Two guys I know both work at the same mechanical shop. They live out the same side of town but, rather than take it in turns to give each other lifts, they drive their own cars, travelling convoy fashion. One pedals a mid-Eighties Toyota Sprinter with a recently transplanted 20 valve 4A-GE engine, while the other has even more power courtesy of a boosted CA18DET Nissan engine. Oh yeah: in a Datsun 1200 ute. The rough-and-ready ute has run thirteens at the track; quick for a road car still wearing cart springs, bodgy brakes and all the standard 1200 ute accoutrements.
Being the lads that they are, they like having a bit of fun in the traffic on the way into work - spices up their adrenal glands, and pumps them up for the subsequent tedium of oil changes and recalcitrant customers. Just a bit of power oversteer, you understand - the sort achieved on a road made wet and slippery with diesel dropped from buses and trucks.
This particular morning, the ute was in the lead, jumping from bump to bump, turbo and driver whistling. A sharp left-hander near to a bus stop loomed, formed by the junction of two main roads. From long experience the guys know this corner well: there's a bump at the apex, right where the queue for the bus starts. In went the ute hard, late-braking and heel-and-toe down-changing de rigour.
Oblivious to the approach of the race cars were the people in bus stop queue; students waiting for school, office workers heading for the city, businessmen blearily working out their tax lies. All were peering at the world from sleep-laden eyes, wishing they'd grabbed a second coffee or were still tucked up. Turn-in of the Datsun was sharp, helped by the rear roll stiffness of springs designed to support loads, not decrease understeer. Onto the loud pedal; the boost rise in second hard and strong.... too strong this time. The ute hit the bump and the tail snapped sideways with power. The driver grabbed an armful of oppy look and tried to retrieve the slide. But he kept it on too long, and the ute broadsided the other way. Straight towards the bus stop queue.
People scattered in terror, wakefulness hitting them in a horizon full of crazed eyes, flailing hands, and rusted white paintwork. But one man remained, poised unmoving and apparently calm in the maelstrom of terror. As my friend goggled-eyed through the windscreen, attention fixed even as his hands frantically worked the steering wheel this way then that, realisation dawned. The lone warrior wore dark glasses and clasped a white cane! At the last moment the errant ute was gathered and straightened, roaring off down the road as the twittering, shaken people resumed their queue positions around the oblivious man....
How often do you consider the price of spare parts when thinking about the purchase of a car? No, really consider it? The other day I had occasion to pick-up a new Mercedes Benz ashtray for a late-Eighties 300E. The ashtray looked much like any other. A small panel - this one wood-trimmed - and a little recess that popped forward when you pulled on the lid. Not even a light inside - it was just an ashtray, for Godsakes! You wanna know the price? A cool six hundred Australian dollars...
But then I heard a story that topped even that. Picture the Mazda 929, the model before the ugly square current beast - so the one that looked a bit like a badly-done Jaguar. Okay, its engine runs an inductive crankshaft position sensor. Nothing fancy - I mean, even an optical one is more sophisticated than that. So, want to know the official spare parts price on that sensor? Five thousand dollars...
The brake pads that I am running in my car I would never have selected myself - they came to me via a circuitous route. A mechanic then working in a shop that I frequent decided that he wanted better brakes on his Commodore wagon. Rather than look at HSVs and the like, he headed off to the local wrecker, coming up with a set of Nissan Skyline GT-R struts, complete with discs and calipers. However, unaccountably the brake pads were missing. He needed the pads so that he could size the conversion, and - rather than try to source some from Nissan - he took a punt and rang the local Bendix agent. Yep, they had some pads to suit, in stock and available now!
He ordered in the pads - just A$70 trade for a full front set - and slotted them into the calipers sitting on the bench. But somehow the brake conversion never happened. The wrecker got sick of not getting any money and retrieved the struts, leaving the guy with a set of surplus, brand new Bendix Standard pads to suit a Skyline GT-R. Not knowing anyone else with a GT-R, the guy gave them to me, free of charge.
Figuring that since the pads fitted only one high performance car (or maybe the 300ZX as well?) they'd have to be pretty high performance linings, I accepted them happily. A few months passed, and the standard (Nissan) pads had become quite worn. I slotted in the Bendix newies and evaluated the results. Around-town bite was better, the pedal effort lighter and the pads having good progression. Harder testing would have to wait for another time - I had clutch problems and so a full-grunt country fang was out of the question.
Several weeks passed. The clutch was fixed, and Dep Ed Michael Knowling and I attended a race meeting in the car. On the way home, the empty, country road beckoned and I wound the car out. 200, 220, 240, 245 - and fast enough. I stood on the brake pedal and speed washed off. Well, it started to wash off, anyway. The pedal sank towards the floor, effort increasing and retardation disappearing. There was no immediate danger - the required stopping point was kilometres away - but the brakes were going off awfully fast. Speed down to 100 km/h, I looked in the mirror. Filling the whole rear view were clouds of smoke, generated when the pads cried enough in the most dramatic way possible..... No, I don't think that I'll stick with these pads!
