Back in the VW Saddle Again

My Volkswagen Golf died. Actually, it died last year about the same time and under the same circumstances - weather got cold enough that the bendix on the starter occasionally refused to cooperate; it started without problems once the temperature were above freezing and I didn't have the problem for a year. The mechanically inclined would say hit the starter lightly with a hammer or mallet, that it should free up things and allow the starter to crank. First of all, this action doesn't always work. More importantly, I know where the starter is located and this woman ain't crawlin' underneath the car every single time my fair weather bendix friend refuses to work and play well with other car parts.

Now, there is an alternative in this situation. My buggy is a 5-speed, capable of being pop-started. However, one of two conditions must exist in order for the car to come to life and be driven. The first is that there is enough of a decline or hill to roll down to get sufficient speed for things to go pop-start. This actually works well for me, as I live on a hill. All I have to do is push it out of my driveway and onto the hill that is my street, jumping in and steering the car before it hits my neighbors wall across the road or, if the wheels are really turned to the left, have the car quietly roll down the hill without me. Having coasted down the hill on a lark on a few occasions (okay, so I'm a middle-aged kid), I know that it hits a maximum speed of about 35-40 MPH by the time it gets to the bottom. I shudder to think of the possibilities, yet I did this for a few days with success while I contemplated the impact of the cost of the new starter on my less than comfortable budget.

We now arrive at the second condition which must be available should rolling down a hill not be an option. The car must be pushed fast enough to be able to pop-start it. This requires one person to steer and engage the appropriate gear and some means to push the car. In other words, you need at least one volunteer to either push with their car or with their hands. Guess what? There isn't always a volunteer available.

A week ago last Thursday, I headed out to my car to leave for the day. The temperatures down in the single digits on the way to work, I had to do the push-and-hop-in maneuver to get there. The temperature never got out of the teens that day. There's one place in the parking lot of our building where there's a slight sloping. I had hoped it was enough that things would still start if I turned the key and only heard that tell-tale whirr and had to let it roll. Wasn't enough. I tried third, second, even first gear - wouldn't start due to insufficient speed. I ran out of room and didn't want to hit the service truck which was directly in my path at the lower end of the lot. I started to push it into a parking space when one of the men from said service truck came along and helped finish the short trip. Gee, who knew that one good-looking, able-bodied, 30-something man and one not-so-able-bodied, 50-something woman would find pushing a 2,454 lb. car 20 feet so difficult? With no way to try again in the space the car was nosed into, I grabbed what I wanted/needed from the car and locked it to sit and wait until I could pay for the repair work.

Cut to six days later, when my car is towed to the garage and fixed. I've been relying on my supervisor to get to and from work and a co-worker takes me the final leg of the journey to pick up my now starting perfectly each time Golf. I have relearned the gentle and wonderful art of walking more than the few feet it is to my car. I made my supervisor's trip a little shorter by walking to meet her about a half mile from my house and having her drop me off to walk back home. The hill I live on is a good cardiovascular workout which challenged me, but didn't leave me needing to call 911. I had bought groceries just before the starter died, but my neighbor volunteered to pick up groceries just in case I needed something. Laundry was hand-washing. A simpler lifestyle, not intolerable and certainly enjoyable.

But it was only for a week. Oh, how I missed my little blue beast of burden.