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The Reliability of Vintage Cars … Unexpectedly Continued
Two weeks ago, I went into a fair amount of detail about how, although we love our vintage cars, you’re delusional if you think they’re as reliable as anything remotely modern, and if you can’t fix them when they break—which they will when it’s the least convenient moment for them to do so—you’re not going to be happy.
When you write something that strident and opinionated, one of two things is likely to happen: You’re going to be proven absolutely right, or you’re going to be proven completely wrong.
Guess which one of them it was.
The day after I sent that piece in, I got both Lotuses—Lolita the ’74 Europa, and Meghan Markle the ’69 Elan +2—out for a spin after the snow had fallen, the roads had been salted, and a few days of good hard rain had washed it all away. I’d done quite a bit of work on the Elan since its single 20-mile post-inspection drive in mid-November. In addition to the de-mousing, I’d replaced a bad U-joint in one of the rear half-axles, sorted out the loose steering (a bad column bushing and a needed inner tie rod shim), replaced the rear rotors and pads, and addressed a hot-running issue that I’d traced to two hose connections weeping coolant. I first ran the car in ever-widening circles around the block, then pulled it back into the garage to check for coolant leaks. When I was satisfied that I’d nailed the coolant leak, I set out to take it on a short drive on my usual route out Rt. 30 through the adjacent town of Weston with its twisty roads. The +2 still idles poorly, buffets slightly when run below 3000 rpm, and has a few body / suspension thunks and clunks to be sorted out, but the reek of mouse infestation, the clanging from the bad U-joint, the steering play, and the brake pedal pulsation from the warped rear rotors were gone. And the car actually had working, clean-smelling heat. I was livin’ the dream, stealing time in the cold December sun in the beautiful little red car before the weather goes to hell.
All was well until I crossed over the I-95 interchange. There the car stumbled, lost power, then died, literally blocking the on-ramp to the Mass Pike. I got it started and lurched it forward 10 feet into a breakdown lane patch about the size of the car. Then it died and stayed dead.
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First, deep breath. I was maybe two miles from home. I would’ve prefered this happened someplace with less traffic, like on a wide rural road or on some small side street, but at least I was somewhere highly visible and not unsafe. If I needed to call Hagerty Roadside Assistance for a tow home, it would be a hit to my pride, and I’d need to be vigilant about how they winched the fragile little car onto the slide-back ramp, but there would be no other real consequences. I switched the hazards on and put the hood up, but I was keenly aware that I was now “that guy” in a hobbled red expensive-looking vintage sports car on the line between the affluent communities of Newton and Weston. And in winter, no less. Any car folks who saw me were likely thinking, “What idiot would be driving that Lotus this time of year?” Even to non-car folk, the Elan +2 certainly looks like the kind of car you garage before Thanksgiving and roll out Memorial Day weekend.
I checked that all four spark plug wires were attached and that the distributor cap wasn’t askew, but this felt more like a fuel delivery issue than an ignition issue. In general, ignition issues in vintage cars tend to present either as the car suddenly dying completely (coil not being triggered due to points closing up, 12V coil power wire breaking off, or condenser not being grounded), or the engine feeling like it’s not running on all cylinders due to a bad plug wire, whereas fuel delivery issues in carbureted vintage cars tend to make them gradually lose power as the float bowl runs dry.
There’s an adage that if a car feels like it’s running out of gas, it probably is, at least on some level. This car has a retrofitted electric fuel pump in the trunk. I turned the key to ignition-on, popped open the trunk, laid my hands on the pump and the fuel hose, and didn’t feel them pulsing. Voltage is supplied to the pump through a male-female quick-connect flat-blade connector pair often incorrectly referred to as “spade connectors.” While I was sorting the car out in the garage and testing things like the directionals, lights, and blower fan, several times I had the key cracked to ignition-on but had disconnected the coil and unplugged the pair of fuel pump connectors, as I didn’t want these things running while the car was sitting for the stretches during which I was testing. I wondered if in doing this, I hadn’t fully mated these connectors. I separated and then reseated them, and the pump sprung to life and the car restarted. This is about as trivial as a “car died” problem can get. I made a mental note to recheck the connectors and make sure the problem wasn’t a bad crimp, and replace the connector pair with something whose connection is designed to be made and broken repeatedly.
Still, I took it as something of an omen, did not take my pleasure drive through the twisty roads to the west, and instead proceeded straight home. I tucked Ms. Markle back in the garage and went for a short spin in Lolita. When I did, I was struck by the fact that, even with the month of work on the Elan, the Europa is still an obviously better-sorted, better-running car. It starts easily, it idles fine, there’s no low-rpm hesitation, and it’s actually freer of thunks and clunks.
So the prettier car is actually the rattier runner, and the rattier car is actually the better ride and drive. Maybe, while sitting alone and bored in the garage, Lolita and Meghan did a Freaky Friday. Hey, they’ve both got Lucas electricals. Anything’s possible. Who needs reliability when you’ve got Lindsey Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis?
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Rob’s latest book, The Best Of The Hack Mechanic™: 35 years of hacks, kluges, and assorted automotive mayhem, is available on Amazon here. His other seven books are available here on Amazon, or you can order personally inscribed copies from Rob’s website, www.robsiegel.com.
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First of all, there’s a LOT of folks on here who need to lighten up a little. Learn to laugh or shrug it off and move. Stop being angry all the time and let the moderators do their job.
Secons, Rob, Posi-Lok wiring connectors are the bomb. Been using them for years and have NEVER had on fail. The ultimate design for tight connections and infinite re-usability.
Second, not secons…
While reading this as well as the previous article about reliability, I was thinking about what we should be carrying with us when we take these classics out for a spin? Maybe an article on a suggested tool kit would be in order? Surely we can’t predict what might happen, but I wonder what basic tools everyone carries in their trunk?
PS: As someone already mentioned, failure of an aftermarket part (or connection to it) really has no bearing on the reliability of any given make, model, or vintage.
Rob doesn’t know what tools to take – after all, even HE had to hoof it to a local tool store to buy one (in a prior article)! 🤣😂🤣😂
Owned a 74 Europa back in 1976 that dropped the shift linkage when crossing Telegraph Road on Ten Mile at midnight. Wandered around until I found a piece of wire to hold up the linkage (which is the rear most part under the car), sussed out what second gear would be from the shaft in the transmission, and drove home in 2nd.
Several weeks later, same trip, it started to rain. As soon as I turned on the wipers I could see the alternator light glowing. When I approached my apartment and turned on the signal for a left turn the car died and I coasted into the driveway. The tiniest ever alternator (a Delcotron all of 3 inches in diameter) couldn’t put out enough juice to run three items simultaneously.
But it was fun to drive in the daytime!
First off owning and using something old fulfills 2 goals:
1) transportation
2) entertainment
As far as transportation goes my Sprite has served me well commuting to work, 7-8 miles away, over the west hills in Portland, returning great gas mileage, being easy to park in the city, but returning an amazing feel of relief when I arrive at the destination.
People often stop and wave which is a reward unto itself and there are many simple “work arounds” possible to arrive home and the tasks needed to get the thing running again are fewer with experience, repair parts are relatively cheap and easy to get often at the hardware store.
In a normal rush hour commute I see the bored masses checked out mentally, and the odd unfortunate broken down at the side wondering how to pay for an astronomically expensive repair above and beyond the finance cost. Truly the automotive education was at times trying but the reward was well worth the effort!!
Would those connectors have come loose if you’d never taken them apart? Inertia is a force after all.
And it is a truth universally recognized that Loti are the least reliable of cars (among those manufacturers still in business).
It’s also been said that the only vintage cars that can be reliably driven daily are old Volvos and Porsche 356s. I’ve owned a number of old Volvos and no Porsches, but I don’t believe that. Old sports cars need to be driven regularly and maintained… if it’s a good example you can eventually get it sorted and then drive without worries.
I drive a Porsche 356, it is not reliable, failure to start and running badly. All issues are contributed to aftermarket made in china parts. Ignition switch, coil etc. From the factory it was reliable, changing out parts as preventive maintenance because of age is a reliability killer.
Bought a 1969 Elan S2 (almost) brand spanking new from the Miami Lotus importer – actually from the lawyers who were selling off the assets, seems the guy went to Europe and simply decided not to come back. $2,500, half price.
Someone had “borrowed” the tachometer, which is part of the ignition circuit, so the car wouldn’t run. Installed tachometer, vroom. Then the fun began. I’ve owned over 150 cars, from the ridiculous to the sublime, and I got into more trouble in that Lotus (which ran about once a payment) than in everything else combined, including countless motorcycles, a boat, a couple of airplanes and possibly even a jet powered pogo stick (I deny everything).
Car overheated, moved the electric fan to the front of the radiator, then it sucked instead of blew. Reversing the wires didn’t help, I had to open the motor and swap the brush wires. Added a multi-blade plastic fan (Ford Escort, I think) to replace the two bladed “lawn mower blade fan” it came with. Helped a little, best cure was never to drive slower than 45 mph.
Headlights were vacuum operated, there was an obscure leak somewhere, at idle, the headlights slowly retracted, revving the engine brought them back up. They stayed on, so when they retracted, the whole front of the car glowed, not that you could see where you were going or anything.
Air horns were mounted in the bottom of the front radiator air intake. Went through a puddle, the water stayed there and honking the air horns resulted in a loud gargling sound.
Hood (engine cover, not top) rose and fell about half an inch depending on how fast I was going.
Driver’s window dropped down – the car had power windows because Lotus was sure that the ham-handed Colonials would destroy the doors if there were hand cranks. Opened the door panel, the end of the cable had slipped out of the clamp. Wouldn’t go back, the end was frayed. Cut off 1/8″, now the cable is too short. Went to solder on a length of motorcycle clutch cable, no good, the Lotus cable is stainless and you can’t solder to it. Made an inline splice, put it back together after a few hours of cussing. OK, fixed. Next day the passenger window dropped down . . .
Needed a tail light lens. Lotus distributor now has an address in Coral Gables, go there, no, it is the upstairs garage apartment around the back. Knock on door, guy in his underwear carrying a beer can (and having consumed a LOT of beer previously), swaying side to side, confirms he is in fact the Lotus distributor. No parts available, sorry (burp).
Turns out the lens is a Series II XKE lens, swapped right to left and turned upside down.
Assuming the statute of limitations has expired (it has, hasn’t it?) I decided to drive from the south end of Miami Beach to Key West, just as fast as I could go (Shades of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, right?). Driving like an absolute maniac, I did it in three hours flat. Didn’t get killed or get stopped or get arrested either. Routinely took I-95 exits at three times the posted speed. Driving like a sane person, it took five hours to get back. (“Officer, we can’t stop here, this is bat country. Besides, it wasn’t me, it only looked like me.”)
Finally exasperated with it, I sold it to someone who promptly wrecked it, big time. He got out OK but the car was done, really done.
I still have the workshop manual which I refer to occasionally for comic relief. And I was never on the Russian front – the first time, anyway.
I laughed, I cried. I give this sad song a 9.5, Dick, although it was a little hard to dance to. 😉
The comment about the air horns brought to mind that the ones on the 74 Europa were mounted in the frunk. I swear you could hear them better inside the car than outside.
I think for all Lotus cars of that era, Colin Chapman would reach a point that he needed to start selling something and just stuck required accessories anywhere to achieve same.
Sounds like another day in the life of a classic car owner. As the owner of a “post-Fiat” Lancia, I fully understand.
I often say my 196000 mile (when purchased) ’61 850 Morris Mini was the most “dependable” car I ever owned. I could depend on it misbehaving and providing “learning experiences”virtually every time I drove it!!! between smacking the SU fuel pump to get it clacking, to having someone kick the right rear tire to re-establish the battery connection while I pressed the starter button between the seats, to having to tie a string to the wipers when the wiper drive stripped, to having to back down the road westbound when the rain came hard from the east to avoid flooding the distributor to installing a pushbutton operated heated carb base to warm up the oil in the damper of the SU carb to “reliably” start in the cold – – – My first car – as an apprentice mechanic and high school student – and I put 20,000 miles on it in a year without ever getting more than about 20 miles from home. Basically never farther than I COULD walk to get home. Thankfully never had to walk more than a mile – -.
Similar issues with some of the herd I used to care for… 74 Spitfire.. pin in accelerator cable linkage fell out, fixed it with paper clip (part of what I travel with); MGA with start/no start… hidden gash in battery cable; rear lighting in 69 E type.. knocked the connector out of position when returning aired-up spare to trunk area; E type stumbling and dying… rotor had hairline crack; 74 Midget fuel pump not clicking… travel with ‘firm’ rock in trunk to tap it with. It supports what I always tell people when they ask about owning a vintage car.. if you are NOT comfortable with “will it start? will it run? will you get there? will you get home?” then you have no business having a vintage car of any make.
Had an Elan a few years ago. What a wonderful driving machine! When it did work… It suddenly died on me one day and that’s when I found out that there were only 3 fuses for the whole electric system. One of them had blown. Really Colin!!! My old 1964 Fiat 600 had twice as many!
You really are fooled by a pretty face. How can you expect years of Hack Mechanic work on the Europa to be inferior to a fraction of a year of Hack Mechanic work in the Elan? Your freaky Friday will come to an end, but that’s at least a year’s worth of sorting away.
…and Rob’s dastardly plan of a year’s worth of writing while he sorts… he doesn’t own Lotus to enjoy them, he owns them to pay for buying more BMW’s… 😉 Love all your writing and cars Rob!
Do we think there’s consensus that the Europa is a ‘pretty face’?
I have to admit the design has grown on me over the years, but I’m still not sure it has risen to ‘pretty.’
Insane how low the Europa is in that picture. Elans are tiny and the Europa looks every bit of four inches lower?
Loved the article since it started with the joys of classic car driving, fell into the miseries and greatest fears of taking them out further than the loop around the block, but ended with a heroic save by part-McGyver but mostly part-mechanic (someone way more of an experienced mechanic than me). However, I think you found and fixed the problem not just because of your diagnostic prowess, but because of your endless tinkering and touching of all parts of your Lotus in it’s downtime in your cold garage.
I had my breakdown of my “reliable” classic in the past 6 months as well, but luckily I was able to limp into a nice safe neighborhood with the “small side street” you were wishing for. Only then you have to deal with the friendly residents coming out of the homes your car died right in front of, asking the usually 20-friendly questions about your classic, while simultaneously trying to concentrate on your diagnosis or, in my case, then calling that tow truck for your almost completely now-disconnected-from-the-hub, save for the last 2 of 5 bolts, cracked original 1940’s steel wheel rim.
My one suggestion for a better article: next time (seems like there will be one) after you take the deep breath, take more pics with your smartphone (I did) so we can really visualize the story along with your entertaining writing!
Funny that the Europa was the more reliable of the two. Perhaps Chapman’s “parts car” approach to the Europa paid off in reliance on odds and ends from regular road cars.
Last year, on a whim, I bought a 1970 S2 Type 65 with 807 cross-flow head. I probably could have bought a nice TCS for what I’ll have in the car by the time it’s done (springs, dampers, bushings, tie rod ends, suspension links, brakes, dual fuel tanks, assorted repairs, wheels/tires) – and that’s before a respray and new interior.
If and when the Europa ever comes out of the shop, it will be interesting to see how it compares in handling and reliability to the 1970 914-6 I drove for 17 years (thankfully the Magneti Marelli distributor in the Porsche was replaced with a Bosch part). The Porsche was extensively modified for track use, so handling was superb.
The Europa will be the first British car to darken my doorstep (I know, bad pun, Lucas, Prince of Darkness – learned that lesson in HS with assorted friends who drove, not in order of reliability – MGC, MG Midget, Alpine, TR250.
In 17 years and 125,000 miles of driving, the Porsche only stranded me three times (jammed transmission linkage at the track, expired battery, and broken throttle return spring – the last one was exciting as the motor revved over 8,000 – which thankfully it was built to handle with 906 cams). Of course, I did replace two engines, one transaxle, the front brakes, and the entire suspension during my stewardship of that car.
That reminds mw of the time, about 45 years ago, when I was driving my sister’s Scirocco and it died on the Mass Pike about 1000 feet from that spot.
I was on my way home to the rattiest domicile in the wealthy town of Weston.
No surprise, my sister perpetually living beyond her means gave me her car lacking a sufficient amount of dino juice.
Sitting on the side of the road a lady state trooper came along to assist.
She told me “you better tell me the gas gauge is broken, otherwise I’ll have to give you a ticket”.
Citation avoided.