09 July 2009

Stuff ...

Limey Steel ...

Yes, we have a customer with a '54 MG. Good God is it rough, and a royal pain in the ass to work on (think 65 years of rust), but cool to toodle around town in.

And one of my favorite rides, a late model Jaguar S-Type 'R'. Fast as hell and handles like a dream while you feel like you're sitting on a plush leather couch.

Yes, that says "supercharged"

By the way, the huge aluminum brake calipers are so light, they weigh less than the two brake pads inside 'em.

Got change for a Quattroporte ...

This is one beautiful piece of Guinea Iron (2007 Maserati Quattroporte) with a story behind it that has a moral.

Seems the customer bought this car a couple months ago off the Internet for a high-5-figure price tag, sight unseen (pics only). Imagine his surprise when, last week, the dashboard advises him of a transmission failure (Tiptronic) with only 15K on the clock. No problem, you say, take it to the dealer and heave 'em fix it under warranty. Well, seems Maserati and Ferrari are pretty particular about transferring warranties. They don't like people selling their late model cars as 'used cars'. Guess what? They informed him the warranty is void. Heh ... Now he gets to pay me to fix it. By the way, the dual disc clutch pack alone is $2500.

Moral: Never buy an exotic car (or hotrod) off the intarwebs unless you or someone you trust can physically go and see it and drive it.

Another story related to this car. The Ferrari/Maserati dealer we used to use for parts (Ferarri of Glen Cove) went out of business. So now, instead of driving a mile and a half, we have to go to Ferrari of Long Island which, fortunately, I pass on my way home.

So, the other day on the way home, I stop in to get all our account and resale paperwork set up with their parts department and pick up the parts I need for the Quattroporte. Now, I've never been in there but I've seen the building a million times so I pull in a space and head for the front door. As I'm walking up, I look through the glass and I see this huge marble atrium and the only thing in it is this huge marble desk with a hot woman sitting at it and a security guard standing next to her.

By the time I got the front door open, the security guard was on me. "What do you want?" He says. Mind you, I'm coming from work so I'm dirty, wearing a ball cap, uniform shirt - open with a dark blue 'wife beater' underneath - BDU pants, and combat boots.

I ignore him and walk up to the babe behind the desk. "I'm looking for the parts department," I tell her.

"Well, that wouldn't be in this building," she says, and I can see her turning up her nose at whatever it was I was spooged with last before I left the shop. "That's three buildings up the block. This is the showroom."

"Excuse me," I said, tipping my sweaty hat to her. "Thank you." I gave the guard an evil look before heading out, thinking if I went home, showered and got into one of my three-piece British suits and went back, she and the guard would have thrown their backs out trying to bend down to kiss my ass. Fuck 'em both; ain't buying no Ferrari.

The Prince of Darkness lives ...

So I get this 10 year old Jaguar in with a steady miss in #1, plus random misfires throughout. I ohm out the #1 coil and I find the resistance is a little high after determining I had a signal from the processor.

I check the computer and see the car has about 60K on the plugs, so I yank the coil to check their condition. I pull the coil out and what do I see? Jaguar ain't learned shit over the past 50 years.

After seeing that little sticker, I ordered 6 new coils. Heh ...

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