GoDlesS mAn

Another meeting for N.A at the mental health ward last night. Was quite neat. There was a very disjointed conversation with some utter gems thrown in. Absolutely brilliant talking to relatively high functioning nutters. The number 7 came up a lot.

This is not surprising. 22 divided by 7 is PI of course.

So it is not surprising at all that the number seven was important.

How many people going through acute mental distress like the number 7?


I was busy trying to work out why the reverse lights weren’t coming on. The lights on the number plate still work (I think) so started tracing the wiring. Of course they go to the gearbox eventually. So I pulled the gearbox out and found a wire had come off the reverse switch on the side of the NWC T5 rattle box.


Well. This is a clutch. One severely fucked Exeedy “HD” clutch. Think I was sold a lemon.

Look at that flywheel. That’s the big wheel thing with the spikes on the outside and top left. You *should not* be able to feel 1mm deep grooves in this item.

The cellphone pictures don’t do this justice, but to the right of the flywheel is the clutch pressure plate. This has turned a blue / green colour. One can only imagine how hot it was getting. It is 12 or 14mm thick steel, and it has melted spots and surface marbling and cracks! HOT, I imagine. 

At bottom left is the clutch. You should not see the metal rivet heads like that. This side was against the flywheel. The pressure plate has no such excuse. It had not hit the rivets yet. 

The last picture is the clutch mess that was in the bottom of the bellhousing. Hmm, interesting. Light as a feather. Would make good insulation. 

Hmmmmph. Lucky the reverse lights weren’t working so I pulled the gearbox out. Otherwise I may have never found this.

Went out PICK-A-PART as destroyed yet another oil pressure sender whilst trying to get the damn top 13mm bolt out the starter motor. They didn’t have a EF or EL Fairmont, only one old ED with a pressure sender (and they are different) and only two Falcons of 95-2002 vintage.

I sat around talking shit, as I do, and then a bloody dynamic white Heritage edition Fairmont went past the office on top of a forklift. YES BABY. I LOVE PICK-A-PART SOMETIMES!

HOLY SHIT. I ran to Mums car, grabbed my tools and spent a good hour pissing about with virgin car. Good fun.

Bought the mag wheels off an AU for $250. Three good tyres, one stuffed. Cannot complain, going to put a tyre on (unfortunately 225/40/16 or something…) and then put the four wheels on so I can get a warrant! Heheheheheh. This beats the $250 per tyre I have to pay in order to get half decent tyres on my real wheels.

And why was I driving Mums car? Because she went to England in order to hold hands with her Mum whilst her Mum died (that’s my Gran…) She was due back today, so whilst my car is sitting in Butlers drive with no ability to move under it’s own power (the T5 is in the bottom of the pit as earthquake ballast for the garage…) figured I needed her car more than she. So, Mum is good. Amazing actually. I think she is less stressed now her Mum and Daughter died.

Life. It ends in death. Almost without fail.

Is funny driving past pigs in the Hyundai. They don’t look at me at all. So I drive around the block and drive back past a few times… Just coz I can.


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