A Tale of Two Astras

In my last post, I said I had a relatively long story about a pair of Astras. Today, I'll tell that, and provide an update on K'Lack. I don't have pictures, because, honestly, most of this story isn't mine, and Ang didn't take pictures. She really does not "live thru her phone" like most people. Meaning, she doesn't take and share pictures as she trips through life. She experiences the moment at that moment and then moves on to the next one, living in the now. On to the tale-

 

Astras

I have mentioned Astra a few times. I provided some backstory to how we found her and why the Astra is so important to Ang here (See Moving into Shop). Basically, a Saturn Astra is an Opel Kadett with a new name and Ang's first car was an Opel Kadett. When we were having to use the jump box often, she started to get down on it. Then K'Lack broke and Krista needed a car, so Ang lent her Astra while Ang drove the truck (and I drove Hapy). Krista didn't like Astra very much, and Ang got to thinking about buying a new car that didn't have all of these problems. So, I dipped into craiglist and found... another Astra. This time, it was the top-of-the-line model which had been driven / cared for by someone who really loved this car. Everything worked on it. It had less than 60k miles on it, and then it was ours. I think Ang drove it for about a week before she let Krista borrow it. We had it just long enough to name it Frankie.

 

Astra Heads North

It was around this time that a friend of Angela's (they have known each other since 3rd grade) found herself in a bit of a bind. Her housing of over 25 years was being sold out from under her and she needed to solve for housing in rural western Canada without a car. And so started an odyssey. Ang resolved to getting Astra as functional as possible. That meant getting the alignment done, the tires rotated, the oil changed, filters etc. with a plan to drive to Canada to help her friend. She got a full read-out of everything that was done and every minor thing the tech's found and added that to the file she took to Canada. Soon, her plan to drive there became a plan to drive there and give Astra to her friend. So, in her limited spare time in the evenings she learned how to export a car from the US and did all that paperwork.

 

Ang finished her usual workweek on a Tuesday evening and left from there northward on I-5. Astra drove great and she landed just outside Olympia at a Super8/Motel6 for the night. The following morning, she drove up the Olympic Peninsula and hopped the ferry from Port Angeles to Victoria BC. Prior to leaving, Ang had done all of the vehicle export steps and had her paperwork in order. Unfortunately, her friend had not completed the import paperwork and was not at the border to meet her with that paperwork. So, the importing would need to take place in Nanaimo. Apparently because her paperwork was not in order, Ang was waved into the deep customs inspection area where they disassembled parts of the car and re-installed things. This included, for some reason, removing the wheels and putting them back on. Undeterred, Ang drove north on the Canada1, finding a motel just outside Victoria. The next day, she completed the drive north past Nanaimo to Courtenay where her friend lives.

 

Oh Canada

Importing a vehicle into Canada requires the vehicle passes an inspection. That seems totally reasonable as it prevents Americans (and others) from using Canada as a vehicle dumping ground. During inspection, they identified 2 lugs which were striped. Since the wheels had just been rotated and the tech's found nothing interesting, we have concluded that the customs folks jacked up the lugs during re-install of the wheels. For this reason, and the horn not working (it had been temperamental) caused the car to fail inspection. Angela's friend had 30 days to get the car fixed and re-inspected in Nanaimo or the car could not be imported. Since the car was officially exported from the US, she also couldn't come home. It was get fixed or get crushed time.

 

To Vancouver

Ang helped her friend look at some places to live and then Ang needed to get home. The original plan included her friend driving Ang at least as far as Nanaimo to catch the ferry over to Vancouver where Ang would catch the Amtrak to Portland. Instead, Ang bought a flight home, flying out of Comox (neighboring town to Courtaney. At this point, we learned that the passport id card is only valid for land travel across a border. If you want to fly, you must use the booklet, which Angela left here. While they let her board the flight from Comox, her flight from Vancouver to Portland was canceled. Instead, she would have to take a bus from Vancouver to Seattle where they rebooked her to fly home to Portland.

 

This travel all happened on the Sunday that one of the larger regional Canadian airlines went on strike. So, while her flight from Comox to Vancouver was relatively calm, the scene in the Vancouver airport was bordering on chaos. And, land travel options were disappearing fast as those with canceled flights because of the strike were vying for whatever they could find. This included bus and trains into the US.

 

Angela grabbed a Lyft to the train/bus station, ticket in hand, and talked to the ticket person at the counter. The computers were down because of course but the ticket counter person said that while her in-hand ticket was for tomorrow, the driver would let her ride today. That proved incorrect as the unpleasant driver had no interest in talking to anyone about anything other than accepting a ticket for that specific bus ride. So, now Ang found herself in a not-too-safe part of Vancouver, the afternoon turning to evening, no ride across the border, no personal transportation, a dead cell phone and no housing plan. As her phone charged at the nearest bar, we talked about options. That weekend there were multiple events taking place in Vancouver (the annual Pride parade and ComiCon, eg) so options were slim and expensive. Most options were far away from where she was and where she needed to be to board the morning bus to Seattle. The place we thought we found had no front desk and everything was done virtually. As she tried to book, the price kept going up. While wrestling with their booking site, she befriended someone who walked her to a place with an actual front desk and an available room. It wasn't big. It didnt have it's own bathroom, but it was expensive and had a lock on the door. It's funny how far down the bar goes as evening turns dark.

 

Thru Seattle 

Early the next morning, Ang caught another Lyft to the train/bus station and was through customs before 7AM. She hopped the bus, driven by the same unpleasant guy who wouldn't talk to her the night before. The bus was delayed passing through northern Washington to the point where she missed her original flight. I swear, you can't make this stuff up. Ang got a hold of the folks at United before the gate closed and got moved to another flight, freeing up her seat for a stand-by person. Her later flight was 4 hours later, but that provided time to unwind, and decompress a little bit before the final legs of her journey home. Still, spending 4 hours in the busy SEA/TAC airport is not remotely 'unwindy'. It is not comfortable, nor quiet, nor without lurkers so those 4 hours felt longer than the 8 hours we were stuck at Portland International Airport (PDX) last June.

 

And Home 

Fortunately, the flight was uneventful, boarding, leaving and arriving on time. Since she was now arriving at rush hour, she insisted I not drive the 60+ minute drive to PDX and instead meet her at a Tri-Met light-rail stop. The light rail from PDX is actually very easy. The train line ends there, so there is usually a train sitting there waiting for you to get onto. She had about 15 minutes of sitting before the train pulled out and then about an hour on the train. Then, at the stop one before the one I was meeting her at, all the westbound trains were held for 20 minutes because of an issue on the line well west of where she was getting off. Seriously, you just can't make this stuff up. I literally teared up when I saw her get off the train, so grateful her perilous adventure had come to and end. We hit one of our favorite local Japanese restaurants on the way home.

 

We learned last week that Astra has passed inspection, and she is wearing new Canadian license plates.

 

K'Lack Update

Ian found the issue that was causing us continued issues. He has lots of diagnostic tools and he found that the voltage range being sent from the crank position sensor was below the minimum for the computer to have a reliable reading. The part was new, and I installed it.... lying on the ground on top of wood chips. Apparently I did not seat the sensor exactly square in the hole. So, the sensor was pointing at a slight angle. When he removed the sensor to see what was going on, he saw the o-ring was pinched more on one side than the other, adding credence to the theory. He replaced the o-ring, cleaned out the hole and the edge before re-installing the same sensor. He was able to gain a better angle on the part and was able to seat it squarely. After multiple tests runs, he handed it over to me. Ang and I drove K'Lack exclusively for a few days, putting nearly 150 miles on it. K'Lack drove great, no codes were thrown, so Ang took it through DEQ (Department of Environmental Quality) / smog testing. It passed, and with new stickers applied, we traded cars with Krista, putting Frankie back in our driveway.

 

I admit that at least part of the problem with getting K'Lack running was my long-lived dislike for the car. It has been the problem-child since it first arrived from Kai. Did I rush the sensor install? I don't think so, but I was lying in wood chips in the sun on a hot day. Perhaps, if I had had room in the shop to to the work, or made the room to do the work, we could have avoided some unpleasantness this summer.