Coiled Again

10/29/16

It’s been almost two months since the 912 left me stranded in the South Bay. It has been running but not running well.  At the time it quit running, I thought that the reason it stopped was  a loose wire on the coil because I got it running after I  jiggled the wire a day later after it had been towed to my house and the engine started, even though jiggling the same wire had not worked the day the engine quit.  Getting it to run did not fix the aberrant behavior of the tachometer, as it continued to swing wildly, nor did it erase the niggling suspicion I had that the engine was not running well, which frustrated me.

At first I was frustrated because I wanted to continue to drive the 912 to work a couple of days a week but did not feel comfortable doing so, even though I left the driveway in it a few times only to feel the niggling in my head and return home.  Then I was frustrated because I couldn’t get it looked at.  Then I was frustrated because I had to juggle too many cars in the driveway when Kimberly, my younger daughter, stayed over.  Then I was frustrated because I took it to my renegade Porsche breakfast and everyone concurred that it was running, or at least idling,  well, everyone but me that is.  Then I was frustrated because I found out I have to spend a boatload of money to get a good baseline analysis of the 912, something I had already done somewhere else.  Finally,  I was frustrated because I still thought the problem was electrical or fuel related, not engine related, and I did not think the baseline would find that.

Despite my mounting frustration and my feelings of impending doom every time I drove it, I have driven it sporadically over the past six weeks, most recently last Saturday when I drove it to Mel’s Diner for breakfast with my Los Angeles PCA buddies, my first appearance at a Los Angeles PCA event since the renegade group’s self imposed exile in February.  I was a little leery about taking the 912, not being completely confident that it would make it up Doheny all the way to Sunset.  It did.  Predictably, I just missed the light at Sunset, forcing me to stop at the signal.  I then had to use the emergency brake to prevent me from rolling back down the hill as I tried to turn right from a dead stop.  Of course, I was embarrassed, having driven a manual transmission enough years to know how to just dump the clutch and get the car going forward without rolling backwards on all but the steepest grades.

After arriving at breakfast with no further incidents, I started to feel like maybe the car worked okay and all the niggles in my head were false alarms. Then I left breakfast, which was actually lots of fun, and headed down the hill, figuring it would be the easy part of the drive.  It was, but I noticed that the engine was stuttering as I was driving down the hill.  Not a good sign.  I ignored it, but the niggling started up in my brain again.  Drove to the market. Then drove home.  On the ride home the engine stuttered again.  I put it in the driveway, covered it and forgot about it for the remainder of the week.

Today I took the cover off and started it up again.  I was still convinced that problem was electrical or fuel related, and I was going to test my theory.  I was prepared.  My VW guru, Dilthon, had emailed me coil testing procedures using an ohmmeter.  I had had an electronics class in high school, some forty-something years ago, so I vaguely remembered what an ohmmeter was and how to use it.  Of course, I do not currently have an ohmmeter, but Andy, who sits next to me at work, has one and brought it in for me to borrow.  I sat at my desk at home today and read the coil testing procedures.  I was okay with removing the wires and testing the resting resistance.  Then I got to the part about making it spark and needing another person to help me, and I said, “F**k this.  I am going for a drive instead.”  Big mistake.

I did not have ambitious plans.  I thought I would just drive around in a four square block area around my house.  Excellent idea.  So off I went.  I made it about three laps, and I was just about to start the fourth when disaster struck.  The 912 just stopped running.  Deja vu, I thought.  I was still convinced that my wire jiggling fixed the problem last time.  So I was pretty confident that when the 912 stopped running right around the corner from my house I would just jiggle some wires and the engine would start.  Easy.  Wrong.  I jiggled the wire that I thought was the culprit.  I sat in the driver’s seat and turned the key.  Nothing.  I went back and jiggled more wires.  I sat back in the driver’s seat and turned the key again.  Nothing.  They say that expecting a different result from the same set of circumstances is a sign of insanity.  So I must have been insane because I jiggled the wires again and sat back down in the driver’s seat and turned the key.  Nothing.

I could see my house.  It was just around the corner, about 50 yards away.  I said  to myself, “No stress.  I will just push it.”  Then I realized it was on a subtle incline.  Maybe one degree, but I knew I couldn’t do it myself.  I walked home.  It took all of 30 seconds.  I rousted Kim, who was over for the weekend, off the couch and asked her to help me.  We walked back to the car.  She got in the driver’s seat.  I couldn’t help myself.  I guess my temporary insanity had returned.  I told her to try to start it while I jiggled the wires yet again.  Nothing.

I made sure the car was in neutral, positioned myself at the rear of the car, asked Kim to release the emergency brake, and pushed.  Nothing.  That was as effective as jiggling the wires, just a lot more tiring.  I told Kim to reset the emergency brake.  I figured I would walk to John’s house and get him to help, as I had seen his car in his driveway on one of my laps around the neighborhood.

It turned out that John was not there, having gone bicycle riding with Don, his brother in law.  But Kristin was there.  She was sick and watching football, but she was a trooper and I convinced her it would not be too difficult to push the car.  She agreed to help, and we walked back to the car and tried to push it.  This time it worked.  We got the car moving, made it to the stop sign, which was about 20 feet from where the 912 had been stopped, and then negotiated the left turn onto my street.  Then the car was able to coast on a slight downhill, enabling  Kris and I to stop pushing and allowing Kim to easily steer down the street and into my driveway.  There was just one problem.  The front of the driveway has an upslope, which was steep enough to stop the car before it made it all the way up on to the flat part of the driveway.  Kris and I tried to push it a few times.  It was futile, and the car would not budge.  The incline was too steep for us.  Apparently it was too steep for the emergency brake, too, as it was hard to keep the  car in place as we debated what to do.

I checked out my neighbors’ driveways, looking to see who was home and started to ring one’s doorbell when I noticed a stranger and his wife walking their dog up my street.  I recruited him to the cause, and with three of us pushing and Kim steering, we pushed it onto the flat part of the driveway.  Much to Kim’s chagrin, I had us stop before we got all the way up to the spot where the 912 would be parked, a spot far enough up the driveway that Kim and Pam could park behind it.  I thanked Kris and the stranger.  Before the stranger left, he and his wife complimented the 912, saying it was a beautiful car. I agreed.  Then the stranger said, “By the way, If you want to sell it, I know someone who would be interested.”  I told him I wasn’t interested in selling it.  He did make me fell better about owning it, though, despite the fact that it is a money abyss.  I bade goodbye to Kris and the stranger.  Kim was still concerned that I would not be able to push the 912 the rest of the way, but I told her not to worry, Pam would be home soon and she could help us if we needed it.

Then my temporary insanity returned.  So I jumped into the driver’s seat and tried to start the car.  It worked!  Proving that I was not insane for trying.  It also proved that the wires had nothing to do with the two times the engine had quit and that jiggling them had made no difference whatsoever, convincing me that the coil has been slowly failing, causing the car to run poorly and to sporadically stop running.  Letting the coil cool down must have enabled it to work well enough to start the car and keep it running for a while.

I will be buying a new coil and testing that theory next week.  Though it would have been smarter and easier to use it, I guess I really didn’t need the ohmmeter after all.  I will be bringing it back to Andy on Monday.