Post Your Vanity Plates

[BLUNT]

not a vanity plate but rather a fake euro plate and where i keep the tach

[eurotrash]

NIIICE STEVE.

Here's my latest brain storm while tinkering with a word monkey. I think I like it ALOT better, but maybe its been done...?

[ClayW]

Maybe he has the plate on his BMW 3502.

Bob Napier

Well...that might explain it.

[jgerry2002]

For long time BMWCCA'rs this does not need an explanation...

[BradInPA]

Is that Yale's old car. I remember seeing it at one of the very first '02 fests in CT.

[jgerock]

For long time BMWCCA'rs this does not need an explanation...

Justin - I remember reading about the resurrection of Yale's car in the Roundel. Nice story!

Re: What year is that? My rear VW plate surround clearly says: "1971 Volkswagen", but I still get asked the same question.

[scratchbuilder1-48]

here is the 1970, Bernie

[MrNvgtr]

I did not pick this plate. It was given to my car by a higher power.

[bmcallister]

A little OT, I know, but the plate I had on my 1985 911 Carrera...

[bobthomas]

MMMDII = M 2502. When I applied for them at DMV the clerk said "Oh, Doctor the second. Cool" I didn't try to explain.

[Joser]

Say's it all.....

[gregp553]

I love this thread. Mostly because on any other thread guys cover their plate number. Never quite understood the danger of showing the plate. My plate was a bargain ebay purchase for $5 that I translate to No Stock Remaining 002. (NSR002)

[williamggruff]

I got this plate in the mail this week and have yet to attach it to my 76 Verona.

Long story:

Since I was very young I've wanted to be a BMW 2002. My grandparents had a die-cast model of a red BMW (probably a 1600, but that's nitpickin) and I used to play with it whenever I visited their house. My parents would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I would reply, "the red car at Granny and Grandpa's house! It's the coolest car in the world!" I wasn't aware of any limitations that precluded me from pursuing a career as an inanimate object, so becoming the object of my desire seemed quite reasonable.

Anyway, when I was about 8 years old my great uncle (a wealthy Monsignor in the Catholic Church [another long story]) showed up in a grün BMW 2002. (He also owned a gull wing Mercedes, but that, too, is another long story.) I decided that he was waaaay cooler than my parents (they didn't own a BMW 2002) and I wanted to be just like my great uncle, except for the part about being a church dude.

Later, when I was about 10, a new uncle (he married my aunt) showed up in a grün BMW 2002. He let me drive it. I was in heaven for a few moments. Then despair set in when he mentioned that he planned to drive it home rather than leaving it with me for safe keeping. By age 10 I had enough empirical data to convince me that my family wasn't the coolest family in the world, so it was possible that I, too, though not particularly cool, could own one of the coolest cars ever made.

Thirty years passed.

I've been playing capoeira (Brazilian cultural art/martial art/dance/game/music thingy--looks like breakdance fighting to the uninitiated) for the past 5 years. If one has any joint damage, capoeira will make it worse. My rotator cuff was a vintage part that had experienced many years of exciting adventures. After playing in pain for the past 2 years, I decided to have surgery to repair the rotator cuff last October. Unfortunately, I re-tore it 5 months later (it hadn't quite healed yet.) I knew that I'd have the surgery again, and I figured I'd better come up with a hobby to keep me away from capoeira long enough for the tendon to fully heal.

So I bought a 74ish BMW 2002 (it has a 71 VIN, but it has the rear-end of a squarie, a replaced front clip, and a slew of Tii parts, including an electronic fuel pump) and picked it up 2 days before my second surgery. It was a rat rod in need of serious attention, and my plan was to track rat it. I figured it would keep me busy for the summer while my tendon healed. After spending 3 months working on it every day, I concluded that the car had some substantial drawbacks, and that I would be best served if I bought one in better shape and transplanted some of the nice upgrades on the rat rod to a nice stock version. I found just such a car for sale in Dallas (I live in Virginia.)

Things were going so well on the drive from Dallas to Arlington. The weather was hot (above 100 F) and sunny. Traffic was light for a weekend.

The car was (and still is) beautiful. It has a working air conditioner, an uncracked dash, and the engine compartment is spotless. It looks like it just came off the showroom floor. The car was previously restored and had been in storage for several years.

If you like happy stories, stop reading now and go back to your regularly scheduled program. Because the rest of the story is about as disappointing, frustrating, infuriating and downright ugly as it can get in digital form here in this forum.

If you're still reading you can't say I didn't warn you.

Though you've likely traveled extensively in the US, please allow me to remind you that the temperatures in the southern states can be pretty brutal during the summer months, and on the highway it was probably about 115F. I had removed all the radiator hoses from my 74 and brought them with me, and had picked up a couple gallons of coolant for the ride, as well as some oil and water. I also brought along a box of fuses, belts, tools, an alternator, fuel filter, thermostat and hose clamps. Basically a good kit in case anything went wrong during the drive home.

The problem was that I only had the weekend to get the car back to DC, so I planned to drive straight through. I wanted to take it relatively easy, but some friends from out of town had arrived Friday night and I was hoping to get back to DC to see them before they left. This was sheer baffoonery on my part, but this is just the tip of the iceberg--there's a whole lot more where that came from.

You can still skip this post and forget you ever started reading it. Consider your time sunk cost.

Anyway, the car drove like a champ. It had good power and the handling was excellent. Note the use of the past tense. If you've ever read Jack London's "To Build a Fire", the story of a guy trekking across the Klondike in the dead middle of winter with his dog during the goldrush days, you're familiar with the use of foreshadowing. My use of this literary device isn't so subtle or refined. I'm telling you outright that shi7 is gonna be farked up before this story ends, so prepare yourself. Seriously. Grab a beer. Find a comfortable chair away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. You might find yourself in need of a place to lie down in a hurry.

My journey took me east across Texas, northeast toward Arkansas, through Tennessee, and into my home state of Virginia. It was in Virginia that the first signs of trouble appeared, or more accurately, voiced its presence to those who were listening and knew the sounds of impending doom. Yours truly was was not among those attentive audiophiles. No, the author and narrator of this dreadful tale was too busy scheming about arriving home in a shiny red car, getting a few hours of sleep, and taking his lovely wife for a cruise on a brilliant, but sweltering Sunday afternoon.

And so it began. I pulled off to the shoulder of the highway just south of Bristol, Virginia to relieve myself. It was about 4 AM and I had been driving for about 16 hours. The temperature had finally dropped below 100F, I noticed the car seemed to be carrying quite a bit of extra momentum for a one-ton vehicle with the clutch depressed to the floor. It was then that I realized the throw out bearing was just about seized. I was able to double clutch and rev match my way into 4th gear and continue the journey, knowing that I needed at least one more fuel stop to get home.

I finally pulled over for fuel. The car was running on fumes and I really had to take a break. By this time, the only way to stop the car was to yank it into neutral. The clutch was no longer operational.

I filled up the car, checked the fluids, and headed for the highway. I started the car in first gear and nursed it to the on-ramp. The on-ramp was dead level at first, then climbed a gradual hill. It was the best I could do on Route 81 North. I had attended 5 1/2 wonderful years at Virginia Tech, and had driven Route 81 North more times than I cared to remember, so I knew that the stop I chose was as good as it was going to get.

I pulled the car over and turned it off. I put the car in 4th gear and got out. I waited until a few cars passed me, then, hearing no cars coming toward the on-ramp, grabbed the steering wheel with my left hand and the key with my right and started pushing the car while the starter tried to get the car rolling in 4th gear.

It was then that I remembered that I was wearing flip-flops and jeans, and that I was about to trip over the flip-flops, fall under the wheels, and get run over by my own car. So I let go of the key and abruptly ran into the driver's side door as the car came to a halt.

I threw the flip-flops into the passenger seat footwell, cursed everyone and everything, including myself, and tried again with bare feet. Fortunately, I generally play capoeira barefoot, so my feet are pretty well calloused. Anyway, I got the car started, jumped in, and nursed it to a full roar and kept driving. My shoulder was none too pleased with the situation.

For the remainder of the trip I focused on developing a plan to arrive at my home inside the Beltway. At my current rate of travel, I was scheduled to arrive home around 11:30 AM. It was a glorious Sunday, and DC traffic is usually pretty horrendous on all major thoroughfares entering and exiting the area. I needed to give myself lots of room between my car and the car in front of me in the likely event that I encountered slow or stopped traffic. That way, I could decelerate without stalling the car in 4th. I couldn't realistically push-start the car on the side of the highway anywhere around DC due to the high probability that I'd get killed, or worse yet, someone would run into my shiny new car.

I also needed to be in either the left- or rightmost lane to avoid having the car stall on the highway. This proved quite challenging, as there are numerous spots along Route 66 East where construction barriers have been put in place, eliminating the shoulder on one or both sides of the road.

Anyway, I decided to take 495 South (counter clockwise around the Beltway) to 395 North, which would leave me with only one stoplight between the highway and my house. I figured I could easily get the car going in 2nd gear if I had to stop at the light, and it was less than a mile of suburbia to my place, so I could stay in 2nd gear for the remainder of the trip if necessary.

It wasn't necessary. I never made it to the light. The motor, which had been pulling like the little engine that could, gave out with a sickening rat-tat-tat-tat-tat 5 miles from home. PRECISELY AT THE EXIT WHERE I TRAIN CAPOEIRA.

I was driving it relatively slowly (about 65 MPH), and turned it off within a second or two of hearing the sound. A valve had clearly broken and fallen into the cylinder, causing a catastrophic failure. I gestured wildly to the drivers around me as I steered the powerless car to the side of the road and called AAA. As the car was winched onto the wrecker I watched hopelessly as oil streamed to the ground.

Despite having had no sleep for the past 40+ hours, I climbed under the car and took the oil pan off shortly after the wrecker dropped me off at home. There were telltale slivers of metal in the pan, so I knew I would have to swap engines before I could get the shiny red car running again.

I'm doing the swap in my driveway over the next two weekends.

Lessons learned:

1. A vintage car that has been in storage shouldn't be driven on a lengthy trip immediately.

2. A vintage car that has a history of poor oil distribution to cylinder 4 should NOT be driven in summer heat for 1300+ miles non-stop.

3. A 1976 BMW 2002 with a stock 4-speed transmission that has been in storage for several years will likely succumb to valve float and die a horrible, senseless death if driven at 70+ MPH for 20+ hours in summer heat.

4. I am a terrible person who has maimed the lifelong object of his desire through sheer, blatant stupidity.

5. Flip-flops are not proper footwear for pit crew personnel.

[JsnPpp]

I made it through! Good story and well written. Sounds like the car is in good hands and you needed more project anyway, right? :-)

-Jason

[williamggruff]

Jason,

Many thanks for the compliment. Had I waited to get the car home before ordering the plate I would have gone with DON K3Y. I certainly earned that badge. And the Virginia DMV wouldn't let me have A55PONY.

Williamggruff