Hi. I’m New Here

[Pumper72]

(01-18-2022 06:42 PM)Pumper72 Wrote:  [quote='CrankieMonster' pid='5436' dateline='1642493070']
Hi there and welcome! 60 years is quite impressive! I know exactly what you mean about the warning lights coming on in sequence during a stall, just something about that isn't there

Thanks for sharing!

My earliest cranking/staling memory dates back to when I was just 3. It was a cold and wet Saturday morning - and the memories are vivid for something so long ago. This was the start of the main effect on me. We all got in the family Hillman Imp and my Dad tried to start the engine. It proved difficult. We were all in the enclosed space of the car with our coats on. Dad had taken the dog for a walk just before - so his coat was already sodden as it was raining hard. His coat smelt very strongly of this dampness, all mixed in with the petrol fumes. It was an intoxicating aroma. The coat he was wearing was a thing called a Gannex Mac. A lot of men had these at that time. Prime Minister Harold Wilson had one which he wore, and Internet research tells me that lots of men bought them because of that. This coat was made of extremely robust material and the sleeves whistled as he reached repeatedly for the choke and the keys, and the “skirt” of the coat also whistled as it rubbed against the vinyl seats. He quickly became cross with the car - which I found frightening and exciting in equal measure. “DAMN! Start!!” So we’ve got two senses aroused so far. The smell of the coat and petrol, and the sound of the whistling raincoat, his cursing - and the telltale rasping cranking noise… “Galla lalla lalla lalla lalla… DAMN AND BLAST!” The sense of touch was also at play though. The Hillman Imp had a rear engine - and I was on the back seat. A cranked engine made the seat shudder under my small frame, vibrating against me - and sight was also at play. I could see the looks of anger on his face - and the ignition/oil lights pulsing on the dashboard, only to re-illuminate fully each time he released the keys to confirm the car was in defiance of the authoritative figure that was my Dad, in his almost military style raincoat! Those ignition and oil stall warning lights btw? My parents always referred to them as “the jerking lights.” No idea way - and I’ve never heard anyone else call them that. Apart from me. I rather like the terminology! More sounds would stimulate my hearing too. The keys jingling noisily in the ignition as he turned them, and the gentle click-click after each failed crank, as he quickly switched the ignition off, then back on before trying the starter again. So cranking was a sensory experience then. It was then. It still is now - and I still love watching people stall and crank, and when they’ve got their coat on it’s best of all for me! In the end that day, he must’ve got it started, and I just know that it will have stalled again every time he pulled up somewhere, because that’s what it always did. One thing does stand out about this particular morning though. We lived in a little market town called Brampton - in Cumbria then. Dad had decided to park on The Market Square. There were just a small number of spaces there and they were often full. When we got there every space was taken. You could drive right round The Market Square though. The main road through the town ran along the bottom of it, and there was a minor road that ran right round the rest of it. Looking at Google Earth - it hasn’t changed to this day, so I know my memory isn’t playing tricks. Because of the way the road is configured, there are only 2 places where a driver has to give way, and these two places are just a few yards apart on the circuit. I remember we had to drive round many times, in the downpour, before he eventually got a space, and each and every time we came to one of the two junctions, the back seat gave its tell-tale little shudder, and a split second later, the jerking lights came on. “Damn, damn, damn and BLAST!” He always said something like that when it happened, and with the two junctions do close together - he’d barely get re-started at the first one before we stalled at the second one. Each time, the coat sleeve would whistle as he reached for the keys which jingled, and then there was that little click-click before the cranking started as he switched the ignition off and then back on. The Imp’s cranking noise was staccato and the car sounded as angry as him. “Galla lalla lalla lalla lalla lalla…” That sort of noise. It often took 2 or 3 goes to restart too. So you’d get something like this. “BLAST! Whistling coat… Jingle jingle. Click-click… Galla lalla lalla lalla lalla lalla BLAST!” And repeat. And so on… The Imp had another trait too. It never seemed to stall with a big lurch like some cars do. I’d just feel that slight shudder in my body through the back seat, then it would roll almost silently to a halt. Not quite silently. It made a little noise like it was exhaling with delight! No wonder I was hooked. I’ll type you up some more when I get a minute but it really is no wonder that the whole cranking stalling thing became so big for me given this beginning.