Energy Consumption

One interesting thing about the Volkswagen is how it can display the top three energy consumers in the car.  As I played with internal settings, I found some surprises.

In this first shot, I have the driver's seat set to maximum heat, the wing mirror defrosters on, and the heat set at 72 degrees.  It was a balmy 15 degrees fahrenheit, and the coolant and oil were at operating temperatures.

What surprised me was what happened when I fired up the rear defroster.  It consumed more energy than the seat heater - I didn't expect that.  In my small sample size straw polls, most folks think that a seat heater would consume more electricity than the rear defroster.

Predictably, when I maxed out the passenger's seat heater, it dropped the wing mirror power consumption out of the top three.

Turning of the passenger's seat heater and dialing the driver's seat back to the middle of its three settings brings its energy consumption down to parity with the wing mirrors,

while using the lowest of the three settings on the driver's seat consume even less power than the wing mirrors.

Again, it's just a neat detail that car people might appreciate and find interesting.  I suppose this would be another thing to add to the "delighters" section of this post.

Taking Care of Business

I noticed that the grey van had a bit of a rust bubble on the driver's rear quarter panel, near the top of the wheel arch.  With the rust spot in a relatively inconspicuous place, and the van at the ripe old age of 12, I decided to take on the repair myself.

Let it be known that I have zero experience with bodywork.  That said, I do have a Dremel and willingness to experiment, so I decided to go for it.

The first step was to get rid of that cancerous rust.  I put on some safety glasses, selected a cutting tool, and went after it.  From the side, I didn't have to grind away too much of the paint and rust:

However, as you can see in the next picture, I did slip and ground away some perfectly good paint.  Not my intent, and I certainly muttered under my breath when that happened.

If you lie on the ground and look up at the fender, you can see where the metal folded in and where the real problem was:

I popped out to AutoZone to pick up some supplies, including grey metal primer, masking tape, a small can of Bondo, and some very fined finishing sandpaper: 

When I got home, I took a closer look at the fender, and saw more rust lurking:

Back to work with the Dremel, I cut away more and more rusty metal:

Looking around, I still wasn't satisfied that I had eliminated all of the rust, so I ended up with a pretty decent-sized hole that I cut away:

With all of the surface prep done, I plied my Bondo skills for the first time.  Again, since this was in a hard-to-see place, I wasn't concerned with perfection - I just wanted to eliminate any rust spread.  My first attempt was kind of lumpy:

I worked it a bit more, smoothed out the Bondo, and taped off the area for priming.  I also covered the wheel and tire to catch any overspray:

I have past experience with spray paint, so I slowly and methodically added layer after layer:

Hot halogen work lights helped accelerate the drying process:

My end result certainly isn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination.  I could have spent much more time wet sanding to get closer to a nice, even finish.

However, my goal was "good enough," so I applied a top coat using the touch-up paint I keep for rock chips and called it a day:

A bit later on, I noticed a bit of rust starting behind the fuel filler door.  I think this is a design flaw on Honda's part, as there is no drain hole.  When it rains and you pop the filler door open, you can see where the water accumulates.

Once again, I decided to get out in front of the rust before it became a problem.  I attached the rust spot vigorously:

Once again, my repair was crude but functional.  The van still looks good from 20 feet away or so.

Another thing I've noticed is that as the van has aged, the headlights have become somewhat foggy and cloudy in appearance:

I got pretty aggressive with a polishing compound, and I was pretty pleased at the result.  Again, not perfect, but much of the cloudiness had been polished away.

If you take care of your equipment, odds are it will take care of you.  This is one of the reasons I enjoy hand-waxing and hand-washing the vehicles.  It gives me a chance to really scrutinize the body and see if there are any potential issues out there, lurking below the surface.  Rock chips on the nose?  Just take care of them.  Take an extra-long look after winter or a long road trip, particularly around where the hood meets the front fascia, as stone chips there are harder to see.

With over 177,000 miles now, the grey van is halfway to 300,000.  With a bit of care and attention, I'm doing my part to ensure it gets there.

Not Snake Oil

Over the past couple of years, ceramic coating has made a splash as a way to protect the finish on vehicles.  This year, I thought I would give it try.  It was a pretty time consuming process, and I spent plenty of time working on all of the cars.  Late into the night, I cranked up some music and methodically spent time in the garage, prepping and applying.

I have to say, the results were visually impressive.  I did the paint, the glass, the wheels, even the exhaust tips:

Of course, in my semi-obsessive way, I also did all of the door jambs:

You can tell how that it's certainly effective from a reflectivity standpoint, check out the reflection of the door latch in this picture:

Overall, it helps the car really look good:

However it's easy to look good on a sunny summer day.  My real question was, how would it hold up over time?  Ceramic coatings purport to last longer than traditional waxes.  I was skeptical, as only time will tell.

Eight months after application, here we are in the middle of winter.  It's been an odd January, sloppy and wet, with a bit of snow.  Currently, it's 30 degrees with gentle flakes floating down.  That said, it's warm enough that it's just accumulating as water on a parked vehicle.

I was out and about, and shot this video.  The engine was pretty cold, so this is moderate acceleration in second and a shift into third:

I have to say, I'm super impressed.  The water simply flies off the windshield and hood.  I haven't washed the car for a while, I've just have been driving it around.  Even more amazing, at least to me, is here's a photo from after that drive, after the car sat in the garage for an hour or so:

The front of the car looks essentially like it was freshly washed, which just blows me away.

Things are a little different in the rear, where spray gets kicked up on the back of the car:

I have to say, of all the car care products I've tried over the years, this ceramic coating provides the longest-lasting protection, by far.  I'll be most interested to see how long it continues to be this effective.

Oil Temperature

I've settle in on my new favorite dash display in the GLI.  I had be going with a trip computer summary in between the gauges, like so:

However, the GLI gives a nice trip summary after shutting the engine:

So, that had me thinking, what do I really want to know?  Well, ultimately, I want to know how soon I can really get on it and rev it out.  There's the typical coolant bar on the left side of the display, but that doesn't tell the full story.  What I really want to know is oil temperature.  Fortunately, that's configurable:

Ah, much better!  When starting off, the display shows three dashes when the temperature is too low.  It starts showing values around 123 degrees, with operating temperatures ranging between 190 and 205.

I like having the oil temperature as the default, though I can imagine switching displays on a longer trip.

Thanks, Volkswagen, for enabling driver choice, and for including oil temperature as an option.

As the odometer spins

There is something deeply satisfying about putting a lot of miles on a vehicle.  There is just no substitute for the depth of relationship that comes with putting on miles.

The high mileage champion in the garage is currently our 2008 Honda Odyssey.

We got it as we were transitioning from two to three children.  As an aside, if you have more than two children and don't tow regularly, just get a minivan.  They are just wonderful vehicles.

It’s been a workhorse for us over the ensuing years, taking us to Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Washington, D.C., Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island (twice!).

Its trundled around town, grinding out urban miles, ferrying children to school and activities, and when equipped with winter tires, plowed confidently through many a Midwest winter.  

Its kept us all warm, even when it got quite cold outside:

It’s spent hours north of 80, criss-crossing the eastern half of the United States.

Without doubt, my favorite thing about it is its innate ability to haul things.  When preparing for a road trip, when someone asks if they can bring something, the answer is invariably yes.  We’ve driven I-90 across New York with the kids practicing piano on an electric keyboard in the back seat.  Need to bring a tuba to Rhode Island?  No problem, stuff it in the back.  The under-floor storage is profoundly useful for items that don’t need to be accessed during a trip, to the point that I’m a bit sad that Honda moved the spare tire to that location in our 2019 Odyssey.

Of course, the roof rails are nice for tying on Christmas trees:

On the inside, it swallowed one of my all-time favorite school projects, a life-sized sand tiger shark:

It’s about as entertaining to drive as a refrigerator.  It is big, has lots of body roll, is softly sprung, and has tall sidewalls (235/65-16).  All of this makes sense to me - it’s built for comfort and cargo, not speed.  The 240 horsepower from the V6 provides sufficient power.  Climbing through some of the mountainous terrain in New Hampshire or some of the long grades on I-80 and I-76 through Pennsylvania, I’ve never had it lose speed on a hill, even loaded up with 6 people, a dog, and cargo.  

I love the fact it has a big fuel tank, as we can knock out 450 miles before stopping for gas.

At toll booths, I frequently move quickly through the range of throttle travel, and the engine winds out to 6,000 rpm before proceeding to the next gear.  I actually enjoy the sound of the V6 as it crescendos through 4,000 rpm on the way to the redline.  Again, it’s not fast by any stretch, but it has sufficient power for its mission.  If you want a fast van, the 280 hp in our 2019 Odyssey can certainly surprise folks...

It has hauled all kinds of things, from couches to tubas, with ease.  Just fold the back seats down and pull the middle row out if needed.  Here it is, swallowing a couch:

So spacious is the cargo area that even with a couch in the back, I could close the tailgate:

I’ve put over 1,000 pounds of brick and stone in the back:

although the suspension was majorly compressed, the van didn’t complain.

It did look kind of cool when it as all loaded:

It even does a reasonable impression of a camper.  With the second row removed, the rear seats folded down, and a thick sleeping pad, it makes for a comfortable, spacious place to spend the night.  Though likely not by design, the third row cup holders and storage bins make for great nightstands. 

The odometer in the van isn’t always visible.  Toggling through the settings, you have the option to display the odometer and trip meter A, the external air temperature and trip meter A or trip meter B, and the oil life remaining.  I found that early on, I would set the display to I could see the external temperature.  Nowadays, I leave it set to the odometer.  It’s reading north of 176,000 miles as this is written.  While certainly not a world record, I find that glancing down gives me lots of joy and makes me smile.  I look down, and am reminded of my wife driving her first new car off of the dealer lot.  The time we departed South Bend when we only had three kids, and made our first stop in New York, not because people needed to use the bathroom, but because our gas light was burning brightly.  I remember the trip to D.C. where we were going to tell the kids about the impending arrival of their little brother.  Crossing Confederation Bridge for the first time as we made our way to Prince Edward Island.

The countless trips to Rhode Island.  

Climbing the one of the longer grades on I-80 in eastern Ohio in late December, the driver’s window cold against the frigid temperatures.  Using it as a mini-camper during a bitterly cold, rainy day at the soccer field.  Singing at top volume with the entire family on many a road trip.  Teaching my kids how to parallel park.  Hauling equipment to various Boy Scouts camp outs.  Filling the van with kids to go see a movie.  Countless trips to the dunes, where the van would gain five to ten pounds of sand with every visit.

Of course, as will all long-standing relationships, it’s not all roses and rainbows.  The starter died in Rhode Island when I was home, stranding my wife, kids, and in-laws at the beach.  I was jogging and had to order two separate Ubers to get everyone home safely.  Technology is pretty amazing.  Then, a week later, my wife had the van packed, loaded with snacks, and ready for the journey back to Indiana when the replacement starter failed!  There is a word deeper than disappointment to describe how my wife felt at the time.  On a different year, I was home and the rest of the family was coming back from Rhode Island when the alternator started failing in eastern Pennsylvania.  Fortunately, my wife was able to get the kids and her mother settled into a hotel, then limp it to a dealership in a neighboring town.  They were able to get a new alternator in place and get them back on the road the next morning.  Relatively early on, my wife was reversing out of a parking spot as the same time an old, rusty pickup was doing the same thing.  Contact!  The result was a scraped up bumper and cracked tail lens.  While I was able to replace the lens, the tailgate struts gave up the ghost and were replaced under warranty.

Most vividly, I remember the time I thought it was going to fail for the final time.  Just over 166,000 miles  on the clock, on a trip to see the state marching band finals in Indianapolis, it gave a death shudder and lit up the oil-related warning lights on the dash.  We hobbled into a gas station, where it proceeded to consume three quarts of oil before the dipstick registered a drop.  I thought it was over, but a new front spool valve from the wonderful folks at Valley Honda gave it new life.

Relatively recently, it gave me the opportunity to try my hand at rust repair.  Armed with a Dremel, bondo, Rustoleum, and factory paint, I repaired a bit of rust on the tail gate and the rust bubble on the driver’s rear quarter panel, just below the fuel filler door.  I think the latter is due to a design flaw.  A simple drain hole would allow accumulated moisture to vacate the area.  Either way, I determined that my bodywork skills are far from perfect, but they are good enough that the van looks passable from 20 feet away.  When something is old, well, that’s when you take care of it lest the problems get worse.

These days, it is primarily a cargo beast.  The rear seats are mostly folded down, making it easy to haul cargo.  It continues to be our beach van, driving up to the dunes with minimal worry about how much sand it will accumulate on the visit.  It makes the occasional trip to horse shows, my oldest drives it to work, and I’m teaching my oldest daughter how to drive an automatic.  When I drive it, I look down at the odometer and smile at the positive memories that keep flooding back.

The 911 elicits similar feelings of joy.  Driving around, I remember trips to the east coast, the joys of the Kettle Moraine in Wisconsin, track days, and time/speed/distance rallyes.  I remember how nervous I was the first time I drove it back to my apartment in Chicago on delivery day.  In the more than two decades of ownership, I’ve developed such a natural relationship with the car.  I know it intimately, the way it shifts, the way it brakes, the way it accelerates, the way it handles.  When there is an average speed to be maintained in a TSD rallye, I can nail that speed in the old car.  I remember driving a 996 in a TSD, and it was so much faster, responded so differently, that I had a difficult time adjusting and maintaining the correct average speed.  While I’m no longer nervous when I am in it, the joy and familiarity of operating it makes me happy every single time.

This was taken after a bath more than 15 years ago:

Just like the van, a long-term relationship requires work, care, and feeding.  After a couple of decades, the original headlights looked awful:

I ordered replacement lenses, which positively sparkle in comparison:

I took it out, and wasn't surprised that the recessed mounting area in the fender was filthy:

So, of course, I cleaned it up and waxed it:

Then, I popped in the new lens:

Ah, much better - looking bright-eyed and ready for action:

My brother took this in the fall:

It still turns my head, still makes me leave the door open when I start it, still makes me smile when I think of stuffing my entire family in the car to roll 100,000 miles:

So many good memories.  Driving it to D.C., carving through the byroads of West Virginia.  Sleeping in it on the way back from Milwaukee, when I was simply too tired to go on.  Stuffing two of my kids in it to go to Physics Day at 6 Flags.  Putting three of the kids in there and rolling through various school drop-off lines, amidst a sea of SUVs.  Break out drives in the winter.  Getting caught in the snow and having an traction control clinic, reveling in the feedback coming through the steering wheel.  It getting caught in a surprise snow in my driveway:

I really enjoy all aspects of long-standing relationships, the good and the bad.  Be it an Odyssey or a 911, I'm still crazy, after all these years.