Time to break up the mid-winter doldrums with an update on the little piece of crap (the Fiat 850).
As those of you who follow this blog know, the car's been in the shop for a couple of months now, having a head gasket changed, electrical system sorted out, tires put on, and the usual silly stuff that comes along with owning one of these cars.
So about two weeks ago I get a call from Moe at the shop, the car is done, and it 'runs like a top'. Fortunately, Tommy is off from work for the Christmas break, so he drives over and gives me a lift to the shop. We get there, and Ike, the mechanic, meets us, takes us over to the car and starts it up. Gotta admit, the engine does sound good, running nice and smooth, no coughing or roughness, it's gonna be fun to take it home. So I pay the bill, fold myself up and get in the car, and get ready to go. Push in the clutch, find reverse, and.....damn, the clutch pedal doesn't come back up, it's sitting on the floor. Out of reverse, fiddle with the pedal, back into reverse, and the clutch pedal sits on the floor. Can't possibly drive it this way. Out of the car, over to Moe, and give him the news. He says, "yeah, the clutch has been very slow to come back up since it got cold; just put your toe under the pedal and pull it back up when you shift.". Yeah, right. I'm gonna try and squish my size 13 shoe underneath a tiny clutch pedal, in an area made for people with size 6 shoes every time I go to shift the damn car? Nope, not gonna happen. I happily tell Moe to just keep the car and put in a new clutch. Tommy and I drive away somewhat frustrated, but satisfied knowing that with a new clutch, it's one less thing to worry about later on.
Two weeks go by, and on Friday I get a call from Moe, the car is done, and it 'runs like a top'. I call Billy, who pretty much has some free time on Fridays, and ask him to run me up to the shop. He comes over, we drive up to the shop, and Ike again meets us and cranks up the car. It still sounds good, I pay for the clutch work, squeeze into the car, push the clutch in, find reverse, and.....the pedal stays on the floor, and does not come up. I try again, several times, but it still isn't right. I get Ike over, and he says, "just take your foot off the clutch, give it some gas, and it'll slowly come up." So I try that...and it stalls. Try it again, it stalls again. Several more times, same result. Out of the car I go, and tell Ike, it isn't right, the pedal isn't coming up, you have to fix it, it can't be safely driven like this. He apologizes and says he'll get right on it. Billy and I leave, disappointed, but resigned to the fact that I'm not going to take the car until it works correctly.
Fast forward to yesterday, Saturday. Karen and I are out poking around at Tanger Outlets in Deer Park when my phone rings. It's Moe from the shop. They found the problem with the car, the pedal return spring has snapped. It was working properly when they put the new clutch in, but must have broken between that time and when I came to pick the car up. He assures me that the clutch is fine, and the car 'runs like a top'. Karen and I finish up shopping, and she drives me to pick the car up. We get to the shop, Ike comes out, apologizes for making us come back again. No problem I tell him, so long as the thing is fixed. He assures me it is. We open the car, I get in and start it up, and push the clutch in - and it pops back out just like it should, it's fixed! I thank him, and let Karen know I'm going to go around the block before we start for home, so I can get the feel of actually driving the thing. Remember, I sold my 850 in the fall of 1974, so it's been 42 years since I drove one of these things on the road. Off we go, around the block, and out onto Main Street in Port Washington. Make the right on to Port Washington Boulevard, and we're on the way home. The car is running well, although it has a lot less pep than I remember my original one having. Going up the hills through Port I have to downshift and really gas it to keep the speed up. Down the road we go, approaching St. Francis hospital, and all is well; or so it seems.
Suddenly, there's a loss of power, the car won't accelerate when I give it gas, it stumbles and seems as if it's going to stall. I pull over to the side, try several times to get it to go, but it's not cooperating. I stop, and slowly gas the engine until it's running happily at around 3,000 rpm. It seems better, so off we go.
Up the hill past Northern Boulevard, and it happens again, only this time I can't smooth it out. The thing is barely moving, and we're on a road where folks speed regularly. I manage to get the car into the parking lot at Christopher Morley Park, where it stalls and cannot be restarted. Fortunately, Karen has been following me, so I'm not 'stuck'.
I call the shop, and get Ike on the phone; he cannot believe the car died on me. I tell him I'm leaving it there, that he should pick it up, take it back, and fix the damn thing, get in Karen's car, and off we go.
My phone rings, it's Ike, he suggests that perhaps the car is simply out of gas (the gauge doesn't work properly) and that it might just need a fill. He offers to bring some gas out if I'll wait for him, so I agree.
15 - 20 minutes later he arrives with his helper and a can of gas. We gas the car, and the engine starts. Let it run a few minutes, it sounds okay, but before we leave, Ike suggests running it around the parking lot just to make sure it's safe to drive.
I hop in, and off I go. Up the parking lot, turn around, back to where we were, up the other side of the lot and.......it stalls. And won't restart. Ike and his helper come over, and now the damn thing won't fire up. They check the wiring; the carb; the fuel filters; not sure what it is, but they think it's a fuel issue. Ike tells me to leave the car, they'll get it taken back to the shop and get to work on it. I get in Karen's car, and we go home.
So....the more things change, the more they stay the same. It's 1972-1974 all over again, and I'm stuck with a dead Fiat someplace along the road. A scene, I must admit, which had been played out way too many times over the course of the 850 and the two 124's I owned back in the day. But now, at least, I'm not dependent on the car for my daily transport as I was back then. I can relax with the knowledge that I have good, reliable daily drivers to use while this thing is in the shop. And there's no rush to get the car back, as I wouldn't be using it frequently in the winter; it is, after all, a real 'summer' car. Small consolation, I guess, just part of the daily frustration that owners of these 'classic' Fiats face.
As they used to say on the radio and television, "Stay tuned for more"!
