The key to life.

I had two copies of Selma Lee's key made yesterday. Which is a good place to start.

I was on my bike- running errands- and Ace Hardware couldn't make the extra keys. Apparently they don't regularly stock blanks for '77 Mercedes... so they recommended a specialty lock store. I rode my bike there. Not only did the owner have plenty of blanks for my key- he also had several feet of wall dedicated to blank Skeleton keys... apparently there are still really old houses in Downtown Prescott that use old skeleton locks- which blows my mind. And he regularly makes new keys and reworks the old locks.

Anyway- I'm on my bike- and he says I should check and make sure the keys work, before I throw them in a drawer and pull them out for an emergency. I grimaced slightly. There was a reason I was on my bike, and not driving my car. Since I had gotten home late Saturday night, I had not tried to start my dear Selma Lee.

Segway into a little bit about the trip.


I picked up the car last Wednesday afternoon, from a mechanic/shop owner, named Norman. And I set out driving on US Highway 82. I got a bit passed Montgomery, Alabama (on US 80 now) when I heard a not too loud popping noise. At first- I thought some part of my car had just fallen off, but then I heard the tell-tall thump, thump, thump of a flat tire and I calmed myself down, telling myself This is something you know how to do, and pulled over to the side of the road.

So- Mercedes-Benz's have little holes in the frame, next to each of the wheels and a proprietary jack that fits into these holes for proper positioning. Unfortunately, they seem to think you're only going to get a flat tire on a road with a paved shoulder, cause the bottom of the jack, the part that goes on the ground, is a meager four inch-diameter circle. I was trying to change a tire on a sandy shoulder, and the jack kept tipping sideways, sinking down into the sand, I had nothing to put behind the wheels of the tires to hold the car in place, and had a few moments of uncertainty while I called Dave and tried to get him to give me a MacGyver solution. Eventually I managed to get the car jacked-up, new wheel on, and I was set to go... I won't even talk about the fact that I didn't get good cell-phone coverage, the battery was dieing when I called Dave- and I thought if I couldn't get it figured out, I was sleeping in my car for the night and walking the eight miles back to Montgomery the next morning, cause I wouldn't have enough juice to call a tow truck.

So- that night, I drove to Selma, Alabama- about twenty miles west on US 80 from where I flatted, and the nearest town. That would be where the Selma part of Miss Selma Lee Suiby comes from. Tired and dirty, I got a room at the first low-cost motel chain that came into view, unloaded Everything out of my car (as I didn't want to try locking the doors for fear I wouldn't be able to unlock them), took a very long, very hot bath to try to relax, and went to sleep.

Next morning- bright, beautiful, clear morning in Alabama. I go to start my car. She doesn't want to. I wait for the glow plugs to warm up, I turn the key, and she cranks and cranks and just won't catch. Then she cranks and cranks and barely catches, and I let the key turn to the regular on position, and the car sputters and dies.

I call Norman.

He listens to the car over the phone. He instructs me on things to try- nothing works. He has me pop the hood and inspect things for him- looks like a clogged inline fuel filter. He says it will need to be changed, as well as the main fuel filter.

I say- Look, I'm in a parking lot of a hotel in Selma, Alabama. Is there anything I can do to get this car started so I can drive it to a shop and not have to pay a tow truck.

He says I ought to be able to change the inline one myself, and that ought to get the car started. I look around. There are Three autoparts stores within two blocks of my hotel... so I go over to O'Reilly's AutoParts. They're very helpful- they carry the fuel filter I need, and lend me a screw driver to use on the hose clamps. I sacrifice a tank top I brought with me as a grease rag, and I get the fuel filter changed (not without fuel spewing out all over the place for the 30 seconds while I wrestled to get the new one in and tightened down).

Now- I don't want to try starting the car till I know where I'm going to drive it next, so I return the screw driver and ask the handy folks at O'Reilly's if they know anyone in town that works on old Mercedes, or diesels. (Luckily- I borrowed the phone book from my hotel room- as I was going to have to find a tire place as well, cause my spare was larger then my other tires and I was going to need to get that straightened out before I drove another 1,600 miles).

So I start calling places- it goes something like this-

No I'm sorry, we don't work on Mercedes/diesels/cars that old/what are you talking about???

One place might be able to do it- but they definitely don't have the part. So I walk back over to O'Reilly's and buy the part (they have it)... and keep calling places. I say-

Hello- I have a '77 Mercedes Diesel, I Have the fuel filter, I just need someone to put it on for me, can you do that, please???

The response-

Well- we don't do that- you might try calling NameOfSomewhereElse.

Me- Thanks so much- but they told me to call you... (sound of bitter weeping)

I literally call three dozen places... I don't even know if my car will start yet- and no one seems capable of unscrewing a bolt, pulling off the old filter, and putting the new one in... really... it's a filter for gosh sakes!!! (If I had known how easy it was at the time, I might have tried it myself... but I didn't).

I get to the very bottom of the phone listings- York Auto and Truck Repair. I call York-

Oh, yeah, sure, no problem, you got the filter, well then, don't see why not, bring her right over.

I drive out of town, over the bridge, turn down a long gravel road, and around a corner to a rusty old sheet metal building with two big auto bays, and the most soft spoken, friendly old gentleman I think I've ever met had me pull up my car, and we had a look.

We had a good look. We discussed the symptoms, and he replaced the filter. We stood around talking while we watched the engine run, to make sure there weren't any leaks coming out of either of the newly replaced fuel filters. He said I might be just a little crazy for what I was doing- driving that car across the South. I told him I was trying to keep a good attitude- I had told the guy at the auto parts store- if I didn't manage to get her started, maybe I'd just stay right there in Selma. In his soft, under-spoken way he says-

Not that I would mind having you here- but there are better places then Selma.


When we determined that everything looked at right- I asked him where he'd recommend I go to get a few new tires so I'd have even tires on the back. I drive back into town (he gave great directions, both ways) and pull into a local tire place. I don't so much as get my engine turned off before there's a guy come out the door, looking at my tires and writing down numbers on a little pad of paper.

I look up confused- he sees my look and says- Why, we got a phone call, been expecting you, we'll get you going in no time.

And they did.

After that I had no problem starting up the car for the rest of the day. Drove some four hundred plus miles through Alabama, Mississippi and into Arkansas, before I finally got a room. Woke up the next morning- tried to start my car.

She cranked and cranked, and fizzled a few seconds after I left off the starter.

So I did what I had done the day before- I turned the key over and hit the gas, and she caught and I threw her into drive before she had time to die.

Rest of the day, she started fine. Though the longer she sat, the more hesitant she'd be.

Last day- waking up in Lubbock, Texas- not something I would recommend, didn't manage to see a single redeeming quality in that city... I had to hit the gas again to get her started... even harder then the day before.

Once I got her home I didn't want to think about what else might be wrong with her. So I was a bit hesitant to try starting her.


Last night- I had the new keys- I had to at least see if they would turn and start the glow plugs- so sitting in the front seat with a key in the ignition- I couldn't really continue to ignore the known problem.

I tried to start her. Hit the gas- white smoke streaming out the tail pipe- neighbors looking on- no luck. Tried my best timing. Listened to her make a high pitched screeching sound I hadn't heard before- and promptly stopped.

Today I'm doing more research. Got an e-mail back from Norman- I asked him a few questions and without my even suggesting it- he suggested I might be having the same issue I had thought, yesterday, was probably the culprit.


There may be things growing in my diesel fuel. Well- in the places my fuel passes through. (Thereby getting into my diesel, getting filtered out of my diesel and clogging up the inline fuel filter much quicker then normal).

My car has most likely spawned a whole community of Algae and their compatriots- and as much as I'm an environmentalist- I think the members of this habitat are headed for extinction.


The repercussions of this, I may or may not be able to handle on my own. We shall see.