Negafen

You know your Bimmers, yup it's an E30. It is however a special "rally" version that was only in Germany. So the body style is slightly different, the wheels are bigger, extra power, and I've got extra speakers. So not only did I lose my e30, it was a special one.

I was chatting with a cute girl on the bus back I'm gonna have to start prowling the parts for sale section for deals to make up my lost budget... well, I probably won't be able to get it going until christmas break now. Who thinks I can install a new interior, and do the body work in 3 days of intense work? Is it even possible? I'm suspecting no. I can maybe get it home and safe in 3 days. Anyone have a vehicle shipping service they can recommend?

Who knows, maybe I'll luck out and a hybrdiz member from seattle will be willing to give me a tow/help me fix the brakes and ujoint sometime tomorrow. *hint hint members from seattle* The $2150 that got grabbed was pretty much my entire aesthetics budget unfortunately. So now I can't afford the new interior/paint.

or the real DevilZ or bad dayZ I've split it into chapters to make it easier to read in a few goes. This is pretty much the worst thing ever. But it was fun, if problematic. This is the SHORTEST I can condense my last days to. Chapter 0: Pregame Shuffle I decide to buy and restore a 240Z, for a few weeks I'm looking, and eventually I track down a prime candidate. Little rust, mechanically sound (just a damaged u-joint). The paint looks awful (bumpers are great apparently) and the interior is ruined but all there. Hash out a budget, and decide to buy it. The guy keeps giving me the run-around and finally on the 7th it's time. I've got to head back to school on the 14th so I grit my teeth and decide to go for it. Hopefully I can get it ready and roadtrip it over. I grab a second driver, and I'm on my way to get it. Small trip, about 3 hours each way, and a quick stop at the border. Chapter 1: 49th parallel I'm not a big fan of crossing into the USA, often get hassled, and often get stuck for four hours. This time is no exception. Fine, I can deal with that... the wait sucks though. Pull up to the little window, the fellow in the closet demands papers that aren't actually required. When it becomes clear I didn't bring them, he gets miffed and decideds that the issue is my car is dripping water, so I have to go park in the inspection area. Apprently it's dripping too much water, so I lay down on the ground to take a look, loose clamp. I say "oh, I'll just tighten that up real quick is that alright?" as I'm already getting my tools out. Nope. Denied. Go home. Can't have you dripping water all over the road. Garr. Fine. ♥♥♥♥. My second driver backs out, and I take them home, fix the leak. BACK TO THE BORDER. This time it's only an hour or so to the closet. Oh wonder of wonders, there's a note in the computer about this vehicle, go to the inspection area, take this little yellow slip inside. There are nine border guys at desks, and only two other people in this room, I figure this'll be quick. Why do I make such assumptions? After 30 minutes I get my chance. I give him all my stuff and the guy enters some (soooo slowly) and then zones out... huh? I say "last time I came through my car was dripping, so I fixed it up." The guy asks for my keys and wanders away. He doesn't believe me, apparently the system doesn't say WHY I was flagged, just that I was. So half an hour of them trying to break my car. He returns all proud holding the bottle of whiskey I bought at the duty free. YOU are not 21 yet. YOU were born in 86 .... Yes I am. NO, YOU were born in 86! Right, it's 2008, this is my 22nd year. the fellow wanders away, and gets a calculator, while punching the numbers in a look of disgust crosses his face as he realizes. Fine, you're fee to go. And he dismisses me with a backhanded wave, no longer willing to look at me. Now, I'm not commenting on anything with what I'm saying here... but the guy who kept me there for over an hour was at least a million pounds, and the whole time he was eating a maaaassive chocolate bar and struggling slightly to breathe. He was doing his best to ruin my plans, be unfriendly, and rude underneath a big banner that stated "WE ARE THE FACE OF OUR NATION". I should have realized these were omens "go home... things are about to go very bad... RUN! WHILE YOU STILL CAN!" Nope, I wanted my 240z... and I was gonna pay for it. Chapter 2: High times on the High way. Roaring down the highway in my lovely BMW 325ix I'm in a good mood. I've got my 10 speaker system going, I'm on my way, traffic is great the day is beautiful. I get a little lost, but it's okay, I've got my laptop. I pull up alongside a wifi enabled bus, and over the course of 45 minutes very slowly type in where I want to go, and get a map (I was suuuper careful while doing this) It's supposed to be a four hour drive from the border, and I managed to make it in 2:30 without speeding like mad or anything, so I'm pretty pleased. Now, something to understand is that the guy is in a different place than the 240z is, so I had been planning to swing by him, make the deal, drive the 240z home, then come back a few days later for the BMW. Swing past on my roadtrip to school and drop a driver off. But as it's getting late, I decide I'll just get it a day later, no prob, it'll take a day for the parts to arrive anyway. So, get to the guy, chat it up a bit, he'd been tooling around on it, it runs, sounds good, drives, and so on... but uh, maybe the brakes aren't the best, and maybe the rad leaks, and maybe the driver door doesn't close. Garr, hauls me out here for this? Fine. I barter the price down... way down in fact. Below half of what we had agreed. An absolute steal. So, with a wallet bursting at the seams with cash I head out for home. Chapter 3: Afraid of the Dark About 1 light from the I-5 this big black truck comes veering into my lane and slams into me. He'd been braking hard, and so had I, so it wasn't very high speed at the time of the collision, doesn't even pop any airbags, and I've seen speedbumps pop them. I get thrown over a lane, and into the curb/planter thing, and graze a pole. I sit there for a moment and then "FUUUUUUCK". I look around, the only witnesses pause for a moment, don't check up on either driver, and just drive around the accident and head off down the road... So, I've met a border guard who hated me, a mechanic who would turn out to be quite a liar, witnesses who couldn't care less if either of us had survived, and an elderly gent who had smacked me with his truck. I'm not feeling so good about my decision to study in the states at this point. Okay, fine. He's calling someone, and a cop has shown up. So no worries, we'll sort this out. We get out of our cars, move them off the road, inspect damage, the usual stuff. I've got a smashed up front left corner, and that tire is flat because a twisted piece of skirt has jabbed the tire. Car runs just as perfect as normal though. I'm pretty shook up, never been in an accident before. Three of his family members show up, and start flipping out, yelling at me, at the cop, making accusations. Claim it was high speed, claim I ran the red (I had in fact stopped, and drank a vanilla coke, checked my map, and waited for the light). So, the other cop gives, and claims a phantom sheriff who I'm not allowed to talk to said I ran the red. How much have I had to drink, nothing, when was the last time I smoked, smoked what? Oh I don't. Stand on one foot, let me see your hands, here's an infraction. I'd like to make a statement no, I'm calling you a tow truck and leaving. Huh? Is this how it is in the US? Tow driver drops me at Denny's, and advises me not to stay in any non chain motels. I call home as I'm sorta stuck, decide to spend the night. Alright, get a cab and a milkshake, go to (on the cabbies advice) a specific not-seedy motel where I basically shower then pass out. Now things get... creepy... In the middle of the night there's this frantic knocking at my door, just uninterrupted *wham wham wham wham wham wham wham wham wham wham* I shout as loud as I can "Who's there?" I don't get an answer, and this IS a seedy motel, so I don't answer. A moment later my curtains are opened, and a bright flashlight is shined on me and I start getting bombarded by questions. Once my eyes adjust it's a cop demanding I get up... I was too tired to get redressed after my shower so... I kinda don't want to come outside to answer questions "can I get dressed" "yes" "...can you look away or something, I'm naked" "no"... I pause for a moment "GET UP! GET UP!" the second cop says "Man, he's a white guy, it's not who we're looking for, let him go back to sleep. First cop sights and states "you should latch your window." Crawl out of bed once they're gone, close my window again, latch it again, go back to sleep. The next morning I wake up, still kinda weirded out... I've been robbed. My wallet's gone. My cell is gone. My papers are gone. Luckily I still have my laptop (which has no batteries left) my birth certificate, my bill of sale, my keys and about $21. Turns out the window CAN'T be latched. Twice I had thought I closed it shut tight, both times it turned out you could just open it from the outside with a little bit of fiddling. Chapter 4: In it for the long haul So, okay, now what? My in room phone doesn't work, and I can't reach the lobby, a guy comes around demanding $60 for a second night "I'm leaving, gimme a moment to pack". Go to the lobby, talk to the lobby lady, she's unwilling to check the tapes, and she's unwilling to help, she eventually ignores me and shuts her window. Fine. I call the cab company to see if maybe I left stuff in there? They're unhelpful, and she's unplugged the phone I'm using inside, and screaming at the $60 guy from before. Oh God Where Am I. What city am I in? What do I do? Call the consulate! Press 0 if you're a canadian citizen having an emergency. 0. Thank you for calling the consulate, please leave a message as to the nature of your emergency, and where we can reach you. We estimate the current wait for a return call to be at least 48 hours. ... Oh God Where Am I. What city am I in? What do I do? Call the cops and hunker down! Where are you? I don't know... uhhh this and that intersection. What happened? I was robbed. At knifepoint or gunpoint? No, while I was asleep... Look, I'm a Canadian and I have no money no papers, and no idea where I am, nobody will be able to get me for probably a day... and I have nowhere to stay or anything. Okay, we'll send someone over. So, an hour later officer Rob shows up. Lemme tell you about Rob. You may think he's a mean guy, he's a SWAT officer after all, but he's the first nice person I met during my time down there. AND a bad little asian dude. He hangs out with me for a while, trys to sort out how to get me home. He can get me pretty much anywhere with a few hops, if I don't mind trusting a few locals. Of course not, I like you officer Rob. Officer McGinnis shows up as well, she's some form of community outreach officer, so this falls in her jurisdiction. With a bit of chatting we decide that if I can get to the 240, I can just drive that home. He writes me a note saying something like "Let this guy go despite the lack of insurance, he literally CANNOT put any on it right now." Can't get me an escort, but can get me a get out of being pulled over free card. He says if I do get pulled over they're likely to escort me from there on. AWESOME. Officer McGinnis goes off to find me a few rides, and a way to get to my impounded BMW where the parts to boot up the 240z are. Rob gets a call while we're waiting for McGinnis to come back, and he deputizes me to guard the second vehicle. "Don't let anyone get in this, if they try... arrest them" AWESOME. The residents of Vagabond Inn (shoulda known) come over to ask why I've been talking to the officers so much, I tell them the story... they're kinda drunk and stoned (even though it's 11am) so they only sort of follow. One of them goes to lean on the second squadcar and I go "HEY! If you touch that car, I'll have to arrest you" they all go wide eyed and wander away. I'm actually having a decent time at this point. Look how much story I've racked up in a 26 hr period! I think "the guys on hybridZ'll love this." McGinnis comes back, and she found me a ride with a trucker. I like truckers, they're great to talk to. They're on the road even more than I am. Whenever I'm in trouble I look for a trucker, or a biker to help me out, and they always do. So, a nice long drive, a good chat about travelling and whatnot. I get a few tips of things to go see. He drops off his truck, we get in his well... normal size truck, and he brings me to the 240. A small adventure in itself. the location it was at was apparently at 312 st 199 Burien/Normandy Park Wa. So it existed in two cities at once at an intersection that didn't exist. We did sort it out thought HOUSE 312 on SOUTH 199 in Burien. But it was a headscratcher He doesn't just dump me either, he helps me check it over and breathe life into it (we switch a leaky hose). The engine sounds FANTASTIC it starts in under a crank, it runs great, revs great, and so on. A 5 speed was swapped in and the new trans was HUGE. I love it. I love the lines, I love the engine bay, I love the little weird flaps that open to reveal more stuff. I love the steering wheel. I love that the door handles are in entirely the wrong place. I don't care that there's no radio, and sloppy wiring, I'm planning to change all that anyway. I don't care that the clutch is a bit finicky, I'll learn it. I send my buddy Trucker Tim on his way, and with a big fat grin do the last little things, bit of gas, bit of cleaners, adjust the seat and set off. Gonna make it, finally. I'll be careful, drive slow, watch the gauges, be home in 5 hours. Stop off for treats often, I got $21, and a jerry can with a ton of extra fuel beyond the full tank that's in there. No problem at all. Chapter 5: Homeward bound wasn't really a great movie, but I liked it anyway. Vroom vrooom. Off I go, I pull out of the driveway, roll down a little hill, go to brake and... they don't work, you have to pump em up a good 4 times and then they're super pathetic NOOOOOOOOOO I CAN'T DRIVE THIS BACK it barely stops at low speeds. Okay, so what's wrong.... can't pop the hood ♥♥♥♥, fiddle, no go... okay shop time. Don't worry, it's 3:something pm on a friday, there will be shops. I park it. Jump out, and RUN to the nearest stripmall. Now, I'm not just a bumpkin student. I'm actually a national team athlete. I'm not gonna say which one, but I'm a Fencer. I run the 100m in about 10 seconds, and I CAN complete marathons. It's hot 40c/105f. It's too hot. Stretch, and GO. I run to the stripmall, no phone use allowed anywhere, and no payphones. Where's the nearest, a few blocks at the end of this street, it's called the QFC. Okay, I remember the QFC, we drove past it. I know where it is. GO! RUN! I run... and run... and run... and where is it? after an HOUR of running I get there. I run into a starbucks and make change for the payphones that are there "Sorry, can I make change, I'll be back in 5 minutes to buy something, I have to make a call real quick. The phone is broken. Next payphone... broken... last payphone "I'm sorry man, it's 4:30 we close at 5 we can't do it for you" "how about tomorrow?" "We're not open on saturday." The same everywhere... I can't find a shop. I'm done, I'm out of options, I can't afford a motel, I can't afford the bus. Gotta know when to fold em, I put up an EPIC fight I figure, so no shame MOOOOMMMMY I'm looost and poor and tiiiired and I don't have any money and I'm in burien and the car is broken and I don't have time to explain and someone come get me . Family is great. They'll come to the starbucks, and they'll be there in 3-4 hours. Okay. I go to the bucks, buy a big fat banana chocolate smoothie with 3 shots of espresso and settle in for a good long wait, tell my story. I decide I shouldn't leave my laptop and whatnot lying in my exposed 240, soooo I decide to do the run back, give me something to do I spose. Run run run run run run run run get my stuff walk walk walk jog jog jog jog run run run run feel ill and dizzy briefly walk walk walk. Back at the parking lot. Chapter 6: Serendipity is not always a good thing Gary? Is that you? GARY IT IS YOU! Now, Gary is a fencing coach, I haven't seen him in years, but him and my coach are very good friends from the good ole days in the USSR. Fencers are a tight knit bunch, I am officially safe. The nice gay Barista from the starbucks comes running out he was tho worried about me, and did I find everythan that I needed? I assure him I'm fine, he assures me that if I needed aything, anything at all I should call him and here's his number. I'm fine, and I head off with Gary. We decide maybe a bus home is the best plan (it wasn't). He drops me off, and presses a big wad of cash into my hands. So, Sea-Tac airport, and I figure I'll catch the 11 o'clock quick shuttle, I live RIGHT by its final stop. As I walk through the airport I get talked to by 3-4 charity groups "could you spare just $2 to buy supplies for one child to go to school? No I was robbed, I don't have $2 where's the bus? You were robbed? Ya, where's the bus, down that way, god bless. Turns out there is no 11 quick shuttle at the moment, ffffffffffffffff not actually pissed, I just chuckle and declare "ya, that's not surprising really. and I missed the 7 by about 4 minutes. Maybe the charity's weren't doing good? Well good god damn and other such phrases. Fine, greyhound, I bus to the terminal, and the nice russian driver upon hearing I haven't got real id, I was robbed, and a fencer and so on decideds I'm not paying the $13 fare (fencers are big celebs everywhere but North America, so I always tell foreigners I'm a national team fencer). You can't board the bus without proper ID. But I have my birth certificate. I'm sorry that doesn't count as it doesn't prove you live in Canada. Please please please call your manager... Same ole sob story, okay I get a ticket. 10:30 I'm going home. YES! Delayed, make that 11 Delayed, make that 12 Okay now we're moving, I'm sitting to a nice guy, we chat, split snackfoods and have a good trip. We both know everyone is listening to our insane stories (he just got finished biking to Seattle from California) he gets off in Bellingham and it's just a quick hop to the border. Ah, the border... I'm going to be back in Canada soon, maybe I'll even be able to import my car despite not being in it. I've got all my papers after all. No. Sorry, try again. See you later. Back on the bus, why aren't we leaving? Well... because we have two illegals with us. FANTASTIC. So, an hour of delay, I set about making friends with everyone who isn't asleep. We're having a good time, all we needed was a few drinks and we would've thrown a party. This story IS a long sequence of awful events but I was in a great mood. I figure I could either be in a good mood, or break down and freak out. Canada admits the illegals, cause we're nice. And we're on our way... just kidding the bus breaks down. Bus gets fixed, we're on our way. We arrive at the greyhound terminal, which is far from my house. I get a cab.. the sun comes up. I give him the last of my money, crawl into my house to find my dad making breakfast... see, the plan had been to set out early on this Saturday to get the impounded car and the 240. I mumble something, he tells me to go to bed. I grudgingly oblige (by which I mean I immediately go to sleep without even so much as brushing my teeth.) Conclusion: No it isn't. I'm out: $2150 us 1 BMW 325ix 3 days I'm up an undriveable 240z way far away from where I live. Consequences? I don't have time to finish it, and won't be able to take it on my trip most likely. I can't afford my plane ticket to school. I can't afford my fees for school. Today I try to call some shops down there, to see if they'll tow the car and fix it. They're not open until Monday. I have to leave on Wednesday if I drive... My tools are here, my parts are here, my space is here, my painting stuff is here. So my attempt to get myself a perfectly restored 240z has left me totally screwed.

the devil inZide or the real DevilZ or bad dayZ Chapter 0: Pregame Shuffle I decide to buy and restore a 240Z, for a few weeks I'm looking, and eventually I track down a prime candidate. Little rust, mechanically sound (just a damaged u-joint). The paint looks awful (bumpers are great apparently) and the interior is ruined but all there. Hash out a budget, and decide to buy it. The guy keeps giving me the run-around and finally on the 7th it's time. I've got to head back to school on the 14th so I grit my teeth and decide to go for it. Hopefully I can get it ready and roadtrip it over. I grab a second driver, and I'm on my way to get it. Small trip, about 3 hours each way, and a quick stop at the border. Chapter 1: 49th parallel I'm not a big fan of crossing into the USA, often get hassled, and often get stuck for four hours. This time is no exception. Fine, I can deal with that... the wait sucks though. Pull up to the little window, the fellow in the closet demands papers that aren't actually required. When it becomes clear I didn't bring them, he gets miffed and decideds that the issue is my car is dripping water, so I have to go park in the inspection area. Apprently it's dripping too much water, so I lay down on the ground to take a look, loose clamp. I say "oh, I'll just tighten that up real quick is that alright?" as I'm already getting my tools out. Nope. Denied. Go home. Can't have you dripping water all over the road. Garr. Fine. ♥♥♥♥. My second driver backs out, and I take them home, fix the leak. BACK TO THE BORDER. This time it's only an hour or so to the closet. Oh wonder of wonders, there's a note in the computer about this vehicle, go to the inspection area, take this little yellow slip inside. There are nine border guys at desks, and only two other people in this room, I figure this'll be quick. Why do I make such assumptions? After 30 minutes I get my chance. I give him all my stuff and the guy enters some (soooo slowly) and then zones out... huh? I say "last time I came through my car was dripping, so I fixed it up." The guy asks for my keys and wanders away. He doesn't believe me, apparently the system doesn't say WHY I was flagged, just that I was. So half an hour of them trying to break my car. He returns all proud holding the bottle of whiskey I bought at the duty free. YOU are not 21 yet. YOU were born in 86 .... Yes I am. NO, YOU were born in 86! Right, it's 2008, this is my 22nd year. the fellow wanders away, and gets a calculator, while punching the numbers in a look of disgust crosses his face as he realizes. Fine, you're fee to go. And he dismisses me with a backhanded wave, no longer willing to look at me. Now, I'm not commenting on anything with what I'm saying here... but the guy who kept me there for over an hour was at least a million pounds, and the whole time he was eating a maaaassive chocolate bar and struggling slightly to breathe. He was doing his best to ruin my plans, be unfriendly, and rude underneath a big banner that stated "WE ARE THE FACE OF OUR NATION". I should have realized these were omens "go home... things are about to go very bad... RUN! WHILE YOU STILL CAN!" Nope, I wanted my 240z... and I was gonna pay for it. Chapter 2: High times on the High way. Roaring down the highway in my lovely BMW 325ix I'm in a good mood. I've got my 10 speaker system going, I'm on my way, traffic is great the day is beautiful. I get a little lost, but it's okay, I've got my laptop. I pull up alongside a wifi enabled bus, and over the course of 45 minutes very slowly type in where I want to go, and get a map (I was suuuper careful while doing this) It's supposed to be a four hour drive from the border, and I managed to make it in 2:30 without speeding like mad or anything, so I'm pretty pleased. Now, something to understand is that the guy is in a different place than the 240z is, so I had been planning to swing by him, make the deal, drive the 240z home, then come back a few days later for the BMW. Swing past on my roadtrip to school and drop a driver off. But as it's getting late, I decide I'll just get it a day later, no prob, it'll take a day for the parts to arrive anyway. So, get to the guy, chat it up a bit, he'd been tooling around on it, it runs, sounds good, drives, and so on... but uh, maybe the brakes aren't the best, and maybe the rad leaks, and maybe the driver door doesn't close. Garr, hauls me out here for this? Fine. I barter the price down... way down in fact. Below half of what we had agreed. An absolute steal. So, with a wallet bursting at the seams with cash I head out for home. Chapter 3: Afraid of the Dark About 1 light from the I-5 this big black truck comes veering into my lane and slams into me. He'd been braking hard, and so had I, so it wasn't very high speed at the time of the collision, doesn't even pop any airbags, and I've seen speedbumps pop them. I get thrown over a lane, and into the curb/planter thing, and graze a pole. I sit there for a moment and then "FUUUUUUCK". I look around, the only witnesses pause for a moment, don't check up on either driver, and just drive around the accident and head off down the road... So, I've met a border guard who hated me, a mechanic who would turn out to be quite a liar, witnesses who couldn't care less if either of us had survived, and an elderly gent who had smacked me with his truck. I'm not feeling so good about my decision to study in the states at this point. Okay, fine. He's calling someone, and a cop has shown up. So no worries, we'll sort this out. We get out of our cars, move them off the road, inspect damage, the usual stuff. I've got a smashed up front left corner, and that tire is flat because a twisted piece of skirt has jabbed the tire. Car runs just as perfect as normal though. I'm pretty shook up, never been in an accident before. Three of his family members show up, and start flipping out, yelling at me, at the cop, making accusations. Claim it was high speed, claim I ran the red (I had in fact stopped, and drank a vanilla coke, checked my map, and waited for the light). So, the other cop gives, and claims a phantom sheriff who I'm not allowed to talk to said I ran the red. How much have I had to drink, nothing, when was the last time I smoked, smoked what? Oh I don't. Stand on one foot, let me see your hands, here's an infraction. I'd like to make a statement no, I'm calling you a tow truck and leaving. Huh? Is this how it is in the US? Tow driver drops me at Denny's, and advises me not to stay in any non chain motels. I call home as I'm sorta stuck, decide to spend the night. Alright, get a cab and a milkshake, go to (on the cabbies advice) a specific not-seedy motel where I basically shower then pass out. Now things get... creepy... In the middle of the night there's this frantic knocking at my door, just uninterrupted *wham wham wham wham wham wham wham wham wham wham* I shout as loud as I can "Who's there?" I don't get an answer, and this IS a seedy motel, so I don't answer. A moment later my curtains are opened, and a bright flashlight is shined on me and I start getting bombarded by questions. Once my eyes adjust it's a cop demanding I get up... I was too tired to get redressed after my shower so... I kinda don't want to come outside to answer questions "can I get dressed" "yes" "...can you look away or something, I'm naked" "no"... I pause for a moment "GET UP! GET UP!" the second cop says "Man, he's a white guy, it's not who we're looking for, let him go back to sleep. First cop sights and states "you should latch your window." Crawl out of bed once they're gone, close my window again, latch it again, go back to sleep. The next morning I wake up, still kinda weirded out... I've been robbed. My wallet's gone. My cell is gone. My papers are gone. Luckily I still have my laptop (which has no batteries left) my birth certificate, my bill of sale, my keys and about $21. Turns out the window CAN'T be latched. Twice I had thought I closed it shut tight, both times it turned out you could just open it from the outside with a little bit of fiddling. Chapter 4: In it for the long haul So, okay, now what? My in room phone doesn't work, and I can't reach the lobby, a guy comes around demanding $60 for a second night "I'm leaving, gimme a moment to pack". Go to the lobby, talk to the lobby lady, she's unwilling to check the tapes, and she's unwilling to help, she eventually ignores me and shuts her window. Fine. I call the cab company to see if maybe I left stuff in there? They're unhelpful, and she's unplugged the phone I'm using inside, and screaming at the $60 guy from before. Oh God Where Am I. What city am I in? What do I do? Call the consulate! Press 0 if you're a canadian citizen having an emergency. 0. Thank you for calling the consulate, please leave a message as to the nature of your emergency, and where we can reach you. We estimate the current wait for a return call to be at least 48 hours. ... Oh God Where Am I. What city am I in? What do I do? Call the cops and hunker down! Where are you? I don't know... uhhh this and that intersection. What happened? I was robbed. At knifepoint or gunpoint? No, while I was asleep... Look, I'm a Canadian and I have no money no papers, and no idea where I am, nobody will be able to get me for probably a day... and I have nowhere to stay or anything. Okay, we'll send someone over. So, an hour later officer Rob shows up. Lemme tell you about Rob. You may think he's a mean guy, he's a SWAT officer after all, but he's the first nice person I met during my time down there. AND a bad little asian dude. He hangs out with me for a while, trys to sort out how to get me home. He can get me pretty much anywhere with a few hops, if I don't mind trusting a few locals. Of course not, I like you officer Rob. Officer McGinnis shows up as well, she's some form of community outreach officer, so this falls in her jurisdiction. With a bit of chatting we decide that if I can get to the 240, I can just drive that home. He writes me a note saying something like "Let this guy go despite the lack of insurance, he literally CANNOT put any on it right now." Can't get me an escort, but can get me a get out of being pulled over free card. He says if I do get pulled over they're likely to escort me from there on. AWESOME. Officer McGinnis goes off to find me a few rides, and a way to get to my impounded BMW where the parts to boot up the 240z are. Rob gets a call while we're waiting for McGinnis to come back, and he deputizes me to guard the second vehicle. "Don't let anyone get in this, if they try... arrest them" AWESOME. The residents of Vagabond Inn (shoulda known) come over to ask why I've been talking to the officers so much, I tell them the story... they're kinda drunk and stoned (even though it's 11am) so they only sort of follow. One of them goes to lean on the second squadcar and I go "HEY! If you touch that car, I'll have to arrest you" they all go wide eyed and wander away. I'm actually having a decent time at this point. Look how much story I've racked up in a 26 hr period! I think "the guys on hybridZ'll love this." McGinnis comes back, and she found me a ride with a trucker. I like truckers, they're great to talk to. They're on the road even more than I am. Whenever I'm in trouble I look for a trucker, or a biker to help me out, and they always do. So, a nice long drive, a good chat about travelling and whatnot. I get a few tips of things to go see. He drops off his truck, we get in his well... normal size truck, and he brings me to the 240. A small adventure in itself. the location it was at was apparently at 312 st 199 Burien/Normandy Park Wa. So it existed in two cities at once at an intersection that didn't exist. We did sort it out thought HOUSE 312 on SOUTH 199 in Burien. But it was a headscratcher He doesn't just dump me either, he helps me check it over and breathe life into it (we switch a leaky hose). The engine sounds FANTASTIC it starts in under a crank, it runs great, revs great, and so on. A 5 speed was swapped in and the new trans was HUGE. I love it. I love the lines, I love the engine bay, I love the little weird flaps that open to reveal more stuff. I love the steering wheel. I love that the door handles are in entirely the wrong place. I don't care that there's no radio, and sloppy wiring, I'm planning to change all that anyway. I don't care that the clutch is a bit finicky, I'll learn it. I send my buddy Trucker Tim on his way, and with a big fat grin do the last little things, bit of gas, bit of cleaners, adjust the seat and set off. Gonna make it, finally. I'll be careful, drive slow, watch the gauges, be home in 5 hours. Stop off for treats often, I got $21, and a jerry can with a ton of extra fuel beyond the full tank that's in there. No problem at all. Chapter 5: Homeward bound wasn't really a great movie, but I liked it anyway. Vroom vrooom. Off I go, I pull out of the driveway, roll down a little hill, go to brake and... they don't work, you have to pump em up a good 4 times and then they're super pathetic NOOOOOOOOOO I CAN'T DRIVE THIS BACK it barely stops at low speeds. Okay, so what's wrong.... can't pop the hood ♥♥♥♥, fiddle, no go... okay shop time. Don't worry, it's 3:something pm on a friday, there will be shops. I park it. Jump out, and RUN to the nearest stripmall. Now, I'm not just a bumpkin student. I'm actually a national team athlete. I'm not gonna say which one, but I'm a Fencer. I run the 100m in about 10 seconds, and I CAN complete marathons. It's hot 40c/105f. It's too hot. Stretch, and GO. I run to the stripmall, no phone use allowed anywhere, and no payphones. Where's the nearest, a few blocks at the end of this street, it's called the QFC. Okay, I remember the QFC, we drove past it. I know where it is. GO! RUN! I run... and run... and run... and where is it? after an HOUR of running I get there. I run into a starbucks and make change for the payphones that are there "Sorry, can I make change, I'll be back in 5 minutes to buy something, I have to make a call real quick. The phone is broken. Next payphone... broken... last payphone "I'm sorry man, it's 4:30 we close at 5 we can't do it for you" "how about tomorrow?" "We're not open on saturday." The same everywhere... I can't find a shop. I'm done, I'm out of options, I can't afford a motel, I can't afford the bus. Gotta know when to fold em, I put up an EPIC fight I figure, so no shame MOOOOMMMMY I'm looost and poor and tiiiired and I don't have any money and I'm in burien and the car is broken and I don't have time to explain and someone come get me . Family is great. They'll come to the starbucks, and they'll be there in 3-4 hours. Okay. I go to the bucks, buy a big fat banana chocolate smoothie with 3 shots of espresso and settle in for a good long wait, tell my story. I decide I shouldn't leave my laptop and whatnot lying in my exposed 240, soooo I decide to do the run back, give me something to do I spose. Run run run run run run run run get my stuff walk walk walk jog jog jog jog run run run run feel ill and dizzy briefly walk walk walk. Back at the parking lot. Chapter 6: Serendipity is not always a good thing Gary? Is that you? GARY IT IS YOU! Now, Gary is a fencing coach, I haven't seen him in years, but him and my coach are very good friends from the good ole days in the USSR. Fencers are a tight knit bunch, I am officially safe. The nice gay Barista from the starbucks comes running out he was tho worried about me, and did I find everythan that I needed? I assure him I'm fine, he assures me that if I needed aything, anything at all I should call him and here's his number. I'm fine, and I head off with Gary. We decide maybe a bus home is the best plan (it wasn't). He drops me off, and presses a big wad of cash into my hands. So, Sea-Tac airport, and I figure I'll catch the 11 o'clock quick shuttle, I live RIGHT by its final stop. As I walk through the airport I get talked to by 3-4 charity groups "could you spare just $2 to buy supplies for one child to go to school? No I was robbed, I don't have $2 where's the bus? You were robbed? Ya, where's the bus, down that way, god bless. Turns out there is no 11 quick shuttle at the moment, ffffffffffffffff not actually pissed, I just chuckle and declare "ya, that's not surprising really. and I missed the 7 by about 4 minutes. Maybe the charity's weren't doing good? Well good god damn and other such phrases. Fine, greyhound, I bus to the terminal, and the nice russian driver upon hearing I haven't got real id, I was robbed, and a fencer and so on decideds I'm not paying the $13 fare (fencers are big celebs everywhere but North America, so I always tell foreigners I'm a national team fencer). You can't board the bus without proper ID. But I have my birth certificate. I'm sorry that doesn't count as it doesn't prove you live in Canada. Please please please call your manager... Same ole sob story, okay I get a ticket. 10:30 I'm going home. YES! Delayed, make that 11 Delayed, make that 12 Okay now we're moving, I'm sitting to a nice guy, we chat, split snackfoods and have a good trip. We both know everyone is listening to our insane stories (he just got finished biking to Seattle from California) he gets off in Bellingham and it's just a quick hop to the border. Ah, the border... I'm going to be back in Canada soon, maybe I'll even be able to import my car despite not being in it. I've got all my papers after all. No. Sorry, try again. See you later. Back on the bus, why aren't we leaving? Well... because we have two illegals with us. FANTASTIC. So, an hour of delay, I set about making friends with everyone who isn't asleep. We're having a good time, all we needed was a few drinks and we would've thrown a party. This story IS a long sequence of awful events but I was in a great mood. I figure I could either be in a good mood, or break down and freak out. Canada admits the illegals, cause we're nice. And we're on our way... just kidding the bus breaks down. Bus gets fixed, we're on our way. We arrive at the greyhound terminal, which is far from my house. I get a cab.. the sun comes up. I give him the last of my money, crawl into my house to find my dad making breakfast... see, the plan had been to set out early on this Saturday to get the impounded car and the 240. I mumble something, he tells me to go to bed. I grudgingly oblige (by which I mean I immediately go to sleep without even so much as brushing my teeth.) Conclusion: No it isn't. I'm out: $2150 us 1 BMW 325ix 3 days I'm up an undriveable 240z way far away from where I live. Consequences? I don't have time to finish it, and won't be able to take it on my trip most likely. I can't afford my plane ticket to school. I can't afford my fees for school. Today I try to call some shops down there, to see if they'll tow the car and fix it. They're not open until Monday. I have to leave on Wednesday if I drive... My tools are here, my parts are here, my space is here, my painting stuff is here. So my attempt to get myself a perfectly restored 240z has left me totally screwed.

Budget update, in case the attachment isn't legible. Car 1900 (1800 + 100 to get the ujoint fixed) Interior 1000 (1040 for carpets, panels, and seats, dang 40 over) Paint 300 (Primer 70, paint 70, clear 70, misc 90) Wheels 800 (haven't nailed down a deal yet) Audio 1000 (200 sound damp, 100 enclosure, 700 deck woof tweets amp) Import fee 200 (oh canada) (not on scanned worksheet) Alternator 200 $5400 for a tricked out 240z? Goodies (if budget allows) Fridge 100 GPS 200 Inverter 60 Light up door sills ?? Imagines are out as they're too expensive, there's a mockup of my custom enclosure, and a few small *remember this*'s for myself.

The goal is pretty simple. Take a pretty shotty sub $2k 240z and turn it into a modern head turning super GT on the cheap in 11 days. How? Well... that's a bit of a headscratcher. Here's what I devised, and am going to do. Work like a madman (obviously) but also... Take 1 Datsun 240z in poor aesthetic condition, but excellent mechanical for cheap. Give it 1 fancy paintjob DIY style (to save scratch) Put 4 swanky rims and 4 tires on (Hoping to source some Konig Imagines if I can fit them into the $800 wheel budget) Rip out 1 old interior, throw in 1 new one. Put in 1 nice (but still, hopefully, cheap) soundsytem if need be 1 alt, and if I have the juice leftover 1 small fridge (because how cool would that be) THE PICS - in the pics green circles are the good, red circles are the bad. --DATSUN So where am I now? I've got my Datsun (see attached). I paid $1800 for it. It needs 1 u-joint. THE GOOD -Decent rims, good tires. Perhaps someone on here will be willing to take them off my hands when I get hold of some proper Konigs -Bumpers are mint. THE BAD -Surface rust might mean I'm gonna find some hidden gremlins -The interior is ruuuuined. Needs almost EVERYTHING --THE SPACE Oh geez, project 1 is clean up the god damn garage... I could technically fit 2 240z's side by side, or 3 if parked them parallel to the garage door. Can you imagine trying to pull off that parallel park? THE GOOD -That's two bottles of Gatorade, and about 40 bottles of alcohol. -Every tool known to man except the ones I'll need. THE BAD -what IS all this stuff? boxes full of smaller boxes full of random junk? FOUR bicycles? Only 3 people live in this house... --THE SECRET WEAPON My big compressor, and my little hvlp THE GOOD -I have a big compressor, and an hvlp THE BAD -I kind of don't know how to use it, and my last paintjob I botched pretty bad. THE FIRST DECISION Which color? On the left we have the traditional tired and vaguely drab original datsun orange On the right we have an updated, more exciting Hemi Orange (as per the general lee) to be honest, I like the hemi orange a LOT better, I find the original Datsun orange a bit of a tired color, but perhaps that's just my opinion, and it'll be overturned.

Humans have to fit in them to count as seats. It has four seatbelts, I'll admit that

Hate still being a hijacker but... no it isn't. They make a 4 seat version, but the Porsche 911 does not have four seats. The 911 4, 911 4s, etc. do. That said, that color looks excellent under that light, and not so nice under normal light. Which is too bad, because for a moment I had though I found my new z color. Hemi Orange still seems to be winning for me.