When Wally the Sprinter Van is launching up mountain passes like some sort of mobile dirtbag home turned rocket ship, I'll never complain. The turbo spools up, and the pavement under the tires turns to tar. I've been out to Rifle a bunch lately, and that feeling of watching Vail Pass morph into a mere speed bump is especially nice when I compare it to the slow churn of my snail paced Subaru.
Recently, I was driving Wally when I realized that my foot was on the floor, and the speedometer still read a paltry 62 MPH. WTF? Sprint, Sprinter! No dice. I called the mechanic, and braced myself for some potential bad news.
The call came back from my trusty folks at Mancinelli's. The turbo had essentially developed a faulty On/Off switch, and that there was no way to fix it other than to replace the entire turbo. The part itself was a blinding $1,700. Even worse, Mancinelli's told me that it was totally unavailable because of backordering. Ouch.
I immediately called around to try to find an alternative to the declaration that my space ship had been turned into the tortoise. I also batted around the idea that there had been some catastrophic misdiagnosis. The internet is full of rumor and innuendo, and several posts on SprinterSourceDotCom told me that a muffler in the system, known as the Resonator, was suspect and had a tendency to die. Perhaps that was the problem? It would only cost $200 or so to fix, so I crossed my fingers and called the mechanic back. Were they sure that it wasn't the resonator? "100% positive." Damn.
After a bunch of phone calls and web searches, I managed to find a new, replacement turbo down in Texas, and had it shipped to my mechanic. They installed the new part, and at the same time, replaced that questionable Resonator, just in case.
Now, I'm back to flying up the mountain passes, perhaps even quicker given the lighter wallet I've been carrying around. The speed increase came just in time, because I've got trips up to Jackson Hole and, later this fall, Yosemite. After getting spoiled by the relative luxury of climbing trips based from the comfort of Wally, I couldn't bear the thought of a regression to Subaru road trips. That's inflation, in a nutshell. My expectations grew, and left me without even a moment of doubt about fixing the problem. Anything to get me back in the van.
In between those trips to Wyoming and California, I'm headed up to Index and Squamish to team up with Josh and Jesse for some training camp preparation that will take the form of incredible cragging at some of the best locations in the world. Lucky me. Classes at that renowned Finkelstein School of Granite have been in recess for a while now, but I've been trying to stay fit and focused with a steady diet of big days in Rifle. Lapping the same sport routes I've got dialed isn't the same as onsighting the unfamiliar granite trad line, but it's better than sitting on the couch. I'm hoping that the Index/Squamish days get me fully prepared for that return to the Valley.
At least I know I'll be riding in style when I get there.
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