As I write this, I’m sitting in the back of Grumpy, a Chevy Astro AWD van driven by Aaron, one of this year’s rally marshalls, towards New Orleans. It’s a pretty comfortable ride. I’ve got my Acer netbook tethered to the Droid giving a solid 3G data feed, much as I have on previous days when Simon was driving the Stanzawagon.
Stanzawagon is past tense, now. Last night, it took three tries to get it started to drive from the rally hotel to our hotel. I thought little of it. This morning, it cranked and cranked but wouldn’t start.
Diagnosis this time: no fuel. Reason: electrical fault within the fuel pump. I could measure 12 volts at the fuel pump with the key in the “on” position, so it was reasonable to assume the pump was to blame. So we bought a pump, $116 with tax at Napa Auto Parts in Gadsden, Alabama.
With the new pump hooked up (it’s an externally-mounted pump, not so bad to deal with), we tried again, and… nothing. So we hot-wired the pump. Positive lead to the always-on lead that the non-existent radio would have used, negative lead to a cigarette lighter plug. This gave us a 5 amp fuse plus a way to turn the pump off (pull the plug).
Even with the pump running and fuel definitely making it up to the fuel rail, it still wouldn’t start. I was disheartened to say the least, and it was 2:00pm and we were keeping Aaron and his dad (Jim) from New Orleans.
“We did everything within our power to resuscitate the patient, but she did not survive the ordeal. Our thoughts are with your family.”
(Aside: We just now passed another beige Stanzawagon dead on the side of the road. I think they’re all dying this week.)
I informed the hotel of my plans to salvage the car responsibly, and the guy at the desk said it would be okay. I’ve made two calls to local salvage yards to come get it; they’ve both said “we’ll call you back if we’re interested.”
There’s the story. RIP Nissan Stanza wagon, beige, FWD, automatic, 1986-2010. She didn’t even make it to antique status.
