cagedbunny
New member
- Joined
- May 24, 2021
This thread will be a long-term one, but I'll do my best to keep up with it, and keep the pictures coming as things progress.
Part 1: The long-winded backstory!
Bought a silver '84 242 GLT Turbo car from a forum member here, and absolutely fell in love with it. It needed some help due to some.. questionable work that was performed on it, but I quickly undid some hackery (I thought I found/fixed all the hackery, but alas..) and began driving/enjoying the car daily.
The car had some dangerously put together suspension, a few areas of terrible wiring, and amongst several other faux pas, the lug nuts were all on backwards It needed a clutch almost immediately, but was straight, solid, and with the aforementioned items addressed, drove very well. It rapidly climbed to a tie at the top of my ownership list for "Favorite Vehicle Ever Owned"; no small feat after over 150 cars.
The car developed a misfire under load, which I tracked down to the wrong fuel hose being used for the in-tank pump (non-submersible fuel hose.. more shoddy work.) When I removed the pump, I noted that the fuel feed line was just *barely* on the barb for the pump itself. "No prob" I thought to myself, "I'll seat it properly when I re-install the pump." And so I did.
And so was the mistake.
The botched job I had not yet noticed? For reasons unknown, a previous owner replaced the hard metal fuel line under the car with a rubber line from the fuel pump, tight against the body, alllll the way forward to the fuel filter at the cowl.. With little-to-no slack. When I pulled the line onto the fuel pump to seat it, it stressed the connection up front at the fuel filter.
I drove the car for ~ 45 minutes that morning, and it ran the best it ever had; simply flawless, great power, no flat-spots, no surging.. beautiful.
I took the car out to meet friends for dinner, hopped on the highway and was steady cruising at 70mph when.. I felt my shin getting wet. "What the hell?" I look down, and fuel is running down the hood release cable, spraying the floor, underside of the dash, carpet, and my left leg. I clutched in, rolled up the next exit, through the first light while killing the ignition, and came to a stop. Maybe two seconds later, I felt and heard the car get rear-ended. Sound of crunching metal, my head getting whiplashed back and forward. I think "you gotta be f-ing kidding me" as I turn my head to see.. no one behind me. Instead, in my periphery, flame rolls from near the pedals, up and over the top of the dash. The car had just exploded in flames due to the fuel leak. I bailed out (took my keys, thankfully, though no recollection of doing so), ran to the passenger side and emptied the glovebox. Took one last hard look inside to see if there was *anything* else I could save.. then walked away.
A tow-truck driver happened to be right across from the intersection where it happened, and was on the car immediately with a sizeable fire bottle. Zero effect. I could hear the fuel still spraying under pressure under the hood, and knew the car was a goner. I stood by and watched it go up, and eventually, out with the work of the fire department.
I walked to dinner.
I ate a bacon-wrapped filet mignon.
I tasted nothing.
::sadness envelopes::
Part 1: The long-winded backstory!
Bought a silver '84 242 GLT Turbo car from a forum member here, and absolutely fell in love with it. It needed some help due to some.. questionable work that was performed on it, but I quickly undid some hackery (I thought I found/fixed all the hackery, but alas..) and began driving/enjoying the car daily.
The car had some dangerously put together suspension, a few areas of terrible wiring, and amongst several other faux pas, the lug nuts were all on backwards It needed a clutch almost immediately, but was straight, solid, and with the aforementioned items addressed, drove very well. It rapidly climbed to a tie at the top of my ownership list for "Favorite Vehicle Ever Owned"; no small feat after over 150 cars.
The car developed a misfire under load, which I tracked down to the wrong fuel hose being used for the in-tank pump (non-submersible fuel hose.. more shoddy work.) When I removed the pump, I noted that the fuel feed line was just *barely* on the barb for the pump itself. "No prob" I thought to myself, "I'll seat it properly when I re-install the pump." And so I did.
And so was the mistake.
The botched job I had not yet noticed? For reasons unknown, a previous owner replaced the hard metal fuel line under the car with a rubber line from the fuel pump, tight against the body, alllll the way forward to the fuel filter at the cowl.. With little-to-no slack. When I pulled the line onto the fuel pump to seat it, it stressed the connection up front at the fuel filter.
I drove the car for ~ 45 minutes that morning, and it ran the best it ever had; simply flawless, great power, no flat-spots, no surging.. beautiful.
I took the car out to meet friends for dinner, hopped on the highway and was steady cruising at 70mph when.. I felt my shin getting wet. "What the hell?" I look down, and fuel is running down the hood release cable, spraying the floor, underside of the dash, carpet, and my left leg. I clutched in, rolled up the next exit, through the first light while killing the ignition, and came to a stop. Maybe two seconds later, I felt and heard the car get rear-ended. Sound of crunching metal, my head getting whiplashed back and forward. I think "you gotta be f-ing kidding me" as I turn my head to see.. no one behind me. Instead, in my periphery, flame rolls from near the pedals, up and over the top of the dash. The car had just exploded in flames due to the fuel leak. I bailed out (took my keys, thankfully, though no recollection of doing so), ran to the passenger side and emptied the glovebox. Took one last hard look inside to see if there was *anything* else I could save.. then walked away.
A tow-truck driver happened to be right across from the intersection where it happened, and was on the car immediately with a sizeable fire bottle. Zero effect. I could hear the fuel still spraying under pressure under the hood, and knew the car was a goner. I stood by and watched it go up, and eventually, out with the work of the fire department.
I walked to dinner.
I ate a bacon-wrapped filet mignon.
I tasted nothing.
::sadness envelopes::