,
Even after filling the tractor tank and then pumping it into the Sipster, no amount of cranking will make it start. A Diesel engine’s fuel pump is belt driven, you see, and the engine has to be spinning a lot faster than the starter can manage before it can purge all that air it sucked when it ran dry.
Luckily, farmers also carry rope. After half a mile dragging the Sipster along in first gear, the fuel pump finally primes and the sweet symphony of Diesel clatter rattles out across the tundra once more.
So how exactly does one run out of fuel just 40 kilometers after an epic, week-long engine swap and rusty floorpan replacement operation? It’s called a learning process. Our TDI-powered Rabbit is a quirky little bastard. Keeping the modern ECU happy in an oldster body meant bringing along some of its friends for it to talk to, like the instrument cluster from the same 2003 Jetta that donated the engine. The ECU and cluster can talk all day about speed, RPM, coolant temp and all the warning light stuff and never know they’re in a Rabbit. The fuel gauge, though, is another story. The signal for the fuel gauge has to come from the Rabbit tank.
In a 1981 Rabbit, more volts coming from the fuel level sensor means there’s more fuel in the tank. In a 2003 Jetta, more volts means less fuel. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, the gas gauge now works backwards. If it’s on E and the low fuel light is on, it means the tank is full. No big deal, Jared knew this and left Regina with just under half a tank showing on the gauge. Halfway between Regina and Moose Jaw he learned another quirk of our new gauge: Half full means empty…
Sipster Day 11
US/Canada Border
Attempting to drive a baby-blue homeless camp though the border is probably enough by itself to get you the coveted customs strip search. Doing so with a New York driver’s license, driving a car with a temporary registration from New Jersey on your way to get a permanent registration in California after getting an engine swap in Saskatchewan is really just extra credit.
The good cop/bad cop routine starts right away. While Jared removes his layers and the Sipster endures unseen humiliation behind closed doors, one agent seems genuinely curious about the car. The other just wants to know where he stashed the knives.
There are no knives, just extra bumper struts leaking oil all over the place, a 300-piece socket set Jared found on sale, and a 10,000 RPM snowmobile tachometer from the ’70s hidden amongst the dirty laundry and surplus bodywork. Before long, it’s good cop/other good cop, everyone’s reading about the Sipster on TopGear.com and the first good cop is telling Jared about his own TDI and how he’s in the 700-mile club (Diesel nerds like to brag about how many miles they can get on a tank).
The crew in the Customs chop shop did a number on the Sipster, though. The interior is tossed, junk is everywhere, and, no, wait… that’s what it looked like before…
