"Oh no.” Basil interrupted his game of solitaire to look out the lunchroom window. “What is Beanie into this time?”
I put down my magazine and took a look for myself. “From where I’m sitting, I’d hazard a guess that Beanie has taken up the sport of volleyball.”
Tooner gave a derisive snort. “I’ll betchya it’s got somethin’ to do with that girlfriend of his. Always does.”
He was probably right. Over the past year Samantha had taken an interest in ballroom dancing, mountain biking and stir-fry cooking. Now it looked like volleyball was the flavor of the month, and whatever activity she got involved in, she’d drag Beanie right along with her. Not that Beanie seemed to mind…
At the moment, our young tech was running around the parking lot, trying to keep a volleyball aloft in the air for as long as he could. By my count, his record was two hits. He almost got to three, but he crashed into the tire rack going for the third bump set.
“Ouch,” said Tooner. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
Beanie came into the building rubbing his nose. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of this game,” he sighed. “I sure wish Sam would take an interest in computer games – then at least I could keep up.”
“So now she’s a volleyball pro?” I asked.
Beanie’s eyes grew wide. “Is she ever! You should see the killer spikes she can fire. I have enough trouble just getting my serves over the net.”
We were interrupted by the arrival of Dutchy Smits and his tow truck. A sickly-looking 2002 Honda Civic was loaded on the back deck. Tooner and I went out to see what was up.
“Got a loose alternator,” growled Dutchy as he chewed on his thin cigarillo. “Kind of funny, though – even though the battery’s got lots of juice, the car runs very strange.”
“We’ll check it out,” I said, handing the keys to Tooner, who started the car and eased it into the service bay.
Dutchy was right; the engine stumbled and sputtered worse than Beanie engaged in a physical sport.
After a few minutes of investigation, Tooner brought me his report. “Looks like the lower adjustment bracket fell right off the alternator,” he said. “We’ll have to find a used one.”
I went looking for Beanie, but his volleyball had gotten away from him again. He was still chasing it three blocks down the street. Rather than wait for him to get back, I drove up to Rusty’s Used Iron myself and found the bracket we needed on one of his wrecked cars.
About an hour later, Tooner had the alternator bolted back into place – but the car still ran erratically. “I’ve tested the chargin’ system,” he muttered. “It’s workin’, but…” He paused. “Well, if you ask me, it’s kind of spooky.”
I looked at him. “Spooky as in…?”
He folded his arms across his chest and frowned. “The check engine light keeps flashing on and off, and as you can hear, the engine stumbles. And every time the engine light flashes, I can hear a relay clicking in behind the glove box. And if that don’t beat all, after flashing about 15 times, the charge light will go out, the check engine light will come on steady, and the temp gauge and tachometer stop working.”
He threw up his hands. “If I restart the engine, the whole mess repeats itself again – right on schedule. Oh yeah, and I can’t get any trouble codes out of it, either.”
“That is spooky.”
All of a sudden, something whooshed past the end of my nose, missing me by a whisker. Unfortunately, Tooner wasn’t so lucky. Beanie’s volleyball smacked him squarely in the forehead, knocking his grease-stained cap into the used oil bucket. It was a practice spike gone wild.
“BEANIE!!!”
“Oops! Sorry about that, Tooner! I was just working on my…”
“Quit horsin’ around and do somethin’ useful.” Tooner grimaced as he rubbed his sore head. “Start checking out the tech forums for this Honda problem before I pop-rivet that dang ball to yer backside!”
A chagrined Beanie high-tailed it over to our computer while Basil chose that moment to stop by for a consult. “If I remember correctly,” he began, “this car uses something called an electronic load detector, or ELD, to turn the alternator on and off. Maybe it’s damaged.”
Tooner mulled that over for a moment. “Well, if that’s the case, I can maybe see it not chargin’ properly…but to make the check engine light come on, and affect the tach and the temp gauge? That’s a bit of a stretch.”
“You have a point,” Basil admitted. “However, I do know that these cars use the bottom mounting bolt to ground the alternator. Maybe when the adjustment bracket fell off, it overcharged and created a voltage spike…”
“Spike?! If I hear that word one more time…” Tooner’s rant was interrupted by the reappearance of our sports star, as he cautiously edged his way over to where we stood. He held a computer printout in his hand.
“I’m afraid Basil is right, Toon.” Even though he sucked at sports, Beanie was more than adequate when it came to surfing the Net. “According to this August 2004 TSB from Honda, the computers on 2001-04 Civics can be damaged by voltage spikes from the alternator if the bottom pivot bolt isn’t tight.”
The service bulletin went on to describe many of the symptoms we were experiencing, from inoperative gauges to non-communication with the scan tool. Another call up to Rusty’s Used Iron got us a used ECM, and once it was installed and reprogrammed, our Honda ran as good as new.
As for poor Beanie, things have gone from bad to worse – a few days later, Samantha took up bowling. The first thing we had to do was forbid Beanie from practicing his bowling technique at work – even out in the parking lot.
If there’s one thing I know about bowling balls, it’s that they do leave a mark.
Rick Cogbill, a freelance writer and former shop owner in Summerland, B.C., has written The Car Side for a variety of trade magazines for the past 14 years. “A Fine Day for a Drive,” his first book based on the characters from this column, is now available for order at thecarside.com.
