Stranded Twice - The Most Unreliable Part

Now that the top was up I could handle even cold days and began commuting in the MGA basically every day.  Early on I had a few days working off site, which required a slightly longer trip in - about 45 minutes across town in typical DC traffic. Visibility isn't as good with the top up, but I did fine with the stop & go.  I think people are a little less aggressive around me than they would if I were driving my typical car, and I am certainly more cautious.

This picture from a few months ago captured the most unreliable thing in the car. Can you spot it?

As I parked in the visitors lot at the office I would call temporary home for a few days and began to walk away from the car, I had a suspicion that I'd left the lights on.  I walked back and rather than opening the car back up and checking the light switch, I walked around front and looked at the headlamps.  It was a little bright out with the sunrise, but it looked like the lights were off, so I went on with my day.  As I left that evening, you can predict what happened.  As I turned the key and pulled the starter, I got one half hearted grind from the starter and that was it.  I checked the light switch and sure enough it was half on -  I hadn't double checked the running lights. No problem, a quick jump start should have me on my way.

It was at this point that I discovered that apparently no one in modern America carries jumper cables in their car anymore. I have them in our other cars, but haven't yet put them in the MGA. I trolled the parking lot for 10 minutes unsuccessfully.  I went back up and made a nuisance of myself upstairs for 20 minutes unsuccessfully.  Everyone was willing to help but didn't have cables. Finally I went back downstairs and found someone that actually had cables.  As it turns out he has an old 50's American truck at home that he wrenches on and drives. Ten minutes later and I was on my way: five minutes to jump start, and five minutes to talk about our cars.  Lesson learned - double check the lights.

A few weeks later I was driving home from the office.  My in-laws were visiting and had just landed that afternoon, so I was in a hurry to get home and took the toll road that is a quick but pricey short cut home.  I haven't mounted the automatic toll pass, and didn't get it lifted up to the windshield properly, so I set off the alarm on the toll booth.  In a more anonymous car I might have been tempted to just keep driving, but that was not even a thought in this case. I pulled over and waited for the toll attendant to come collect the toll.  As I sat there for the few short minutes it took, I recognized the clicking of the fuel pump that had signaled running out of gas in one of the first trips around the neighborhood. There is a gas station at my exit just a few miles up, so I made a note to stop there.  The gauge was showing 1/8 of a tank so that should be fine for another day, but why push it?  The attendant came. I paid and answered a few questions about the car - he was intrigued.

I pulled out and made it only a few hundred yards before the engine puttered to a stop.  The gauge thought I still had 1/8th of a tank (should be about a gallon and a half) but apparently the engine disagreed.  It occurred to me that I calibrated the Full setting of the gauge to a full tank to match the actual output of the fuel level sending unit, but I had not done the same for the Empty reading.  I assumed (apparently incorrectly) that the unit would read zero ohms resistance at empty as designed and didn't actually run the tank to empty to check. Guess I need to recalibrate that later, or rehab the original sending unit I got with the car and put it back in since it seemed to function perfectly but needed a really good cleaning. 

I called home and asked Shelly to meet me at the gas station with the gas can. Luckily she was able to help - that would save me a walk back to the car and the cost of a new gas can. Since the car doesn't lock I grabbed my laptop bag and started walking.  I made it about 30 feet before a guy in a truck pulled over to offer a ride.  He dropped me off at the bottom of my exit ramp and I started walking again. I made it about 30 more feet up the ramp and a young woman offered me a ride the rest of the way - she needed to stop at the gas station anyway.  On the way she asked about the car and when I told her it was built in 1958 she seemed shocked that anything that old still functioned. I thanked her for the ride and by the way warned her not to offer any more rides to strange men. What was she thinking?

Shelly arrived with the gas can and my Father-in-Law.  We had to pay two tolls to get back to the car, but with a few gallons in the tank, it started right up. Her Dad wedged himself into the passenger seat for his first ride and we headed home.

So, after my first few months of driving this antique there is only one possible conclusion about the most unreliable part of this experiment.  It's me. I leave the lights on and drain the battery. I mis-calibrate the fuel gauge and drain the tank. I have seen the enemy and it is me. Modern cars work around me, dinging at me and blinking lights in front of me when I need to do something.  This car expects me to pay attention and know what I'm doing. Sorry car, I'll try to be more reliable from now on.