Old Spider Tour (first 25%, anyway)

[Scott Fisher <sfisher71@domain.elided>]

I had, by turns, the best and the worst day I've spent
touring with a car club yesterday.  Best because of
the people, the scenery, and the other cars; worst
because, well, I made it back safely but the Berlina
is excused duty till I can resolve a few critical
issues in the underpinnings.  (Why not take the
Spider?  I didn't trust the old tires I've still got
on those cool rims; one won't hold air for 24 hours,
the others are nearly as cracked and deteriorated. 
They'll do for a drive to the tire store, and that's
about it.  And besides, my native contrariness -- I
used to lead the annual All-British Car Day tour in
the Spider, remember -- suggested that it would be
amusing to run the Old Spider Tour in my new Berlina.)

I arrived in the parking lot to find a vast sea of
mostly red cars, mostly Spiders of pretty much every
vintage.  There was an iron-block 2000, a selection of
Giuliettas and Giulias, possibly half a dozen
roundtails, and dozens of series 2, 3 and 4 Spiders. 
A handful of GTVs and GTV6s, small selection of
Milanos, one 164, and my Berlina filled the roofed-car
complement.  (Oh, and at least one driver brought a
car about which I jokingly said, "His Alfa logo has
too many Rs in it."  Well, it DID have the badge of
the prewar racing Alfas -- yellow with a black horse.)

Oregon, in my experience here, thoroughly deserves its
reputation for drizzle, rain, and unrelenting grey
skies.  Last week's AROO rally, for example, showed
exactly those conditions.  But when the rains stop, it
makes up for all the dreary hours with a special kind
of intensity that is somehow more poignant than the
sunny California skies of my youth.

Yesterday, for example, was cloudless, with brilliant
blue sky and liquid golden sunlight streaming through
the branches of the maples and firs as we left
Clackamas and headed east into the Cascades.  I
brought the instructions home with me, which is a good
thing, as I have next to NO idea where we went, except
that Mt. Hood kept getting closer and closer each time
we'd break out of the trees in a valley with the right
orientation.  

The roads were clearly among the best sports-car roads
I've ever encountered -- loops and humps, switchbacks
and what my little son calls "waterfalls," where the
road drops away faster than the car does as you crest
the hump.  It was the day, the scenery, and the roads
for which open cars were made.  And mine was home with
bad tires.  Score one point against contrariness.

On the straighter transit sections between mountainous
regions, I took some solace from the comfort and
relative silence of the Berlina with the windows
rolled up.  It was still a chilly morning, and I'd
worn shorts in preparation for what I (correctly, as
it turned out) guessed would be a hot afternoon on the
"dry side," as the expanses of eastern Oregon are
called.  I love the little ankle-vents in the Berlina:
there are a pair of round vents just ankle height, one
in each footwell, with a foot-operated lever that lets
you duct fresh air into the passenger's compartment. 
Nice.

Unfortunately, as the day progressed, the next two
jobs I need to perform on the Berlina became more and
more obvious: brakes and suspension.  The suspension
is comfortable on the freeway and feels reasonably
good in second gear cornering, partly because the
speeds are low and partly because the car winds up
under the greater torque available in the lower gears,
and this keeps the rear end planted.

In fourth- and fifth-gear corners, however, it verges
on the terrifying.  

And there were a LOT of fourth- and fifth-gear corners
on the tour -- and I don't mean puttering along in
fourth, I mean hit-the-redline in fourth.  After we
left the parking lot on the slopes of Mt. Hood, the
road opened up and we headed down the eastern face of
the Cascades.  Fast, open corners were the order of
the day, the kind of corner I love to take in the
Spider, with its good bushings and Bilsteins.  I've
raved before about what a thrill it is to take the
Spider into a fast sweeping corner at 4500-5000 RPM in
fifth gear and simply steer gently; the car just
tracks without drama or surprise, even without the
appearance of body roll or suspension motion:
everything is in perfect balance and harmony.

With worn shocks and no doubt seriously perished
bushings, the poor Berlina rolled like a small boat in
a high sea, pitching and bobbling to a degree I
haven't experienced since the last time I rented a
Ford Escort.  Slow for the corner and the rear started
to trace the pattern of the "chaos butterfly" in the
air; accelerating out of it helped some as the rear
end squatted down and the weight transfer overpowered
the poor decrepit dampers, but the transition from
understeer to oversteer as the rear trailing arms
steered the axle was, well, attention-getting.

A shame, too, because the engine was marvelous, smooth
and powerful, as was the transmission.  The drivetrain
in this car is possibly better than that in the Spider
-- certainly the gearbox is.  

And then there are the brakes.  They were a
questionable area when I bought the car, which is why
the first work I did to the car was to flush and bleed
the fluid; I used to say that they worked well enough
but didn't feel as firm as I'd like.  During the 390
miles I put on the car yesterday, the infirm feeling
grew progressively worse -- pedal travel went up,
stopping distances became higher, and my overall sense
of impending disaster sucked all the fun out of what
should have been a day of automotive joy.

Driving home through my neighborhood at 20-25 mph, the
required stopping distances had climbed to a point
where I don't think I'll be driving the Berlina again
(except to put it into the garage) until I can put all
new rubber parts in the braking system, as well as a
new master cylinder.  After that it'll be safe to
drive on surface streets and freeways -- but I won't
do another mountain road tour in that car (or drive it
to California) till it's got Bilsteins, new bushings,
and quite possibly stiffer front and rear anti-roll
bars.  (It's not clear yet whether the alarming body
roll is simply because the shocks do nothing to damp
it on corner entry; I'll wait in the anti-roll bars
till I've done the rest, but I'm open to
recommendations from others who have more experience
in Berlinas than I have -- an easy qualification to
exceed, as I've had possession of this one for 47
days.)

My participation in the Old Spider Tour was always
scheduled to end after lunch -- I have three children
to manage for today's Mother's Day extravaganza (two
of which are still asleep), but the Old Spider Tour is
a two-day affair, with the bulk of the participants
staying in the charming old town of Condon, Oregon. 
Given the deterioration of the Berlina's braking feel
on the ride home, it's just as well.  Next year I hope
to do both days -- but even if it's only the first day
I'll make it in the Spider, top down all the way, and
with good tires.  

--Scott Fisher
  Tualatin, Oregon
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