A week ago, I explained how, over just four and a half days, with minimal rest at the place of an acquaintance whom I had briefly met years before, I revived Louie—an unrestored 1972 BMW 2002tii purchased unseen from Louisville—bringing him back to life so he could run, drive, and stop properly again. Yet this restoration did not signify our readiness to simply depart towards home.
Day 6: Setting Fire to the Ships
In 2014, I ran into my buddy Dave at a BMW SharkFest event. Since he resides close to the pole barn where I was busy working on Louie, he stopped by to help out with some mechanical work. Despite the fact that the car was still in an schizophrenic temperature gauge that would alternate between a reasonable reading, an uncomfortably warm one, and pegged all the way hot, and still dripped a little oil onto the exhaust manifold, it was time for its first real drive on pavement. I drove down the dirt road the pole barn was on, turned onto the asphalt, and nailed it. Dave video’d My amazed response to how smoothly the car operated (forgive my language). Even granted that it’s been my experience that vintage BMWs usually seem to want To come back to life, Louie’s fuel injection and ignition system performed just as perfectly as those found in any well-tuned 2002tii models I've experienced. The vehicle clearly yearned for a long journey, perhaps even a drive all the way to Boston. Subsequently, I invited Jake—a friend who had been my host for almost seven days—for a spin. His reaction mirrored mine completely; he too was amazed. "Wow," he exclaimed, "I wish I had purchased this car when I could have!"
I tried one last attempt at resolving the issue with the temperature gauge. In a 2002 model, erratic readings usually stem from a faulty grounding connection between the instrument cluster and the wiring harness. To fix this, I added an extra ground wire connected directly to the vehicle frame. Unfortunately, this approach proved ineffective. Jake allowed me to use his spare 2002 for parts; specifically, I borrowed both the temperature sensor and the entire gauge assembly. However, these replacements also failed to solve my problem. Consequently, I would have to accept driving without being able to accurately monitor the engine's temperature. This situation concerned me since the car was still equipped with its initial radiator.
Nonetheless, the oil leak was particularly troubling. The issue stemmed from the inability to secure the left rear corner of the valve cover gasket because the threads in the cylinder head were stripped. Despite installing a Time-Sert, this did not resolve the matter. Oil leaking directly onto an exhaust poses a significant fire risk. To address this, I applied RTV sealant to both surfaces of a fresh valve cover gasket before tightening it down. While this improved the situation somewhat, it appeared as though a small amount of oil might have still ended up on one of the manifold bolts’ threads.
"What would you like to do?" Dave inquired.
I pondered thoroughly. "Drive it once more."
On this occasion, we drove Louie out onto the highway. Apart from noticing some vagueness in the steering, the vehicle performed wonderfully. Additionally, an issue with excessive oil consumption noticed upon starting has disappeared—the exhaust fumes no longer have a blueish hue, suggesting that the piston rings have loosened up. After returning to the pole barn, I lifted the front end of the car using a jack and shook each of the front tires but found no noticeable looseness in the steering. The vague steering sensation can be attributed to the outdated suspension system of the automobile.
As The Clash put it, "Should I remain or should I depart?"
There's an excellent quote in the film. Mission to Mars When they're just moments away from making alien contact, everything becomes intense, and one character remarks, "I didn't travel this far only to stop now." I had to choose moving forward; otherwise, I would have deeply regretted it.
I followed the example of Alexander the Great and destroyed my means of retreat—Dave drove me to Louisville where I returned the rental SUV, ensuring my only option was to stay in Louie. Since Dave’s place wasn’t too far away, he took over watching Jacob and Elizabeth, relieving them of their babysitting duties as hack mechanics. That evening, I dined with Dave and his wife, Barbara, and ended up spending the night at their house.
Day 7: Launch. Followed immediately by sudden dismantling.
In the morning, Dave and I went back to the pole barn to tackle several safety concerns with the car—fixing the turn signals, dealing with non-functional low-beam headlights while keeping the weak high beams as they were, and replacing the faulty driver’s side seatbelt with the functional one from the passenger side. We also examined the windshield wipers; although they operated correctly, their sluggish movement at all speeds mirrored common issues found in classic vehicles. Additionally, we noted that Louie retained its original wiper blades which couldn’t use standard replacement parts. Upon checking the condition of the rubber components, they seemed adequate enough. However, the washer system wasn’t functioning properly, prompting thoughts about long journeys marred by dirty windshields covered in bugs. Fortunately, when Jake offered to apply Rain-X treatment to my windshield, I accepted his help willingly.
I made just one purely aesthetic fix—turning the car’s dual kidney grille to ensure it was properly aligned, enabling Louie to be driven with pride rather than being criticized by fans of the 2002 model.
I tidied up the chaos caused by Hurricane Louie-Rob at Jake’s pole barn, managed to fit an SUV load of tools and parts into my vehicle, and briefly discussed with Jake how much I owed him for storing everything. I expressed deep gratitude for his and Liz’s kindness, their generosity, and their crucial part in the journey. With Louie, we set off to face whatever awaited us.
Dave accompanied me to a gas station located near the start of the I-65 on-ramp for the departure. Events escalated quickly once we arrived. After filling the tank, as Dave and I prepared to part ways, I noticed fuel leaking beneath the rear end of the vehicle. It dawned upon me that during the cleaning process, I must have improperly secured the o-ring atop the tank. Although extracting all items from the trunk seemed unappealing, necessity compelled me to do just that before exposing it further. My intention was to relocate the car to a more discreet area within the parking lot where this could be done without drawing attention. Yet, when I pressed down on the clutch pedal, it sank directly to the bottom due to what appeared to be hydraulic failure. Clearly, an effortless takeoff wasn't going to happen today. Still, it’s preferable having issues now rather than 50 miles into the journey.
I began driving with the car in gear, nudged it into moving, then rushed back to Jake’s metal shop and contacted him about the situation. Afterward, Dave and I got right to work and identified that even though I had installed a new clutch slave cylinder, the master cylinder was also faulty. Finding such parts for a BMW 2002, particularly a more specialized variant like the 2002tii, would be impossible at large retailers or dealerships due to their rarity.
I posted the "Need a Clutch Master Cylinder" message on Facebook, and surprisingly, a guy named Lance—who’s passionate about BMWs and lives 100 miles away in Cincinnati—took me up on it. He offered to bring his spare part and suggested meeting midway. Dave accompanied me for this trip, and we completed the swap in the parking area of a McDonald's. As usual, I found myself grateful once more to an anonymous benefactor whose kindness came through when needed most.
Dave and I went back to the pole barn and swapped out the master cylinder. It’s a challenging task even when conditions are ideal because accessing the nuts is tricky; regular box or open-ended wrenches won’t fit due to limited space. So, we headed over to a nearby Harbor Freight for some crowfoot wrenches. After removing all contents from the trunk, we reset the seal, only to discover that the source of the leak was an aged, stiff O-ring. I decided against refilling the tank this time around. Feeling tired and chilled, we took the now-operational Louie back to Dave’s place.
Early in the day, I set off for good, staying close to the edge so I could easily pull over if necessary. As time went on, the rain intensified, making it clear that I had not realized how crucial new windshield wipers were. I pulled into the nearest auto supply shop, purchased a pair of generic 13-inch blade units, attached them with cable ties onto my current wipers, traveled a short distance, and discovered that this solution wasn’t very effective.
I persevered until I reached Lance’s garage in Cincinnati. Upon inspecting the wiper blades, he chuckled and stated, "We maintain a strict no-duct tape rule in this workshop." Then, with great care, he inserted the new rubber pieces into Louise’s half-century-old windshield wipers as his technician, Safet, elevated the vehicle using the hydraulic lift. Apart from the gasoline odor emanating from the leaky fuel tank, everything else seemed fine upon inspection.
Safet asked me, "Are there any other problems?" I brought up the issue with the "brake debris," where we found bits of what seemed like degraded rubber seals from the master cylinder inside the brake lines. Safet responded, "We might have an extra unit available for you if needed." This made me feel much better.
I didn’t have a specific plan for where I wanted to go that night; I just intended to keep driving northward until either the car started acting up or I felt ready to stop. The vehicle decided otherwise—it began showing signs of trouble sooner than expected with the erratic temperature gauge creeping towards the hot zone instead of fluctuating wildly. That prompted me to take an exit right away. Thankfully, I made this decision because the nut securing the alternator pivot bolt had loosened due to vibration, which caused the fan belt to become loose once more. To be safe from potential overheating issues, I arranged for a new radiator to be delivered overnight to my buddy Paul’s place close to Pittsburgh.
Day 8: Heavy rainfall. Plenty of rain.
The unusually mild winter persisted, yet regrettably the rainfall intensified to the extent that it poured through Louie’s worn-out, contracted windshield seal, accumulating into a substantial pool on the driver’s side carpet. Although I anticipated problems with the heating and defroster being inadequate, this level of leakage caught me off guard.
The vehicle experienced yet another belt-related issue, triggered this time by an overlooked rubber bushing—besides those present on the alternator, similar bushings can be found on the adjustment bracket. Since I lacked replacements, I fashioned one from a piece of discarded fuel hose. (This is precisely why " belts" feature among my 'Big Seven' components prone to malfunction during lengthy trips with classic cars.)
Moreover, Louie’s outdated exhaust had transformed from robust to runny, yet this didn’t indicate a problem with dependability. Actually, the noise merely enhanced the overall sensory experience for me. As I approached my buddy Paul’s place in Harmony, PA—a stopover en route—I reached a state of calm where everything about the journey clicked into place. The engine remained intact without exploding. There were no deafening grinding sounds coming from the differential. No longer did I cling tightly to the far-right lane as though it would protect me. Instead, both vehicle and driver glided smoothly forward. It felt surreal driving an old 1972 BMW 2002tii that resembled a straight-pipe setup, fulfilling some peculiar dream involving a non-functioning car during a road trip. Overwhelmed with joy, tears welled up in my eyes. Upon spotting the "Harmony" exit sign off I-79, it struck me how cinematic this part of my life seemed at that instant. They'd surely dramatize such moments in movies, wouldn't they?
When I arrived at Paul’s, I bounced the issue of the jumpy temperature gauge off him. We tried grounding it a different way, and it made no difference. During the test drive, though, the muffler hanger was kind enough to break, causing the exhaust to drag on the pavement. Fortunately I had a coat hanger in the trunk (the only item that’s a tool and Unfortunately, the radiator I had ordered hadn't shown up.
Day 9: Continued rainfall, with only 600 more miles left
I wasn't planning to be back home within a single day, yet that ended up being exactly how things unfolded. Initially, I experienced some delays due to intermittent rainfall and an awaited radiator never showed up. After stopping briefly in Scranton for coffee with a buddy, Louie and I decided to press onward. Interestingly enough, the most extended stretch turned out to be rather uneventful. During this journey, we faced only one issue—a recurring problem where the drivebelt would slip, necessitating frequent adjustments each time we refueled. Eventually, my trusty emerald-green 2002tii pulled smoothly into my garage sometime around 9:30 pm. Thus concluded my adventurous road trip with a dead car.
[Insert picture: img_0316. Caption: "Back at home... I enjoy being here whenever I can..."]
Epilogue
It remains, and always will be, the most thrilling experience I've ever had with a vehicle. Upon returning, everyday life seemed duller—food lost some flavor, hues appeared less vivid. However, significant risks were involved too. It astonishes me now that I ventured out without installing a completely new cooling setup. Despite the erratic temperature gauge, the car ran smoothly through unusually mild yet relatively cold winter conditions; however, attempting this stunt in summertime might have led to drastically different outcomes. Similarly, rushing the brake work within set time constraints posed hazards—I replaced only the front calipers and hoses, leaving the rear ones untouched, even though the master cylinder could have been compromised. Yet, fortunately, the braking system worked perfectly when needed, and having a backup master cylinder ready certainly helped mitigate potential issues.
Many individuals told me, "Nobody but you could have pulled this off." Although that statement isn't accurate, it did require what Liam Neeson described as a specific set of abilities. Being far from home and relying on another person's generosity—snoozing in their guest room and laboring in an unfamiliar workspace—it becomes imperative to accomplish tasks much more quickly compared to when you're comfortably setting up shop in your own garage for just half an hour each evening. The mindset shifts from doing something correctly the first time around to simply getting it finished. My specialty lay in sidestepping potential pitfalls and strictly focusing my efforts solely on completing essential tasks needed for the journey back home. Admittedly, some mistakes were made along the way, yet such determination remained crucial throughout the process.
Following my return home, I geared up Louie for its upcoming journey to "The Vintage," a 2,000-mile round-trip gathering hosted by BMW in Asheville. This involved removing and refurbishing the heater box, fitting a new windshield seal, installing a fresh exhaust system, putting in a brand-new radiator, and conducting another thorough inspection of the braking system—this time around, this entailed changing out the master cylinder as well.
However, it was during my time at the BMW CCA Museum as part of the "2002 Icon" exhibition that I stumbled upon something truly revealing. As I adjusted the valves, I noticed the area where the consistently loose valve cover stud threads into the cylinder head appeared cracked. This explained why it kept leaking from that spot—tightening the valve cover merely widened the fissure further. Additionally, I observed that someone had attempted to fix this issue using blue RTV sealer, indicating that previous owners were aware of the problem. It’s unlikely that the person who sold me the car was responsible since they were new to working with 2002 models.
From an operational perspective when stationary, this decision was logical. The former owner likely received news of a "cracked head," accompanied by a hefty repair quote running into several thousand dollars, leading them to simply park the vehicle. It remained untouched for ten years as a result. For the time being, I tackled the issue with Permatex “The Right Stuff” (essentially a sealant similar to concrete) applied to the valve cover gasket. However, during my next long drive, the crack widened sufficiently to allow oil leakage directly from within the fissure. I repaired it using J-B Weld. And continued driving that vehicle for an additional two-and-a-half years until I encountered a reason to stop. tug at the head and have it welded .
Over the last several years, Louie has been equipped with a complete suspension system and an upgraded air conditioning unit. A couple of years back, I took the vehicle for a drive to the MidAmerica 02 Fest in Arkansas—an impressive journey spanning 3,000 miles round-trip. My connection with Louie remains robust. When reflecting upon it, our bonds with automobiles tend to be profound and enduring particularly through shared journeys and escapades. It’s hard to imagine a more unifying experience than the one I had alongside Louie.
I have felt like doing it once more. The next year, I purchased a operating a 1987 BMW E28 535i manual transmission sedan in Florida And then he had it towed to a friend’s place. Though this friend isn’t a mechanic, taking a short spin around the neighborhood uncovered even more issues than anticipated. After crunching numbers comparing sending the vehicle versus driving it myself, I decided shipping was the better option. It turns out to be fortunate because the engine ended up having a faulty rocker arm. However, as I approach my golden years, the likelihood of choosing such an adventurous project over activities with my spouse at fancy hotels becomes increasingly slim. Thus, embarking on another journey like the Louie trip might very well remain a singular experience.
The main takeaway from the dead car road trip is that what initially started as an endeavor where I envisioned going head-to-head with the vehicle, relying solely on my ingenuity to dominate it, transformed into a narrative highlighting the generosity of strangers. None of this would have been possible, let alone successful, without Jake and Liz welcoming me into their homes, Dave and Barbara’s assistance and warm hospitality, Lance magically providing a crucial master cylinder, and aid from numerous others too. Thus, similar to many experiences within the automotive realm, even though it might begin focused on the vehicles, ultimately it all comes down to the people involved. still focus on the individuals who avoid such risks and madness.
Oh behold! There’s a '63 Studebaker Avanti parked that has a manual transmission and comes with both factory AC and nice rims, all available at an affordable price in Iowa City. A college buddy of mine lives around here and owes me a favor. Hmm… maybe it’s actually me who owes him one. him A favor. This happened quite some time ago.
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Rob’s latest book, The Ultimate Collection of The Hack Mechanic: 35 Years of Hacks, Kludges, and Various Automotive Chaos It is available on Amazon. here His remaining seven books are accessible. here On Amazon, or you can purchase individually dedicated editions directly from Rob’s website. www.robsiegel.com .
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