For those of you who care (or even if you don’t, but you’re just bored enough), I have a love-hate relationship with my car. I love. She hates. Lately, she’s feeling extra nasty. If you’ll recall from a few posts back, this is an ongoing battle and I seem to be losing. About a year and a half ago, my car, a silver 2002 Audi A6 Quattro 2.7L BiTurbo, exhibited some peculiar transmission issues. Turns out the transmission had developed a pinhole leak and over time it dumped it’s fluid … not all of it. Just most of it. It’d be great if there was a clear indication from a warning light or diagnostic trouble code that said, “Low fucking transmission fluid, you jerk!” But that’d be too helpful. In fact, since Audi believes the engine has “lifetime fluid”, they don’t even bother giving you a dipstick to check the fluid level yourself. It’s a sealed transmission. But when the transmission stopped shifting correctly, the damage was very much done. By then, all the clutch plates were burned and the whole transmission had to be rebuilt by a trained professional. Several thousand dollars later and I was back on the road, shifting gears with the best of them.
I need to pause a minute to say I’m really happy with the transmission shop. They do all kinds of mechanic work on European cars, exotics, and even antiques. Folks from all over the country send transmissions and even vehicles to Freddie’s Transmissions. They’re the kind of mechanic who takes their time, not because they’re ringing up the invoice, but because they’re meticulous. It must be as good or better than it was when it was delivered from the factory. That, and if you stop in the shop, Joe and Freddie will talk you through the whole process, to ensure you are completely informed about what they’re doing to your car.
Well, that’s the beginning of the story. I took my car in to Freddie’s a week before Christmas, to have them check the transmission fluid and top off the differential gear oil. When they lifted the car up, the mechanic sees that the transmission and the differential are in great shape, great news. It’s the engine that’s the problem. The whole thing is oil leaking like a New Orleans canal during Katrina. The camshaft seals, the valve cover seals, the crankshaft seals, additionally, with nearly 100,000 miles on the car, the timing belt and water pump must be changed ASAP. The timing belt on the 2.7T is rubber, unlike many newer V6′s and V8′s which have chain belts. When that rubber belt dies, or when any of the pulleys connected to it seize, the pistons will slap smack into the valves and it’s time to throw away the whole engine. So it’s a good idea to change that belt. It just so happens that the timing belt, water pump, and all the various seals aren’t exactly easy to reach. In fact, you pretty much have to remove the whole front end of the car and disassemble the top and front of the engine to get to them. If this were a 65′Ford pickup, you could do all that in an afternoon. But with two turbos, an air conditioner, power steering, transmission cooler, oil cooler, two intercoolers (for the turbos), it is slightly more involved on the Audi.
The first day (or at least 9 hours of it) were exhausted while removing the front wheels, bumper, A/C condenser (still charged though), electric and belt-fed fans, and accessory belt tensioner. I’m certain an Audi mechanic could do all of that in a couple of hours at most, but I’m working without a lift, in my driveway, by myself, so I’m giving myself a hefty temporal allowance. I had hoped to complete this entire job in two days, but at this rate, it may be three or four. You may be asking yourself, “Greg, why in the hell are you doing this yourself? It sounds like a lot of fricking work, doesn’t it?” Yes, it does, dear reader, but the answer to your question is a couple of Grover Clevelands. Yes, there are a lot of parts, yes there are a lot of specialty Audi tools, and yes, the price of failure is a new engine. But $2,000 is real damned steep. If I break it I’ll have to pay more, but there’s a big possibility that I won’t, if I’m careful. If I had someone else do it, I’d definitely be $2,000 lighter in the trouser pockets and possibly more if it took the professional mechanics longer than they anticipated. I should add that the $2,000 estimate is for an independent repair shop. If I took the car to the Audi dealer, chances are they’d ask for their share of my home mortgage. ($95/hour labor versus $175/hour) I’m posting photos, and a detailed step-by-step process for those of you who want to retrace my steps and see if I did it right. Or maybe you’re feeling lucky and you’re facing similar issues with your Audi or Volkswagen? In that case, skip to the end of this blog to see if my car blows up before you begin.
Continued…
My dad recently gave me his 1965 Ford F100 pickup. It’s been part of the family forever and I’m hoping to restore some of its dignity and charm, perhaps eventually promoting it to a regular driver here in Dallas. Until then, I thought I’d post some progress pictures and a bit of internal dialog to go along with this restoration. You can find more details by clicking on the appropriate menu at the top of this page, but for a little foreshadowing, I’ve posted a “before” and dream-sequencey “after” photo collection below. The “after” pictures are actually from someone’s eBay auction of a 1966 F100, but they provide a pretty close approximation of my ideal restoration end-goal, although the color scheme may be different than what I’d choose.
So I have this great car, a 2002 Audi A6 Quattro (2.7L Bi-Turbo). Not the one pictured on the right, but close enough. My car and I have this special relationship. One day I'll tell you all how it started, but not today. Today, you see, I'm telling you how it's likely to end. So we've got this special relationship. It drives me to school and I fix it up when it breaks. Lately, there's a lot of the latter and not much of the former.
