2009 Toyota RAV4 Water Pump Replacement -Thank You, St. Christopher

My biggest concern after the pulley fell off the water pump on my 2009 Toyota RAV4 V-6, leaving me stranded on the Ohio Turnpike, wasn't whether a texting motorist or semi would plow into me, but whether the engine's head gaskets had been damaged by running the engine hot—however briefly that was. That possibility seemed to dwarf any concerns I had at the time about my own safety and getting myself and my car back home. Read more about that odyssey here.

I knew it was the water pump because the strange whirring sound from its failing bearing had recently gotten much, much worse. It was the same sound the water pump was making when I first bought the RAV three years ago from a friend who insisted, after I replaced it, that he had told me it needed to be replaced. Somehow, we're still the best of friends.

It had been on my to-do list to replace the pump, but I didn't prioritize it because a mechanic I use for work that's above my pay grade said that as long as the pump wasn't leaking—which it wasn't—and was "holding pressure," which it was, I shouldn't be too concerned about it.

Well, mechanics, like doctors, don't know everything.

The failing bearing got so bad that the pump shaft developed enough play that the pulley was literally shaken loose from its mounting. As bad as the circumstances were, being stranded out where God lost his bicycle, I shudder to think about how much worse it could have been.

That same mechanic who told me not to be too concerned about the wobbly pump also told me there was no simple way to determine whether the engine's head gaskets had been damaged. Sure, there's a cooling-system pressure test, a combustion-gas test of the coolant, compression testing and a leak-down test. But determining whether an engine had actually suffered damage from overheating would be a lot easier with engine running at operating temperature.

Naturally, that couldn't be done since the water pump was AWOL.

So I would have to pay my mechanic—or some shop—full freight for the water-pump swap regardless of whether or not the head gaskets were shot. The going rate for that job was about $1,200. My guy wouldn't give me a quote because he didn't feel it was right to do the job, discover that the head gaskets were toast, and then not follow through with rebuilding the engine on a vehicle with so many miles—nearly 330,000—on it.

The same can't be said for other shops around town. Can't say I blame them either.

That put me in a conundrum: junk the RAV or swap the pump myself and hope for the best.

To know me is to know I took the latter option.

Replacing the water pump on Toyota's famed 2GR-FE, 3.5-liter V-6 isn't a particularly complicated job, but it is a tedious one that requires you to work mostly stooped over in a cramped space. There's a fair amount of disassembly, and it requires careful cataloging of what came off and where it goes back; hence, I took plenty of pictures and video. The 2GR-FE water-pump job involves removing the two-piece, hydraulic motor mounts, water-pump pulley, belt-related components and the thermostat/water-inlet housing, among other things.

Getting the radiator hose off the thermostat housing is a beast, and then making sure the gasket between the thermostat housing and the water inlet is secure is literal water torture—more like coolant torture. You don't know if you did everything correctly until you put the coolant back in and check for leaks.

One bit of advice: to test your work for leaks, fill the system with distilled water and let it sit overnight. If it holds the water, you can drain it and refill the system with the Toyota approved and pricey coolant. You'll need just under 10-quarts. 

Through the heat, humidity, the tight workspace and the added stress that all I was doing might be for naught, I got the old pump out and the new one installed in three days.

My palms sweaty, my heart racing, I filled the system with coolant, praying to St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers, that there were no leaks and that all my work wasn't for naught. 

I learned the hard way about the system leaking. First go-round, I missed that the gasket between the thermostat housing and the pump falling out, imagine my misery seeing the coolant slowly drip out of the engine knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it and that I'd have to practically redo have of my work. 

If my efforts were all in vain, that would mean tearing everything apart again to get the new pump out and return it. That would have been an exercise in abject sadness.

Then came the big test: Would the engine get up to operating temperature and stay there, or would it overheat? If it did overheat, would I junk the RAV, get quotes on an engine rebuild or go for a straight-up engine swap? And how much would all of that cost?

All that was going through my mind as I started the RAV for the first time with the new pump.

There was no strange whirring, just the same smooth and silken purr of the big engine I've come to know and love over the past three years.

I gingerly backed out of my garage, down my driveway and onto my street. Gentle pokes on the gas pedal followed as I turtled through my subdivision, keeping a laser-focused eye on the temperature gauge.

Slowly, it began to creep up and up. I made sure not to stray from my neighborhood; best to stay literally close to home in case I had to stop driving it.

The gauge continued to rise slowly. I turned the heat on, and warm air blew gently through the cabin—a good sign. I took the RAV slowly around the block twice as the temperature gauge stopped at its familiar operating-temperature position. The heat was now its old blazing-hot self.

I went back to my garage, checked the coolant level and sniffed hard for burning coolant. All seemed good.

Another, longer drive an hour or so later produced the same result: no drama. After a weekend of short road trips, the verdict was looking pretty good. Thank you, St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers. 

My 2009 Toyota RAV4 V-6 Limited lives to die another day.

1993 Ford Probe GT - Regrets, I've Had a Few

Although I claim to be a GM girl, if I could go back to the mid-1990s, I'd buy a Ford Probe GT like this rather than the 1994 Chevrolet Lumina Z34 and 1997 Chevrolet Monte Carlo LS I did buy. I have few regrets, so if I regret a handful of automotive purchasing indiscretions, I can live with that.

A big part of my motivation for going GM back then was that I had a wad of "GM Dollars" on my GM Mastercard. That was real money I could throw at the purchase of a new GM car or truck. If I recall correctly, back then you could pile up as much as $3,500, which could be applied toward the purchase or lease of a new GM vehicle.

Was such a deal enough to get me into one of these sleek beauties? Driven back-to-back, I don't know how I could possibly have gone with what I did. Although, truth be told, I don't recall even looking at these cars back then. Funny how, at times, we fumble big decisions in life.

Then again, "GM Dollars."

I know I looked at a Honda Accord coupe when purchasing my 1997 Monte Carlo, but I wasn't enamored enough with its styling to stray. That was before Honda stuffed a honkin' 3.0-liter V-6 in them, too. This pretty girl has never bought a daily driver with a four-cylinder engine. I have my standards, you know.

I also had extreme myopia. My focus when I got the 1994 Lumina Z34 was to upgrade my 1990 Lumina Euro 3.1. The 1997 Monte Carlo was more driven by the GM bucks than the Z34 was. 

Dream big, grasshopper.

The 1993 model year was the first for the second-generation Probe, which Ford developed in partnership with Mazda. Ford had owned roughly a quarter of Mazda since 1979, and the relationship between the two companies was already well established by the time the second-generation Probe arrived.

The O.G. 1989–1992 Probes, though, were little more than "Fordified" Mazda MX-6s. The second-generation cars were still based on the same basic Mazda architecture, but Ford was involved much earlier in the engineering and had considerably more influence over the finished product.

Starting with a substantially larger and more stable footprint, Ford's engineers stretched the wheelbase by almost four inches and pushed the track out front and rear by more than two inches. That gave Ford's stylists a much larger canvas on which to drape what I think is still one of the prettiest designs of the era.

And underneath that gorgeous skin, the GT got a Mazda-engineered 2.5-liter, DOHC V-6 making 164 horsepower. The wild and crazy turbocharged four-cylinder that powered the first-generation Probe GT was gone.

Supposedly, the first-generation Ford Probe, which I thought had the charm of a block of wood, was originally intended to replace the Fox-body Mustang. Mustang Nation pushed back hard against the idea of replacing its rear-wheel-drive pony car with a front-wheel-drive, Mazda-based Mustang, and Ford ultimately kept the Mustang while introducing the Probe instead. 

Ford sold the Mustang and the Probe alongside each other through the end of the Probe's production run in 1997. 

Seems odd now that a manufacturer would target two of its cars at roughly the same buyer, but pony-car loyalists are cut from a different bolt of cloth than most casual fans of sporty two-door coupes.

Had Ford followed through with badging the 1989 Probe a Mustang, or at best come out with these cars then and done so—would the world have come off its axis? Well, to us car wonks, it would have, briefly. But driven back-to-back, I don't think you could make a legitimate argument that the old pony was any match for the new one.

Of course, that's hindsight talking. And hindsight has never required a car payment.

This particular Probe sold on Cars & Bids for just $12,500 back in May of this year northwest of Indianapolis, Indiana in Brownsberg. With just 26,000 miles on her 33-year-old ticket and looking almost showroom fresh, someone got a lot of car for their money. 

Granted, there's a lot to consider when buying a car that hasn't been made in nearly thirty years. Parts and trim specific to the Probe can certainly be less readily available than for something with a much larger enthusiast following. Still, it's not exactly a "catalog car."

1981 Checker Marathon - Something Blue

People buy old, worn-out fleet vehicles primarily because they're looking for a cheap vehicle that can be rejuvenated fairly inexpensively; that or they need something for a demolition derby. That's harder to do these days since fleet vehicles, just like most cars today, are so technologically dense that even dealership mechanics can struggle to diagnose problems. Even if you can do the work yourself, figuring out what's wrong in the first place is more than half the struggle; then there's the cost of the parts, which can be prohibitive.

That wasn't necessarily the case years ago. Some hearty folks used to buy old police cars and taxi cabs, tweak them here and there, and then run them further into the ground. Few actually fixed them up as nicely as the man who bought this 1981 Checker Marathon did in 1995.

This had been a Cleveland, Ohio, taxicab. He made whatever repairs it needed and painted over its yellow paint in this pretty shade of what's described as "robin's egg blue." The top is painted white. Then he used it as his daily driver for more than twenty years.

If this car looks a lot older than something that was built and sold in 1981, that was not so much by design as by company operating philosophy.

Checker Corporation of Kalamazoo, Michigan, introduced the basic design that would become its famous Marathon in the late 1950s and continued building essentially the same basic body and chassis through 1982. The Marathon name itself was introduced for the 1961 model year. The idea was that incremental changes and improvements would be made as needed, while the basic body and tough-as-nails chassis would remain largely unchanged.

Built on a rugged body-on-frame chassis, Checkers were known for their durability, reliability and cavernous interiors, especially when compared with many other cars of the era. Their heavy-duty construction was particularly well suited to the punishment of taxi service.

Chevrolet often supplied the engines, and this one is powered by a Chevrolet-built 229-cu.-in. V-6.  Like the Checker itself, it's a relatively straightforward, durable engine that, aside from doing its assigned tasks with unassuming aplomb, is remarkable in how unremarkable it is.

Engines weren't the only parts glommed from the General Motors parts bin. Keen-eyed spotters will note that this is a late-'70's\'80's Chevrolet steering wheel affixed to a GM Saginaw steering column. Looks as out of place here as modern rims do on classic cars, but it gets the job done. 

Checker also sold cars directly to the public, although the vast majority of its production went to commercial and fleet customers. The company's consumer-market efforts began in earnest in 1959, and the A12 Marathon followed in 1961.

Sadly, the man who bought this old Cleveland taxi eventually became ill and passed away, His car sat in his garage for several years, unused and falling into disrepair. In 2022, as a tribute to his late father, his son restored the car to running condition. It was most recently used as "something blue" in his wedding.

Needing room in his garage for his children's toys, he has it for sale now on Marketplace, less than a half-hour south of the Triple Wide. Actual mileage is unknown, best bet is it's north of 200K. There is some frame rot. Asking price is $4,250.

 

1988 Mercury Colony Park - VCR's and Typewriters

If the notion of a luxury station wagon is as foreign to you as watching “over-the-air TV” or listening to the radio, well, kid, you didn't grow up in the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s or 1980s. The 1990s to some extent, too. And please, get off my lawn.

A luxury wagon like this 1988 Mercury Colony Park was what you drove back then if you wanted to swaddle yourself and your family in the lap of luxury while allowing yourself to be as pragmatic as possible.

This one found me on Facebook Marketplace for sale here in the Cleveland, Ohio, area with an asking price of $4,800. The ad lists it as a Mercury Marquis. Technically, that's not quite right: by 1988, the full-size wagon was the Colony Park version of the Grand Marquis. From 1984 onward, the Colony Park was Mercury's sole full-size station wagon, complete with its obligatory simulated wood-grain siding.

With its wood sides—no one ever thought they were real anyway—a Mercury Colony Park was Mercury's top-line full-size station wagon from its introduction in 1957 through 1991. While a fraction of the number of Colony Parks were sold compared with the number of Ford Country Squires, if buyers wanted the equivalent of a station-wagon Lincoln—which Lincoln never built—a Mercury Colony Park was about as close as they were going to get.

A family truckster for the well-heeled that looked as relatively at home at the country club as it did at Home Depot.

I know I'm not the only car guy who's got a thing for station wagons, and the more luxurious and stuffed with doo-daddery, the better.

                          

This one's got it all. Leather-trimmed seats, power windows and locks, air conditioning (I doubt it works), cruise control, tilt wheel and the apple of my 8- to 10-year-old eyes: twin, rear-facing fold-down, jump seats out back. 

Leather seating surfaces were an available option on the 1988 Colony Park rather than standard equipment. They weren't cheap either, figure about $415. The original owner of this "are we there yet" mobile spared no expense.  

By the end of the 1980s, station wagons as we knew them were circling the drain. The growing popularity of the minivan, followed by the rising popularity of SUVs, was eating into the traditional station wagon's territory. Ford's full-size station wagons disappeared after the 1991 model year, although Ford continued selling front-wheel-drive Taurus- and Mercury Sable-based wagons through 1995. GM continued to offer traditional full-size, body-on-frame, rear-wheel-drive wagons through 1996, when the Chevrolet Caprice and Buick Roadmaster wagons went away.

Chrysler got out of the station wagon business wagon after 1988. 

Curiously, Cadillac sold a wagon version of its CTS for the 2010–2014 model years, ostensibly giving luxury buyers an alternative to the German wagons from BMW and Mercedes-Benz that were still being offered at the time. Hey, don't laugh; the CTS wagon was an amazing car but found few buyers. 

Throw in the added surge in popularity of SUVs, and the station wagon, luxury or otherwise, was quickly becoming as irrelevant as VCRs and typewriters.

Our Marketplace gem here appears to have more than her fair share of problems. Rusted quarter panels mean there's probably more where that came from. The leather on the front seats is shot, and the door panels have been torn apart for an aftermarket stereo system, too.

Lastly but not leastly—and sadly—most of her simulated wood sides are faded and worn to the point that they only add to the dreariness of the whole package. Sorry, $4,800 seems like all the money in the world for this old luxury workhorse.

Perhaps it runs fine. Details in the ad, other than it “needs a windshield,” are scant.

It's fun to think about turning this into a sleeper of sorts. What massive junkyard truck engine and transmission could be stuffed into this thing to cost-effectively make it as fun as possible? Not before the interior gets sorted out first, though.

Today's do-everything-well crossovers and SUV's are not unlike our phones, which do most of the tasks we once needed separate appliances for well enough that we don't need those separate gadgets anymore. While some may lament the brand of the crossover or SUV they're driving, few, if any, complain about the vehicle itself per se—above and beyond its reliability or lack thereof.

That wasn't the case when this Colony Park's simulated—don't call it fake—wood siding was shiny and new. Back then, what type of vehicle you drove—sports car, pony car, personal luxury car, four-door sedan—said as much about you, whether you cared or not, as the logo on its hood and sides.