop that has had my Lotus engine for a year and a half. I was convinced that while the money was in the house, every BMW on the property could smell it and expected its piece of it.

 

And so ends the tale of The Turkey. I’ll miss its perky round tail lights greeting me every day when I get home from work. — Rob Siegel

 

 

 

Wait a minute. Wait just a god damned minute. That’s it? That’s your ending? You milk us for six Roundel Online articles with the teaser title The Flight of the Turkey, intentionally echoing the movie The Flight of the Phoenix (the classic one with Jimmie Stewart and Richard Attenborough, not the Dennis Quaid Ray Ban sunglasses product placement ad remake), shamelessly invoking the resurrection of a mechanical entity against enormous odds, and then you never actually drive the damned car?! Crikey, Siegel, you didn’t crash it in the Sahara and need to shorten the god damned wings, but jeez Louise.

 

Yeah, well, okay, so, here’s where I go into my little risk speech. I used to do all sorts of stupid things. I used to routinely swap license plates between nearly identical 2002s and drive them around like it was nothing. I serially purchased badly mechanically compromised cars and drove them home bereft of registration or insurance, or common sense for that matter. No more. I’m a responsible guy. I’m a homeowner with something to lose. The downside is simply too great. Something could go wrong, someone could sue me, and I could lose my house. The Turkey has a detached right rear subframe mount and a right shock tower that looks like it’ll bust through if you even think about hitting a pothole. It’s uninsured and unregistered. And a Newton police officer lives at the end of my street. Nice young man, has a tricked-out Volvo and a sweet looking Audi A6, but, still, if he sees me driving The Turkey, a poster child for should’ve known better, he’s got to do something about it, right? We don’t want to do anything stupid now, do we?

 

That’s the thing about risk. We all take risks all the time, but hopefully they’re not stupid risks. Hopefully we take them for good reasons, measured against some reward. I nursed The Turkey to the point where it started, ran, and moved in my driveway. I could truthfully portray it as a running car. It could be loaded onto a trailer when purchased. Those were the goals. I accomplished them. What was there to be gained by driving it on a public road? If it died, I’d have a problem. If it died and I got busted for driving a paperless car, I’d have a bigger problem. And if the rear suspension broke loose and I careened into something or someone and damaged person or property.... no. Just no. No, no, no, no, no.

 

No.

 

Well, maybe once.

 

Just before the auction closed, I felt compelled, for the good of The Turkey, to show it driving, to let it dip its feet into public asphalt, as part of the auction. Maybe it’s its claws, not its feet. Damn, it’s hard to keep these Turkey-related metaphors on track. But, still, I didn’t want to do anything truly stupid. So, under cover of darkness, I backed it out of my driveway and continued, in reverse, perhaps 200 feet up my street, then edged forward. It was just enough distance to get the car into second gear before pulling back into the nest. I held the iPhone during the maiden voyage, put the video up on Youtube (you can find it at https://youtu.be/1LQ0iUhqpsI, or, if the link is down, search for “1973 BMW 2002 The Short Flight of The Turkey”), and linked it to the auction.

 

There, I thought. I did it. I checked off the box of actually showing the car as drivable. Done.

 

Lame, lame, lame, lame, LAME! It was so lame that exceeded some internal lameness threshold that trumped my internal risk threshold. Something inside me said this shall not stand.

 

So, after the auction had closed, after the car was bought and paid for, when not only was there nothing to be gained by driving it but something actually to be lost (if the car was no longer in the condition it was when purchased, I’d have some ‘splainin’ to do), in fact, just this morning, I let The Turkey take flight. A real flight. Once around the block. The Youtube link is https://youtu.be/H5hijUoTh0w. If the link doesn’t work, search Youtube for “1973 BMW 2002 The Flight of The Turkey.” You’ll see that, at one point, I stop and make a quick three-point turn. This was so I didn’t drive past the police officer’s house at the end of the street (I mean there’s risk, and then there’s risk). You also may see that, at one point, the driver’s door swung open because I hadn’t quite closed it. Risk! Adventure! As the B52s said, “doesn’t that make you feel a whole lot better?” And, actually, it did.

 

Hey, it was a real drive—the first the car has had in at least six years, probably much longer. I even got it briefly into 3^rd gear.

 

And so, with my conscience clear, with my foolish little risk allocation satisfied, with The Turkey having flown the coupe (heh), we can now move on to more consequential matters having to do with the continuing mechanical resurrection of The Shark. Beginning next week, my 26 part series: Why Do I Never Learn Lessons About Being an Impatient Cheapskate And Wind Up Having To Fix Things Three Times? — Rob Siegel

 

 

 

Got a question for Rob Siegel, the Hack Mechanic? You can find him in the BMW CCA Forums here!

 

Rob’s book Memoirs of a Hack Mechanic is available through Bentley Publishers, Amazon, and Bavarian Autosport—or you can get a personally inscribed copy through Rob’s website: www.robsiegel.com.

 

[chadley]

Well done!  I could see the grin on your face as you drove through the neighborhood.  By the way, you're a much better writer than a videographer, just sayin'

[dbmw2002]

Yea she loves me for my BMW because it sounds like a John Deere tractor you never even notice how small the car you're driving is until the Ford three-quarter ton comes right down the road straight at you. Swear if these were circus cars you could only fit 7 clowns Into one. great video