Date:         Wed, 13 Jul 1994 18:54:14 -0400
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         an467@freenet.carleton.ca (Ralf MacGrady)
Subject:      Re: hi-speed hijinks 


>167mph in a Ferrari 308s (two people, on a race track, forget RPM)
      \__Yum!

Well, I never push the beast past 65mph if I can help it at all...
But the first time I drove it to Toronto  (about 470miles), which 
incidentally was the first extended journey I'd ever taken with it;
I was 'forced' to drive it quite fast.

What happened was that at one of the gas stations we stopped at
there was another bus filling up and being puttered with by the
owner:  He was making grunting noises at this oil temp sender he 
was using as a dip stick.  See, I make it a habit to check the oil
and get a 'grok' as to the state of my engine.  Natrually enough
we had to compare notes as to how our engines were doing...  His
was far hotter than I would consider 'normal' or conducive to an 
extended life.  Mine was fine. <smug look>  I consider normal to be
hotter than warm but not hot enough to hurt when placing ones hand 
on the engine case.  Pull the dipstick and the handle should be
slightly *slightly* warm.  Of course I asked him what kind of oil
he was running (having the Muir 'Rap on Oil' wrapped in my DNA).
The memory gets a bit washed out due to a myriad of fermented
products between then and now, but if memory (what's left of it)
serves;  he said something to effect of:  'W50 <burble, burble>'.

"Hmm.", I said to myself, looking at all the nifty expensive 
paraphenalia he had (in the bus, on the bus, and a pricey paint
job. The engine, from what my untutored eye could tell, was stock).
"Could I be *wrong* in thinking that the W30detergent was not up to 
the task"  But then I was going a sedate 65 and this maniac had
passed me like a disturbed bat in the belfrey.  I shrugged my
shoulders and went on my way while this fellow rested his machine...

But it got me thinking:  How much could I push 'The Beast' before
it would exact its pound of flesh?  Slowly, my foot depressed the
accelerator.  More and more.  I couldn't help myself.  I *had* to 
know...  For the next two hours, like a man posessed, I had the 
speedo between 75 and 85mph.  All the while a crazed mantra of:
"Please don't die.  Please don't die.", rattled behind my staring 
eyes.

The upshot?  When we finally got where we were going the first
thing I did was to lay my hand on the engine case.  The tension
bound in my shoulders released:  The case was warm, but not *too*
warm.  And the dip stick was still just right.  
My oil?  Valvoline 30Wdetergent (summer)
                   10W30        (winter)  will experiment with
                                         
                        


--
Ralf MacGrady   an467@freenet.carleton.ca