So a while back, I did a post about the death of my Saab 900 SPG via transmission explosion. It was a tragic event for me; so tragic in fact, that I went out and bought the antithesis of my beloved C900 Turbo: a Honda Accord. And while I’ve grown to love the Honda over the 14,000 miles or so I’ve put on it since August (seriously), I’ve come to realize that man cannot subside on VTECs alone.  In fact, ’tis a meager existence to merely pilot a vehicle like the Accord.  Since I’ve owned it, I’ve upgraded a few minor things to make it more to my liking (metal shifter bushings and a Comptech short shifter to fix the awful stock shift mechanism, and a 17mm Acura TL rear sway bar to reduce seasickness), it’s never going to be the sort of vehicle that makes your hair stand up, your friends smile, or random strangers approach you in a parking lot.

It’s also a vehicle that no joy can really be derived from.  Except for bragging about how low the running costs for a K-series powered Accord are, well – it’s a Honda, who cares?

Meanwhile, Ingrid the 1988 Saab 900 SPG languished at a nearby mechanic’s shop, getting dirtier and dirtier but no less fixed.  I was sitting on the edge.  Transmissions are hard to locate for C900′s (perhaps because they’ve all blown up?) and a rebuild was exhorbitantly expensive – especially including the cost of labor for engine/transmission removal and reinstallation.  So I sat on it.  Didn’t want to sell it for scrap and lose 90% of my investment, didn’t want to spend a ton of money and then sell it and lose most of my investment, etc.  Didn’t really want to sell it in the first place.  So I came to a conclusion: I’m going to fix the damn thing myself.

Dad, best friends, and Saab.

The issue here is that to remove the transmission, you also have to pull the engine.  The 900 is a fairly strange vehicle as far as the powertrain layout is concerned; the clif notes are that the engine and transmission are mounted longitudinally with the engine on top of the gearbox as one unit.  This means the whole unit comes out the top as one chunk, rather than tilting and sliding out like a normal engine.

Now, I’ve done a lot of mechanical work myself – water pump, thermostats, brakes, shocks, diverter valves, boost gauges, all sorts of stuff – but I’ve never pulled an engine.  Hell, I’ve never even touched an engine hoist before.  And while I’ve always approached mechanical issues with the idea that “I’ve never done this before, but hell, I got the directions,” an engine pull is a bit over my head.  Step one: find someone who’s doing the same thing, and help them with it.  Done.

This is my buddy Alan.  Alan is an SAE-certified Ford mechanic by day, and a horsepower guru by night.  His daily driver is a well-maintained but high-mileage Honda Prelude Type SH, and in his spare time he happens to be restoring… an Edwardian Grey 1988 Saab 900 SPG.  Weird.  Even weirder: it needs a gearbox rebuild!  Coincidences don’t get much more convenient than that!

Alan was a lot further along with his engine pull than me, but when I arrived it was still sitting in the engine bay, with the passenger-side axle still attached.  After some finangeling (loosening the mounts on the alternator tensioner, blocking up the passenger side control arms to unload the cv joints, removing the ignition coil), we got that sucker out.  He’s gonna need a new radiator fan shroud, but otherwise it’s no worse for the wear in the engine bay.

The next day, with my head full of ideas and inspiration, I began the disassembly process.  Step one: remove the hood.  Other necessary materials can be spotted on the roof: the Robert Bentley and Haynes Service manuals, and a pack of Camel Menthols.

After the hood comes off (2 bolts!) it’s time to drain the fluids.  Since the engine and transmission are coming out entirely, it’ll be nice to not have to deal with leaking fluids later.  The oil and coolant (drained out of the radiator and the hard-to-reach freeze plug under the exhaust manifold on the block) both looked healthy, but as suspected, the transmission oil was a different story.

I’m not sure how well you can see it in the picture, but there’s a fine layer of metal dust floating on top of the transmission lubricant – remnants of the support bearing on the primary transmission layshaft that spun itself to death a few months ago during an 18psi 2nd gear pull down my favorite back road.  This makes me quite sad.  Moving on…

After raising the car and planting it on jack stands (to drain the fluids), it’s more top-end disassembly, as well as some preparation for removing the axles.  When the car is sitting level, there’s no vertical force on the CV joints, but when the suspension is unloaded (such as when the car is in the air) there’s a downward force on them, making them really difficult to remove once unbolted.  The Bentley manual says “insert special Saab tool number blah blah blah into the frame under the upper control arm to hold it in place.”  Hey, I’m a creative guy.  I’m not going to buy an obsolete $20 tool just to prop up a control arm.  Wood does fine.

You can see a fine layer of grease sprayed on the shock on this picture – this is where I discovered another thing that’ll need fixing.  The outter CV boot is split all the way around, and actually coated the inside of the wheel as well as the brake rotor in nasty CV joint grease.  That bearing’ll need to be cleaned and repacked.  Hey, it’s easy when they’re already out, right?  At least the ball joints look to be in good shape.

The downpipe actually stays in the car when the engine comes out (although it’s more rotten than Libyan politics, so it’s getting replaced as well) so it’s easier to just remove the elbow that connects the turbo to the downpipe.  To avoid rounding off the nuts that press the elbow against the turbo, I soaked them with Liquid Wrench (PB Blaster works well, too) for about 20 minutes, finding a really tight socket, and giving the wrench a solid smack with a hammer to loosen them.  No broken studs or anything.  A narrow straight screwdriver in between the turbo and the elbow, pounded in with a hammer, gives you enough gap to leverage the elbow off the studs.  You can barely see the 02 sensor that plugs into the bottom of the elbow down there on the battery tray.  The battery will likely be relocated to the trunk later in this project for better weight distribution – as well as fixing the horrible spot it’s sitting in, getting heat soaked by the turbo.

Now it’s parts and connections removal time.  One thing I decided on early on here was that every connection, no matter how seemingly obvious, was being labelled at both ends. Bolts, fasteners, that sort of junk are all going in seperate, labelled zip-lock bags.  This will greatly decrease the Pain In The Butt Factor during reassembly.  Here you can see the upper radiator hose pulled off the thermostat housing, the cast aluminum charge pipes from the turbo ? intercooler and from intercooler ? throttle body removed, the intercooler itself out (as well as the duct), and paper towels stuffed in any entry point that would be better off without crudem© in it.  That intake pipe to the turbo was the next thing to come off, after fitting with the PCV fitting for a few minutes.

The great thing about pulling the engine on a Saab hatch: there’s a convenient parts-storage area located on the other end of the car.  Here you can see the intercooler (so small!), intake and MAF sensor, intake hose with PCV fitting, the two aluminum charge pipes above them, and the diverter valve hose and intercooler duct to the right.  And we’re just getting started…

What’s next in the pull?  Well, if the depressing rainy weather lets up around here, more top-end parts removal: fan shroud, radiator, ignition coil, and dealing with the dreaded “tapered pin from hell” – the pin that holds the shift linkage rod together.  I’ll also be discussing some future plans for what exactly is going back into this car, what’ll be coming out, and what the general direction for this project is.  Till next time!

(Ed’s note: I began work on this article a while before my Saab’s gearbox bought the farm and I gave up on the whole concept of daily driving an archaic European sports coupe for the time being.  For that “Saab” story (har har), just click here.)

Now, to be specific, I’m talking about Saabs with the Triumph-derived B and H motors, which means everything from the 1969 Saab 99 up to the 2008 Saab 9-5 Aero (yes, I’m serious, Saab really did use derivatives of this engine for that long.)  And while it changed quite a lot over it’s lifespan, there’s still a large amount of parts interchangeability with these cars, so I consider them to be somewhat one in the same.  And with a little bit of exhaust work, they sound absolutely amazing.

I’ve compiled a collection of YouTube videos to show you what I’m talking about.  I call it That Saab Sound.  Maybe “an ode to the turbo slant four” is better.  Anyhow, take a listen and see if you agree.  We’ll start with one you’re probably quite familiar with -- my car.

As far as Saab motors go, my car has what’s called the third-generation turbo engine.  The original 99 Turbo used the B-motor with a single-cam 8 valve head.  The ’81 900 Turbo received the H motor, which replaced the jackshaft-driven water pump with a belt-driven pump off the crank pulley, and the distributor was driven off the cam rather than geared off the crank for simplicity and reduced parasitic losses.  My car has the twin-cam 16v head that came online in ’86, as well as the APC system which controls maximum boost pressure according to fuel octane, knock sensor readings, and other parameters.  In this video, the car has a few simple modifications -- an open intake off the MAF sensor, a gutted catalytic converter (since replaced with a 200-cell high flow cat) and a Flowmaster muffler on the stock 2.5″ piping. Up next will be a new (non-rotted) downpipe and either straight pipes from the catalyst rearward, or a small glass-pack muffler if the straight pipe is too annoying.  Still, the staccato off-beat rumble of a Saab turbo is pretty nice.  But if that’s not loud enough for you, how about this?

When the description says “straight pipe,” this guy’s not kidding.  It’s 3″ (up from 2.5″) from the downpipe back, no catalytic converter, and no muffler to speak of.  It’s a 1990 but it’s still the same exact engine as my car (16v 2.0L Turbo) with Bosch LH-Jet 2.4 injection instead of 2.2.  I’d probably get tired of a setup like this after a week or so, but my god, it sounds good.  Just listen to that thing when he gets into boost!

Moving forward a bit on the Saab Engine timeline, this is a mid-90′s 9000 Aero 5-door (not stock, haha) on an autocross course.  This video could also be properly entitled “the effective traction limits of a front-wheel-drive chassis.”  The 9000 Aero used what Saab called the B234, which was a stroked-out H motor (2.3L instead of 2) with direct ignition, Trionic integrated engine management and boost control, balance shafts, and a much more modern Mitsubishi Heavy Industries TD04-15H-LT turbocharger in place of the laggy old-school Garret T3 turbochargers used on older 900 and 9000 Turbos.  They were seriously rapid cars even stock, and as you can see this one just has too much power to put down on an autocross (Gymkhana to you Europeans) course.  Still, mmm… that sound.

How about some big-turbo action?  This is an “NG” 900 (meaning it’s actually an Opel Astra underneath, being a 1994-1998 model with the transverse motor) but still has a Saab motor, in this case a B204L.  This one’s not stock either, the main ingredient being the Holset HX35 turbocharger off of a Dodge Cummins 5.9L 24v turbo-diesel truck engine.  For those not familiar, an HX35 is approximately the size of Rhode Island.  It’s a popular turbo setup for Saabs as most use exhaust manifolds flanged for Garrett T3′s or T25′s, and the HX35 uses a T3 flange, so with some compressor re-clocking it’ll bolt right on and easily make more boost than the internals or transmission can hope to handle.  This one’s making an alarming 392bhp at 18psi of boost… or about 200whp more than my car on the same psi.  Here’s another video of the same car doing a second gear pull.  I’d really like to have a car with the main limitation being violent roll-on wheelspin.  One day…

Many people are surely familiar with the Saab 9-3 Viggen, the hot-rod hatch the company made between 1999-2001.  They used the B235R, which was a further development of the big-turbo B234 used in the 9000 Aero.  This one’s using a Garrett GT30 turbocharger and tuned to run on E85 (ethanol) which has a much higher effective octane rating than regular petroleum gas.  412whp and 422lb-ft wtq is not too shabby for a 2.3L Saab running on corn juice.  This pull was made with the exhaust exiting at the downpipe, which is why it sounds remarkably like a PowerStroke diesel when it’s pulling into the GenuineSaab parking lot.  Absolutely nasty car.  Would love to take a spin in that…

Sadly, later Saabs switched over to GM-derived engines -- in fact the switch began in the mid 90′s with the V6 powered NG900 and 9000, and the 9-5 SE had a GM Europe V6 with a single turbo strapped to it.  The modern 9-3′s use a derivative of the EcoTec 4-cylinder family, and the new Turbo V6 is also a derivative of GM’s aluminum “high feature” twin-cam V6 family.  While they are far more modern engines, they really don’t have the distinctive, slightly crazy sound that old Saab turbos did.  More proof that time continues to march onward…

]]> http://www.carthrottle.com/that-saab-sound/feed/ 0 http://www.carthrottle.com/why-the-hell-am-i-driving-a-honda-accord/ http://www.carthrottle.com/why-the-hell-am-i-driving-a-honda-accord/#comments Mon, 06 Sep 2010 23:01:05 +0000 James http://www.carthrottle.com/?p=19420 Observe the intro image to this post.  That’s my key-carrying carabiner, with a modern Honda automobile key attached to it. As I write this post inside my home-away-from-home Starbucks coffee, there’s a 2007 Honda Accord sedan sitting outside which this key fits into the ignition switch of.  The title says “James Mackintosh,” and if you look closely you can see the faint outline of a “CarMax” sticker on the back of it.

…WHAT?!? Me? The constant preacher of the joys of old-car ownership?  The person who said “I’ll chew off my own foot before I own an OBD-2 car!!!”  Why do I, of all people, have the perfect example of car-as-transportation-appliance now?  Well, let me tell you.  It all started with a rattling noise…

About three weeks ago, I had taken my 1988 Saab 900 SPG to school and back -- about a 20 mile commute.  It behaved itself perfectly, as a car that’s had a mountain of maintenance money thrown at it should.  No funny noises, no weird smells, no hard starting or hunting idle or explosions.  Life was good.  On my afternoon Starbucks run (hey, I’m an addict, don’t judge me) I noticed it was making a strange rattling noise in 3rd gear.  The car had just been “straight piped” (had it’s muffler removed and replaced with welded tubing) and there was no hanger, so I assumed it was the exhaust rattling on the rear control arm.  Still, my worry grew when I noticed the noise was only occuring in third gear.

I’d heard the stories about Saab transmissions, and they weren’t good.  “Saab made the C900′s transmission out of hopes and dreams and puppie dog tails, because steel and aluminum were too expensive.”  “Don’t push more than 12 psi of boost if you like having a working transmission.”  Rumor has it these transmissions were designed for the approximately 100bhp a regular 900 put out, and Saab did exactly didly squat to beef them up for duty in the 900 Turbo.  Still, I wasn’t too worried -- I had a receipt from the previous owner that showed the car had a complete transmission rebuild at 130,000 miles, a scant 28,000 miles ago.  I changed the transmission fluid every 5,000 miles (one-half the regular recommended change interval) with the best synthetic MTL you can buy.  I didn’t slam gears, drop the clutch, or do anything dumb -- I knew the trans was a weak spot, so I babied it.  Sure, I was pushing 17psi of boost -- but it’s not that much, right?

You can see where this is going.  Myself and a group of local car buddies headed out later that  night on our regular “Tuesday Cruise,” a drive down local backroads at night in the gorgeous North Carolina weather.  Not a mile from where we started, the noise started getting worse.  I took a left turn in 2nd gear, got on the gas, and there was a noise that sounded like a hand grenade going off.  Followed by a noise that sounded like someone had tossed a handful of gravel into my transmission.  Not good.  This -- from the car I’d put almost it’s entire purchase price into preventative maintenance and repairs!  Arrrgh!

I had no gears.  The lever was moving but nothing was happening except more grinding noise and painful bouncing-gravel sounds.  I put on my flashers and coasted into the closest neighborhood.

“What happened, man?”

“I dunno.  I think it’s the transmission.”

“Sounds like you threw a rod, dude.”

“That’s gonna hurt.”

A mile from where we started, the adventure was over.  I waited and watched as Ingrid the SPG, my beloved Swedish Mistress, was pulled onto the back of a flat-bed tow truck -- again -- and had a revelation.  Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.  And I’d had enough.

You see, this car spent almost as much time on a tow truck as it did on a highway.  I’d fix one thing, and something else would blow up.  Hell, I’d  fix things before they broke and stuff would still blow up.  You’ve got to understand, I’m a student and I don’t have a lot of time or money to be left stranded on the side of the road in a cloud of smoke.  Something had to be done.

The next day, I called my mechanic -- the talented Eric Patterson at Patterson Performance Saab where I’d had the car towed.  The prognosis was just as bad as I thought.  The cluster bearing on the primary drive shift into the transmission was presently bouncing around inside the casing.  It was dead, 28,000  miles after it had been brought back to life.  “They all do this,” he consoled.  “They actually improved that bearing in the ’82 models.  Then again in the ’90 models when it kept happening.”

“How can this happen, Eric?  It’s not even 30k on this rebuild!”

He crossed his arms and shook his head.  The transmission was done -- it needed a full rebuild or a replacement.  Neither was cheap.  I was once again without a running car.

So while I waited for Eric to find a transmission -- not an easy task, considering they all blow up, and my particular 900 was third in line at his shop for one, I decided to acquire another car.  Not another 20 year old bucket of problems, but one that was pretty new.  A known quantity that I knew would get me to school and work for the foreseeable future.  A blue-chip investment, if you will.  My first thought: a Honda or Mazda.

So off to CarMax I went, in search of a JTA (Japanese Transportation Appliance) with a manual transmission.  Local searched turned up a handful: a Sonata with a 2.4 and 5-speed, a handful of Mazdas, and…  an ’07 Accord EX?  With a manual?  I’m interested.  I’ve always liked Accords.  They’re not the most exciting thing, but compared to their competition they’ve always been slightly more refined and less spiteful to drive.  This once was beige as could be -- English Tan outside, beige with fake wood trim inside -- but it had cruise, A/C, a slick 5-speed manual, and the highway mileage number was “34.”  On regular!  I was sold.

One major “ouch” on my college savings account later, and it was mine.  Only 33,031 miles on the clock, it still even had some of the “new car smell” left, and everything works. It’s a revelation.  The utter smoothness of every control and switch in this car must be felt to be believed, if you’re used to old worn-out relics from another decade.  The shifter isn’t obtrusive!  You can find whatever gear you want without crunching a synchro or guessing where fifth is!  The ball joints don’t click in pain when you reverse at full lock!  There’s no ominous creaking noise from the rear suspension!

Is it as exciting as Ingrid the 900 SPG?  Well, of course not.  It’s a four-cylinder Accord.  But the saying has always been “For every 30-year old Alfa Romeo in the garage, there’s an Accord in the driveway.”  I’ve come to the painful realization that you can’t have an old, turbocharged European oddity that you can’t find parts for as a daily driver unless public transportation near you is adequate (it isn’t) or you have a ton of money (I don’t.)

Will I miss the Saab?  Oh, absolutely.  I loved the Saab.  It was a part of me, a part of my identity as a person, a conversation starter and it put a smile on my face every time it started up.  Whether that’s because I was happy the damn thing started or because it was awesome is still open for interpretation.

So now I get to be part of the large population of car guys trapped in JTA’s.  But you know, when you roll the sunroof back, put the windows down, and blast your favorite CD (currently Jimmie’s Chicken Shack: Bring Your Own Stereo) on the sound system, life’s still good, because you’re still doing what you love to do: drive.

Will I get another project car somewhere down the line?  Oh, absolutely.  And it’s going to be even weirder than the Saab.  How does a Citroen SM-Maserati strike you?  But for now, I’ll enjoy having a car that starts every time and gets me -- and 4 of my closest friends -- down the road in comfort.

For me, a summer car has to have a drop top.  That’s a no-brainer, obviously – convertibles and summer are like peanut butter and jelly.  Feeling the wind in your hair, smelling the world around you, hearing the crickets chirp on a warm summer night – not really things you can do in a coupe.  Plus, for tall guys like me, a convertible eliminates the whole ‘head room’ issue.  But there are a lot of convertibles – what’s it gonna be?

If I’m being realistic, it’s a 2nd-generation Mazda Miata (MX-5) LS.  Hardly austentatious or extremely rapid, but on a hot summer day it’s an easy car to love.  It does the whole “convertible” thing better than any other car.  Want to put the roof down?  Click two latches, grab the handle, and flip it back.  Maybe 10 seconds.  Starts raining?  Reach behind you, flip the top up, and click the two latches in place.  Who needs a power hard top?

I also tend to think that enjoying summer driving is more about the experience rather than sheer speed.  You can’t revel in the beauty of the world in a Cateram R500, even if it’s got no roof – you’re too busy focusing on nailing apexes, overtaking three cars at a time, and balancing lurid smokey oversteer.  That’s why the Miata’s a good choice – it’s only got 142 horsepower, so it’s not going to set the road on fire, but it’s enough to be fun.  Mate that with a perfectly balanced rear-wheel-drive chassis and one of the best 6-speed manual shifters out there, and you’ve got driving pleasure distilled down to it’s core.

Second choice?  A classic Saab 900 Turbo convertible.  Of course.  It’s all the things I love about the 900 but with more al fresco motoring.  Don’t mind the wobbly cowl shake or the turbo lag, just enjoy the sound of the exhaust, the smell of the open road, and bring 3 of your closest friends along for the ride.

How about you? What’s your ideal summer vehicle?

“The name’s Bond…  James Bond.” I thought he drove an Aston Martin?

Yours truly – I’ll admit to not being anything of a snazzy dresser.  I’m ok with this.

Yes, these photos are obviously posed.

The way this photo focused is just too cool.  Wave to the camera, dude!

Let’s get all these ugly people out of the way and let the cars speak for themselves.  The TT Quattro is quite a quick car, by the way – and nice looking to boot.  When it’s not covered in dirt up to the hatch.  Which it always is.  It’s the small things in life you’ve got to stop and enjoy when you see them!

The pads weren’t totally worn out, sure.  But the brakes on my 900 were nowhere near up to par with the power it puts out; you can accelerate hard, but then you’ve got to really plan ahead with your braking.  Part of this is due to the car’s lack of ABS, and part of it is due to brake pads that are God-knows-how-old, from God-knows-where.  So I went on down to my local FLAPS (Friendly Local Auto-Parts Store, as it shall henceforth be named) and picked up what I needed to fix this pedal-in-the-middle deficiency.

The pads on the car when I got them were of an organic compound of some sort – soft, spongy, no brake dust (which is a bad thing), and easily overheated.  I picked up a set of basic replacement ceramic compound pads, plus a can of BraKleen brake solvent – really all you need for a brake pad job.  Total cost to me: less than $50.  I mean, if the pads suck, I’m only out some chump change, and I know that EBC makes some various compounds for the 900 I can try out if I so desire.  As always, I consulted my trusty Robert Bentley Official Service Manual (which I simply call The Saab Bible) and started off.  Here’s how you do it.  And, noobies – don’t be afraid of brake pads!  Even on an old car, this stuff is seriously easy!

Step One: Prepare.

The best thing you can do to make your job easier is to get everything ready before hand.  For this job, I needed the following tools and supplies:

• Floor Jack
• Jack Stand
• Large Sliding Pliers
• Breaker Bar + 18mm socket (lug nuts)
• 13mm Socket
• 16mm Box-End Wrench
• 4mm Hex Key
• 7mm Hex Key
• Flat Screwdriver
• Leverage (I used the jack handle)
• Brake Solvent
• Synthetic Grease
• Corrosion Solvent (Liquid Wrench)
• Brake Pads

First off, jack up the corner of the car you’re working on, and place a jack stand under the car – never work on a car with just a jack, unless you like being dead.  Remove the wheel and access the brake hardware.  It’ll look something like this:

Step Two: disassemble calipers and remove pads.

The next step is to take the caliper apart to access the brake pads.  First, grab your large pliers and compress the brake piston back into the housing.  Be careful not to damage the rubber gasket around the piston – why replace parts that aren’t broken?

After you’ve compressed the piston back into the housing, unscrew the lower guide pin bolt and slide the guide pin out of the housing.  The caliper pops up, and you can then slide it outward (towards the wheel well) to access the brake pads.

Step Three: Clean and Reassemble.

Now pull out those old, crusty brake pads and throw them in the trash.  Spray down all the moving parts as well as the caliper and carrier with brake solvent to get all the crud off them, and insert new brake pads.  You may have to break the pliers back out to compress the piston again so they’ll fit, but it’s pretty straight forward.  When you’re done, it should look something like this:

After that, swing the caliper back down making sure the springs contact both sides of the caliper, and screw the bolt back into the guide pin.  Pump the brake a few times to push the piston back out to the pads, and you’re good to go!  I was thinking this was going to be difficult, but it’s actually easy enough you could bring a set of grabby metallic pads to the track with you and swap them before hot laps in about 10 minutes.  Sadly the rears aren’t such a joy…

With the rears, it’s a similar procedure.  Jack the corner up and support with a jackstand, then remove the wheel.  You’ll see this hot mess:

Go around to the back side of the caliper to dis-engage the parking brake cable.  Realize you left the parking brake on, go into the car and put it down, then come back and slide it off it’s slot.

Now the fun begins.  While you’re still around back, take the small nut off that covers the piston adjustment screw.  Unlike the fronts, you don’t compress it with pliers – you’ve gotta unscrew that sucker with a 4mm hex key.

Then pull the dust caps off both of the guide pins (the black parts that are behind the end of the park brake cable and to the right of the bleeder nipple), then try to loosen the guide pins with the 7mm hex key.  This won’t work, of course, so apply some corrosion solvent (I’m a big fan of Liquid Wrench), go grab a beer, and wait ten minutes.  Come back later and they’re still stuck, so apply some force to the situation.  I used the jack handle from the floor jack for an additional 3 feet of leverage – be very careful to not snap the bolt off in the caliper, or you’ll hate your life.

After you’ve cussed, skinned a knuckle, cussed more, and finally gotten the pins out, go back around to the front and pry the retainer spring off the pad carrier with a straight screw driver.

With this out of the way, pull the caliper apart and take those nasty brake pads out.  Yechhh.  Spray down everything with brake solvent, insert new brake pads, and put it all back together.  These pads are a strange design- the inside pad actually inserts into the piston itself pretty securely, and the outside just slots into place.

After it’s all back together, use the 4mm Hex Key to adjust the piston all the way in, then turn it out a quarter-turn at a time until the brake disc will turn freely.  Then re-install the dust caps and the piston adjustment cover screw, pump the brakes a few time, and reinstall the wheels.

Then you’ve got to bed the pads – pretty simple.  Drive around your neighborhood, accelerating then slowing down sharply, to get the pads to mate with the surface of the rotor.  Then you’re done!  Up next: parking brake adjustment as well as brake bleeding and fluid replacement.  Stay tuned, and keep the shiny side up!

A Cool Old Car Is Less Than The Downpayment Of A New, Boring Car.

For real.  I can pick up a freakin’ nice C900 for less than a reasonable, “I don’t want to be upside down on a stupid loan” payment on a “please kill me” torture box like a Yaris.  Want some examples?  Of course you do.

Mildly overpriced at $4,200, I’m still tempted nevertheless by this ’93 (second-to-last-year) C900 SE Turbo ‘Vert.  It looks clean enough to eat off of, I can’t spot any rust, and the top goes up and down.

Plus, it’s only got 117k on the chassis, the trans was rebuilt at 87k, it had a valve job done at 94k, and apparently has a full service history with receipts.  Emerald Green is a great color for a C900 ‘Vert.  Plus, what else can you get you’d actually enjoy for $4,200?  Not a whole lot.

Or how about this ’93 900S 4-door?  It’s only got 86k on the clock.  $2,500 for a classic low-mileage running Saab in a relatively rare body style?  Gee, I dunno, that Hyundai Accent is looking good…  not.

I bet you could talk this dealer down to 2k in cash and walk away with a straight, good condition Saab that would run for another 300k miles easy.  Shame about the automatic, but with the ease of dropping the engine/trans in these cars it’s not an impossible thing to fix.  Just swap in a 16v Turbo/5 speed combo in one fell swoop, and you’d have something of a sleeper!

Saabs not really your cup of weird European tea?  How about an original Audi S-car?

This was the original S4, not some twin-turbo V6 load of maintenance problems.  (Just kidding; B5 S4′s are amazing cars… when they’re running.)  It was the hot-rod version of the C4-chassis Audi 100 (the car that preceeded the original A6), but instead of a dull, unreliable Audi V6 it had the AAN.  For those not familiar with Audi nomenclature, that was the very last of the classic 20-valve inline-5 Turbo motors that Audi made.  These engines define the term bullet-proof.  Plus, they made 227bhp/236lb-ft before you bolt on a big turbo, they rev out to 7,000rpm, and sound amazing.  This ’94 S4 Sedan offers world-class performance, solidity, and luxury for $2,500.  It’s already got a quarter-million on the odometer, and with proper care and feeding it’s ready for another.  It’s had a whole bunch of recent maintenance: the crucial timing belt/water pump combo, plus some new brake hardware, as well as a new radiator and power steering pump.   You could put together a 500whp UrS4/S6 for the price of a down payment and a few car payments on a Honda Fit.  See where I’m going here?

How about something rear-wheel-drive, sexy, with a huge howling straight six?  How about a 5-speed manual, extensive race heritage, near-perfect shape, for the price of a new Civic?  Take a look at this mint 1988 BMW M6.  This has the M1-derived 3.5L 24v straight six with race-style individual throttle bodies, a heavy-duty five speed manual, an LSD rear end, BBS gold cross-spoke alloy wheels (crucial!) and a barely-broken-in 117k on the clock.  Wanna talk about being on the right end of depreciation?  This car stickered for $59k… in 1988.  That’d be $105,626 in today’s money.  The pricetag for this meticulously maintaned bad-ass Bimmer?  $16,750.  Do want.

Maintenance Can Be Shocking…ly cheap.

An old car might seem like a headache to maintain, and sometimes they can be.  But it’s only because old stuff breaks more frequently than new stuff – pretty logical.  Thankfully, when old stuff breaks, it’s a whole lot cheaper to fix than when new stuff breaks.  The water pump went out on my SPG last year (in pretty dramatic fashion, the gasket blew with a loud “bang” and it started dumping coolant like a sieve).  I replaced it in my driveway.  Total cost?  $146, including the pump, gasket, new belts, and 2 gallons of Mercedes-Benz coolant (the good stuff.)  Water pump goes out on your BMW?  I’d bank probably ten times that much to get it replaced at your local dealer.

How about brakes?  Front discs for the 900: $25 a piece.  Rears?  Pricier, oh my god, at $29 a piece.  Pads?  Same story.  I don’t have to dump $600 on new brake hardware after I cook my pads on Tail of the Dragon.  A clutch kit?  $150  including clutch, pressure plate, throwout bearing, and clutch tool for an Exedy or Sachs OEM clutch on eBay.  Plus, the clutch is on the front, so you can do it in your driveway- with basic hand tools – and never even put the car up on a jack if you don’t want to.  How much is a new clutch  install going to cost at a dealer?  I’d bet a golden horse it’s more than $150!

Hell, even a turbo replacement – normally what causes people to sell their B5 S4′s when they get a crazy repair estimate – isn’t too bad.  Since the 900 uses an old-school Garrett T3-style turbo, replacements are cheap as chips on eBay for a new or re-manufactured unit.  Want a bad-ass T3/T04E hybrid?  $140+shipping will get you this generic (“XS Power,” haha) T3/T04E oil-cooled hybrid turbo with a healthy .57 trim (.50 A/R compressor, .63 A/R Turbine) measurement.  It’ll make more boost than most 4-cylinder engines can handle on stock internals, all day long.  For $140!  Want a replacement Borg-Warner K03 for your VW/Audi 1.8T?  Be prepared to shell out $600+ from the dealer.

The Community Makes The Car.

This is a two-edged sword.  I’d say the main reason there are no Yugos still on the road (besides the fact they were disposable cars when new) is probably that there aren’t really Yugo enthusiast forums.  On the other hand, got an old Saab 900?  Well, gee, which forum are you going to go to?  There’s SaabCentral, The Saab Link, Saabnet, and a whole bunch of other little ones.  A lot of these cars (especially the C900) are old enough by now, that any issue you’ll encounter has already been encountered multiple times and people have figured out three different ways to fix it.  Whereas there’s no way to fix the fact a new BMW doesn’t have a dipstick.  (Cheap shot, I know.)

And with old cars, there’s a camaraderie that’s just lacking in the whole “yeah, I got a 2-year lease on this 3-series” scene.  When one member has a problem with their car (“I’m getting no spark or fuel, car won’t start!” “Check the 3-pin electrical connector at the distributor!”), people in communities like SaabCentral genuinely try to help you.  There’s not the snob factor either – people won’t look down on you for having a non-turbo 900, they’re just happy someone else shares their passion for weird old Swedish cars.  Try going to VWVortex and telling them you want some modification ideas for your non-turbo Jetta: chances are 70% of the responses will be “shoulda bought a 2.0T n00b” or “LAWL BRO GET SOME NAWZ!”  Elitism in an automotive community is nothing but obnoxious; you run into less of this crap with old cars.

In Most States, A Pre-OBDII Car Is Easy To Get Through Inspection.  Really Easy.

Now, I can’t say it’s the case for whatever state or province or borough you live in, but at least in the good ol’ boy state of North Carolina, getting a pre-OBDII car through inspection is remarkably simple.  Why’s this?  Well, all cars past 1995 are required to have an OBD-II compatible “data port” that is standard across the industry, so that anyone with an OBD scanner can hook it up to the car and see if it’s working.  While this is great for problem diagnoses – “My car’s running like crap and has a Check Engine Light on, let me pull codes real fast and pinpoint the problem” – it makes passing inspection in an old car a lot harder.  Have a burned-out 02 sensor?  Not gonna pass inspection, it’ll show in the readiness codes.  Catalytic Converter packed up, burned out, or empty (hehehe)?  Won’t pass.  PCV or EGR valve gummed up?  Yup, try again.

Whereas OBD-I (proprietary OBD) or OBD-nothing (no electronic OBD) don’t have to deal with this totalitarian crap.  We get a “visual emissions and safety inspection.”  Which means they put the car on a lift, go “yup, there’s a catalyst, there’s a charcoal canister, no exhaust leaks” and send you on your way.  It’s so much easier this way.  And I figured all those Prii out there are making up for my empty cat.  Right?

Spend Your Money On Tangible Things, Not Insurance.

pictured: that cute girl from the Progressive Insurance commercials.

I’m 22.  I’ve got some tickets on my record.  I’m male.  These are all things that would make my insurance nearly unbearably expensive in a modern car that’s worth something.  Last time I checked, my insurance premium was $301, more-than-minimum liability coverage…  Every six months.  That works out to be a bit over $600 a year in insurance, which is less than most of my friends my age are paying for 2 months coverage in their Civics.  Bleurgh.  It helps that the state says my car is worth $1,200 and change (property tax was $9!) and has a salvage title, but still, $600 a year in a (reasonably) fast and cool car, on my own policy, is amazing.  I feel sorry for all the poor saps paying $2000+ a year to insure a 110bhp Focus.  Blech.

Drop your comments below, and let me know your old-car ownership experiences!  Yes, that means you!  Get to it!  And if you have suggestions for a Part 3, also let me know.

Image credits: Intro picture (C900 Carlsson) Flickr User Navarzo3.  Green 900SE Turbo Cabrio/Red 900S Sedan/Red ’88 BMW M6 www.autotrader.com.  Audi UrS4 on track: Wikipedia Commons via WikiUser EvansurS4.  Turbo: eBay.

4 brand-new-in-box KYB GR-2 dampers, for both axles of the 900.  Total cost: $120, give or take – quite a bargain!  The GR-2 is KYB’s basic OEM-replacement level shock absorber, with a twin-tube design and using nitrogen as the damper medium.  They’re not crazy double-bypass Fox racing shocks or rock-hard Bilstein Sports, but for a daily-driven car they will work wonders – and the price is hard to beat.  Now, where to start…

I started out at the driver’s side front shock.  First order of business is to raise the corner of the car far enough off the ground with a floor jack to remove the wheel/tire, and then set the car down on a jackstand – as you’ll be needing the jack later.  Once it’s off the ground, start working under the hood.  On the driver’s side, it helps to move the coolant overflow tank out of the way as it’s basically sitting right smack-dab on top of the upper shock mount.  This is done by removing one big long bolt that goes through the center of it, and then stuff it down there next to the oil dipstick, being careful not to crack any rubber cooling hoses.

Now for the fun part.  The Bentley manual just says “remove top mounting nut and hardware (dished washer and rubber bushing.)”  As if it’s that easy.  That SOB has been sitting there for probably 15 years, and hasn’t moved the entire time – so of course it’s frozen in place with rust and grime.  My suggestion would be to put 5-10 drops of Liquid Wrench (a rust-dissolving solvent) on it, and tap the shaft a few times with a hammer to let it sink it.  Then wait ten minutes while the chemicals do their job – better living through science!  Of course, the top shock mount is down between the brake booster and the strut tower, below some hard brake lines – so it’s a b*$&^ to get to.

So here’s how it works: Get enough 3/8″ extensions that you can get a socket down on the top shock mount, and then get a set of vice-grips on the shock body as tight as they’ll freakin’ go.  Brute force is the only thing that’s gonna get that nut loose, although having a friend hold the vice-grips doesn’t hurt.  Hold the shock body in place and push with all your might, until the nut finally loosens and your hand flies into the firewall, taking half the skin off your knuckle with it. Lovely!

Remember, Blood Sweat and Tears wasn’t just a funk band.  Hey, these things happen!  Once you’ve bandaged your bleeding hand, grab (another) beer and hop back in with both feet.  Remove the top nut and hardware and now it’s time to turn your attention to the bottom, which is significantly easier.  There’s a large (18mm) nut and washer that attach the bottom of the shock to the lower control arm.  Utilize a long breaker bar to get it loose, then a ratcheting socket wrench to get the nut almost all the way off – this will prevent the shock from popping off violently and hitting your foot.

Then use a pry bar (or in my case, a really big screwdriver) to leverage the shock off the control arm mounting point.  Once it’s loose, remove the nut and the shock will fall out.  Picture of the old and busted next to the new hotness is necessary here, I feel:

I didn’t take duplicate pictures from the passenger’s side (the process is the same) but I felt compelled to get a picture of what happens to shocks that don’t cooperate with me when I’m trying to remove them.  The body was so rusted out it basically collapsed under the pressure of the vice-grips, so I had to use a pair of dykes to cut the cover so I could grip the shaft.  Old rusted crap parts are so fun.  You can almost smell the tetanus.

Next, make sure to mount all the hardware in the right direction – bushings and washers below and above the body.  Then insert the shock into the opening on the body, and after putting a little grease on the lower bushing, mount it to the lower control arm.

Then, using the jack, compress the lower control arm and spring upward so that there’s enough thread showing on the top of the shock to thread the nut.  Tighten down the lower shock mount (75 lb-ft of torque), lower the jack, then hold the shock body with one hand and tighten the top mount until the edges of the bushing squish outside the washer.  Presto change-o, new shock installed!

The rear is a similar process, but since they are different suspension types (the front is independent with double control arms and an ARB, the rear is a solid axle with panhard bar and ARB) the details are slightly different.  Here’s what I was starting with – yikes!

Use the floorjack to raise the spring link (the big metal bar the spring and shock connect to) slightly to relieve some load from the shock after you remove the wheel, then get to unbolting the lower shock mount.  It’s a big chunky bolt that runs through both sides of the spring link and the bottom of the shock, and it’s secured with a big 19mm nut on the other end.  It’s best to use a big socket wrench and an 19mm box-end wrench on the other side; the nut’s hard to get to.  Again, some force is necessary here to break the blasted nut loose..

For the top, it’s time to use the Liquid Wrench trick again, as well as the vice grips and socket wrench technique to get the frozen nut loose.  Thankfully you have more space to work with here so it’s not so hellish.  Wearing gloves is a sign you learn from mistakes; that way when the nut finally loosens and you bang your hand on the fenderwell you don’t lose any more skin!

After this, it’s a matter of getting enough leverage to get the bottom of the shock out of it’s mount – it’s a really tight fit – and again I recommend the use of a BFS – screwdriver.  Once you get the bottom up past the spring link, just wiggle the shock out to the side and discard all the old crap.  Again, an old ‘n busted to New Hotness comparison shot:

After that, it’s a matter of compressing the shock enough to get it in place and bolting everything down.  Easy as pie!

Now, on to dealing with those worn-out brakes.  That’s a post for another day, I suppose.  These 900′s are like Medusa: fix one problem and you notice three more.  The rear rotors are totally shagged, and all four sets of brake pads could due for replacement.  Also, the brake pedal’s getting spongy so a brake bleeding is in order.  So much to do!

All the images are from this build thread on the forums of savarturbo.se, which -- although I don’t know any Swedish -- I’m going to venture a guess at being a Swedish tuning car forum.  The car started life as an early-build Saab 99, which had around 85 horsepower.  It’s still got a Saab engine, but it’s turned around backwards and mated to the Quattro 4WD system from an Audi 100.  It’s hard to gather details considering my lack of Swedish language knowledge, but honestly the pictures here speak louder than words.  Enjoy, and I’ll throw in the few details I figured out along the way.

I suppose everything starts out as a bare shell at some point.  Still, it looks like a pretty straight body -- a good find for a 99.

This is the original setup, using a Garrett GT40 and twin Dell’orto carb’s.  You can watch the setup of the car change as flip through the 30-odd pages of the thread, although it’s hard to imagine going up from a 600+WHP 4WD Saab.  If you’re a Saab nut (like me) you’ll notice that the motor is flipped around 180° -- distributor on the back, exhaust manifold on the driver’s side, intake on the passenger’s.  That’s so it’ll mate (with an adapter plate) with the Audi 100 transmission.

The original setup, fully assembled.  I can’t imagine Dell’orto 40′s stay in tune for long when you’re cramming 1.7bar over atmospheric pressure down their throats, but the whole carbs+turbo thing is still a mystery to me.

This is a later setup utilizing MSD electronic ignition, a Holset HX50 hybrid turbo, and VEMS standalone engine management/mapping software for better fuel delivery.  And yes, that’s over 700 peak wheel horsepower -- to all four wheels.

So what you have is a Saab 99 that looks like this from the outside:

And under the hood it looks like this:

And it runs down the strip like this.  Oh my god.  No more words need to be said.

So that’d be a 700+ whp Saab 99, that runs a 9.8 second quarter mile.  Who else is feeling inspired today?

For those unfamiliar, the Alcan Winter rally is basically a test of how huge your balls are.  It covers 4,850 miles from Seattle, WA to Jasper, Alberta – which is pretty far north.  It’s a ten-day event that tests reliability, common sense, and driver endurance.  Of course, the 900 Turbo passed with flying colors.  I particularly loved Team D’s caption for this shot – “I shot this while waiting for the WRX to be extricated from some deep snow…” is not something you hear every day!

Anyway, it makes me happy inside to see a C900 being used in motorsports; after all, Saab did have a massive rally presence back in it’s independent days.  And how gnarly looking is this 900?  TeamD’s got a few other cars (a pair of E30 325iX’s, as well as the aforementioned ’04 Subaru WRX) but obviously this ’85 8v Turbo is the coolest.  And what a wonderful picture, to boot.  You can catch them in the 2010 Alcan Summer Rally, which will probably be a whole lot easier.