I'd said in my previous post:
"I'm getting to think this car is kind of like its owner (which is why I - and my wife - like it so much? ). I claim "Jack of all trades / master of none" of myself - and it seems just as true for this Marshal, too. Doesn't do anything in the most refined, capable, perfect manner... but it'll try anything and succeed (to varying degrees) at a fair bit of it."
Well, got thinking after I’d written that (but it was 2AM then, just a few hours before we were to leave, and I was cold/weary enough to want desperately to stay in bed) that it would’ve been a lot less self-glorifying (and a lot more accurate) if I’d included the words, “by God’s grace” just before the word “succeed” up there.
“Pride comes before a fall” says the ancient - but ever pertinent - wisdom literature. While the Messiah, in another assault to our self-proclaimed autonomy, declared,
“Without Me you can do nothing.”
Let us be clear here, with full disclosure:
If I - in and of myself - were such a generally “successful” sort of fellow (to any degree), I:
1. …would have had all three bolts in the self-starter, and well-tightened – in which case the top one wouldn’t have snapped off and left everything hanging by the bottom one (
around Bhuntar).
2. …would have had an extra voltage regulator along with me, or at least the presence of mind to have got a new genuine one last time I was out of Manali – in which case I wouldn’t have had the alternator brushes sticking and the charging system repeatedly shutting down (
Sundarnagar).
3. …would have refused to accept that very confident “
chalega!” from the local Manali mechanic (he’d worked a decade plus in Delhi, after all) who’d assured me my 3rd/4th gears and (especially) their associated parts were just fine (I could see they were worn in places) – in which case the gearbox wouldn’t have got stuck in fourth
(around Swarghat).
4. …would have gone to whatever extra trouble was required to obtain genuine Mahindra cylinder liner o-rings when I rebuilt the engine a year ago. In which case they wouldn’t have (it seems) slowly leaked, run the water level down, and ultimately blown a head gasket
(before Mohal).
5. …would have done a lot better job on the valves, too - in which case the power gains I’d expected after my engine rebuild (it was really in pretty worn condition when we bought the car) would actually have been realized.
Oh my – what a terrible journey it was… for both the families aboard, mind you – four adults, a truly adult-sized 8th-class student, and our 1&3-year olds... This is NOT what I’d had in mind at all when we set out, especially since the car had been so relatively trouble-free during our last long run and all the time since, wherein a lot of additional rebuilding had taken place. We had a much better car now than then, I thought. After all, I (that smug “jack of all trades”) had personally performed most of that work
myself. I’m really going to have to learn my lesson with firm finality one of these days.
Till then, even (or especially) in the midst of my own vain foolishness, He shows Himself gracious:
1. Found another bolt for the starter (near
Ner Chowk), and fortunately still had one empty hole to put it in. Tightened both, and no trouble after that.
2. It was daylight, so the dysfunctional charging system was not much of an issue; was able to do five minutes’
jugaad twice along the way till we found a new regulator a few hours onwards – before dark - that cost only 1/3rd of what I’d had to pay in Manali last time.
3.
Swarghat (
so fortunately for us) is the beginning of the final near-continuous downhill run towards the plains. Any time before that, we’d have been in big trouble, but we managed easily now, completely in fourth gear, till a workshop at
Kiratpur, where an expert mechanic barked out orders to his staff and worked hard himself for maybe 40 minutes (removing the floor access plate and “tapa” [gearbox top and selector mechanism], unjamming the gears, and staking in the offending parts, with a guarantee that this would never happen again) – and billing us, with a smile, all of Rs100 for his efforts.
4. Though we were midway between Kiratpur and Mohal when the head gasket blew - kind of in the middle of nowhere - help appeared on the scene within moments. We nearly got off track with the one and only mechanic in the area, who turned out to be far too opportunistic for my tastes (quoting a price corresponding to an entire engine rebuild, without even having disassembled / inspected anything; and then, when I rejected the offer, insisting (unsuccessfully) that he would need Rs1,000 compensation for his minimal roadside assistance (basically consisting of pouring water into the engine so excessively – with a full bucket - that it pumped out the breather pipe); providing a 100-meter lift to our friend’s family; and leading me to his shop to be victimized!)… But on the positive side, I did meet a shopkeeper back out on the highway who reminded me of the excellent repair facilities available at Manimajra, 40km ahead in Chandigarh – and who arranged to have our car (and us) towed there for a very reasonable price. Our friends, who had needed to be in Delhi the following day to catch a train, were able – from a highway rest-stop just a stone’s throw away - to board an onward-bound HRTC bus and get to where they needed to be.
5. Arriving in Chandigarh after a three-hour tow by a very agreeable and decent young fellow – who protested the extra I gave him for his patient and diligent efforts – I met three men at a roadside food stall seated in a M&M pickup, who recommended the man they felt was the best Mahindra specialist in the market, who would be there in the morning. They also pointed us to a hotel immediately across the road, where we found food and a comfortable enough room for the night in a location perfectly convenient to our purposes.
6. Next day was a full one. Head mechanic didn’t show up till around noon, but his staff were fairly capable young men (amazing to find guys with a half-dozen years’ experience who are only 20 years old…). The shops are still completely outdoor and a little gritty, but at least situated on tarmac, and a genuine Mahindra parts supplier was just behind us. The pot-bellied foreman, when he did show up finally, was not particularly friendly or communicative, but he warmed up as the day progressed, had the clear authority required to keep things moving, performed all the critical bits himself, and wasn’t rushing it, taking pains to check, test, and re-check everything thoroughly. By the end of the day, having assisted him here and there and having got my own hands (and self) somewhat blackened under the car (installing the connecting rod caps), we seemed to be good buddies.
So now everything’s been done as “right” as possible: New genuine M&M liners (just to be absolutely sure), M&M o-ring seals, M&M head gasket, M&M motor oil, filter, and whatever incidental bits (injector return line kit) etc, etc. seemed prudent. And Castrol coolant/antifreeze to replace the Manali-sourced
desi stuff that had been lost out on the highway. Even took the cylinder head apart and delivered it to a specialist, who put in new valve seats and re-lapped the nearly-new valves; Last time I’d bought H.S.S. cutters to re-do the old seats myself, but wasn’t very happy with the results (valves were sitting too low in the head, and upon completion, the engine sound indicated that one of the intakes was leaking a bit besides).
Bill for parts/fluids/other materials finally came to a bit under Rs7,000, and labor/services (including the cylinder head) to around Rs3,500 – the latter a little high maybe, but there’s this old maxim related to skilled work:
“You can get it done right, fast, or cheap – pick any TWO.” So being that: a) multiple individuals had worked all day to complete it for us by evening (=“
fast”), finishing off in the glow of the underhood service light and mobile phone torches – and b) that this guy really did seem pretty conscientious and less of the
“chalega” sort (=“
right”) – I didn’t feel right about trying to bargain him down: to be fair, you only get to pick two. We were in a tight spot and he did an admirable job for us on short notice. That’s worth paying for, in my book. Some extra cash came into our hands later in the journey anyway…(see below) that helped offset it all.
7. Kids did just fine in the midst of all the uncertainty / delay and our oversight in forgetting to bring any of their toys along. Our three-year-old occupied himself thoroughly (and delightedly) darkening himself in the deep roadside dust where we blew the head gasket. And next day with the tools of the trade, grabbing a wrench from his perch on the fender, reaching down and applying it to whatever he fancied was in need of his attention, and proclaiming, “I have to help uncle fix it… I just
have to!” - much to the amusement of mechanics and observers alike. Neither he nor the little one, despite unpredictable foods along the way and all the little soiled fingers in their mouths, became ill on account. My praiseworthy wife was extremely gracious, understanding, and supportive through the whole ordeal, and I suspect the family’s presence there actually served to spur on those who laboured in our service.
8. Even after this, I have reason to believe this is still a great and very suitable car for us. Apart from all the trouble, it really was running impressively all day, pulling itself and what was probably 700kg or so of passengers/excessive luggage very willingly up whatever gradient, through whatever road damage (the National Highway really doesn’t deserve such a designation at an awful lot of points in those hills), and confidently around endless twists and turns. It feels pretty tight now, and though rigid (live)-axle front suspensions are not supposed to be too great at speed over broken / irregular pavements, it proved entirely undramatic and predictable; so the attendant confidence required to make good time through it all was easy to muster. Later, in the plains with everything sorted, I was needing only half throttle application to cruise with the general flow of traffic on the Chandigarh-Delhi expressway. Could’ve run much faster and been overtaking all but a few (like the last time) but wanted to take it easy now and not court more trouble for this day.
9. Thankfully, the engine actually feels stronger now than it ever has. I think the key was in the cylinder head; having ported / modified some earlier (and read much more), I know heads are SO crucial to power production, and here I think that the close circumferential contours around the too-low-seated valves were restricting airflow. The low valves must also have been (unhelpfully, especially in a diesel) decreasing compression ratio a bit. So very interested to see, upon return, how it runs up around Manali, on familiar roads where changes will be more easily comparable (i.e., speeds/gears at certain locations/inclines). Glad we had this opportunity to get it done; easier than pulling it apart up in the hills again, as I’d planned to. Beyond the apparent power improvement, it is additionally affirming / hope-instilling to hear the mechanic at Chandigarh telling me that the MDI3200 is still “Number One in all the market – and better than the turbo version, too”. At least a couple other mechanics had expressed such sentiments to me earlier. It’s a solid mill.
But I felt even less disappointed about all the car trouble a couple days onward, when our Calcutta-Aizawl flight was cancelled, after sitting a couple hours on the tarmac and being shuffled around the airport for a couple more, due to mechanical failure (a turbine that refused to start, apparently, despite the best efforts of the engineers treading back and forth between the cabin / engine those couple hours). I mean, if a highly precision-engineered, meticulously-maintained-by-law passenger aircraft can experience significant unexpected failures despite the best efforts and continuous attention of expert staff, then how could I expect more from our lowly tractor-engine-powered Jeep?
Another upside of the plane’s breakdown is that we were granted another day in our favourite of all Indian cities, Kolkata - and
that with considerably excessive airline compensating cash-in-pocket with which to enjoy it.
It was back there in Cal. that unexpected day that I was also able to meet one of the more fascinating souls I’ve encountered since first setting foot in India nearly sixteen years ago:
We'd returned to our guesthouse to find parked in the driveway a 4x4 Jeep station wagon much like our own, but painted (vs. the fresh metallic polyurethane ours sports) in a crusty flat-black paint from top to bottom, its bulging 31x10.50 tyres and complex appendages (shields, guards, chains, handles, and accessory lighting - all in flat black, mind you) lending it a positively post-apocalyptic air more fitting the set of Mad Max than the quaint, proper, well-manicured old British compound that it presently sat in the midst of. Here was a NGCS-era 4x4 Armada fully transformed and I suppose better living up to its name - indeed, it would stand out considerably less amongst the vessels of a battle-fleet than against the bustling, multi-hued family-transporters of any roadway. With great curiosity (and wondering if I’d have done better to build our Marshal like this!), I snapped off a few photos, then looked around, wondering at what sort of owner it must have.
When I spotted him, a quick scan provided positive enough identification: Middle-aged, with a ponytail holding his long, greying hair; matching full beard and black skull cap; black vest and tee-shirt atop camo pants, and at the lower end shiny black combat boots. Was he Indian? Nepali? His eyes could make you guess he was Chinese. But whatever, this would definitely be the man. "You want that car, I'll sell it to you for a song," he called over cheerily. Seems he's done something approaching 700,000km in it over fourteen years. We got talking: Turns out he's an Indian national of mixed Bengali/Middle-Eastern parentage and had served in the Indian army; At some point abroad he was apparently robbed of all his effects / captured by the
Hamas and having escaped (?), yet with no way to prove his identity - and with complex diplomatic issues then ruling the day - he was unable to come back to India, so somehow ended up several years in the Israeli military.
Finally returned to his homeland, he appears to have become something like a freelance social service provider for the Eastern Himalayan region. He’s also an avid photographer. Moreover, he seems to be a holy man of sorts, a purveyor of Jesus’ love and of famously fiery devotional sessions – which I can’t imagine being anything if not extremely interesting. This is one guy I simply must meet again, and plan to do so that week in February that, preceding the family, I'll be alone in Calcutta. I suspect I’ve got a lot to learn from him, be it sacred or even automotive in nature - life stories quite this unusual are few and far between, and the lessons learned in the midst of them, when shared, can serve to inspire and build up another.
So everything finally worked out for our good. We’re here in Aizawl safe and sound since that following morning (where, tangentially, 4x4’s and appealing bikes abound – including a sweet-sounding Ducati 795 I spotted my second day out – and where Christmas preparations are in full swing); so what’s left to be said?
Well, as the Lord spoke to one saint of old in his own time of trial:
“My grace is sufficient for you”.
Having personally experienced the truth of that once again, I’ll believe and continue to walk (and/or drive / ride) forward in it.
Regards,
-Eric