A short night drive, what could go wrong?

"Reborn Pyrrhic" (pyrrhic) 01/13/2014 at 18:22 • Filed to: night drive, Peugeot, Peugeot 205, cabriolet, convertible, Germany, French, POS car, electrical problems, adventure

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Who cares if it's near freezing, roads are slippery and it's night time? When you got a car like a Peugeot 205 CTI you take it out any time you can. The car is a fun street legal go-kart. But...

I was out for a drive tonight when I had total electrical failure on my 205. It was in the middle of a small forest between two rural villages; I was going over 100 km/h going up a hill, went over the crest and my headlights flickered once. A quick sweeper to the left and the road leveled out. A half kilometer ahead on a slight downhill was another curve to the left in between the trees, and then I would arrive at the village of !!!error: Indecipherable SUB-paragraph formatting!!! . Only I arrived there in total darkness!

As the aforementioned road flattened by headlights flickered one more time, like a dying fish flopping one last time in a fisherman's bucket, and BAM! all went black. No headlights, no instrument, no brake lights, no nothing. Did I mention I was going 100 km/h, in a forest, on slippery roads (I have winter tires!), and there was a curve ahead? I tried jump starting the car a few times, every time just hearing the engine drone, and my speed getting lower (well, I needed that). It occurred to me that stopping right there in the middle of the forest, without even four way flashers to announce the presence of a disabled late eighties French cabriolet on the narrow road would be stupid. So I did the best thing I could: I grabbed my cellphone.

Why the cellphone? It has a flashlight that's why. My handy and trusty Samsung Galaxy S3 fired up quick and in a few seconds I had some sort of light to illuminate my way through the forest road. Holding up this small wonder of Korean technology in front of me, I shined its light through the windshield. Then it dawned on me why German roads always have those reflective sticks on both sides of the road every 25 meters or so: for people like me who insist on driving old cars with sketchy electrical systems on a wet winter night. The cellphone light was bright enough to reflect off the German cat eyes, and I just coasted, one hand on the steering wheel, on hand on the cellphone. Distracted driving at its best, only I wasn't distracted right now. I had all my senses peeled on the road, looking, listening, feeling, smelling for anything that would keep me on the pavement.

I negotiated the next curve with no problem, but a slight uphill leading into Sachsen bled speed off my car. By the time I entered the village's limits I was going 30 km/h, and I soon stopped at an intersection. This being after 10 pm on a northern Bavarian rural town meant everyone was asleep. I stepped off my little cabriolet that is more suited to the French Riviera than to the German countryside, and all was eerily quiet. I couldn't leave my car where I was and saw a parking spot a hundred meters ahead.

The road was dark and at night, and I knew some Germans come off the forest road without slowing down, so I needed to be visible. I got my warning triangle (mandatory here in Germany, and now I know why!), propped it open on the road behind me, then reached into my Gallic go-kart and released the hand brake. With the right shoulder on the windshield frame and right hand on the steering wheel I pushed, and pushed. The parking space a hundred meters ahead might as well have been a mile away. It was a slight uphill, and despite the light weight of the open car it felt like I was pushing a Suburban, but I made it there after all. I was sweaty, but my car was off the road now.

I got the warning triangle, came back to the car, and started trying to figure out what went wrong. Inside the car there was a faint smell of an electric burn. Turning the key in the ignition proved fruitless: nothing happened. I checked my fuse box and saw nothing wrong. I popped the hood and noticed a strong smell of electrical burn around the engine bay. My battery was hot, so I quickly disconnected it. With the same cellphone light I looked everywhere around the small 1.6-liter engine, and could not find the culprit. It was dark, it was cold, and I was stuck in a village with every body sleeping: not the best time to start trying to figure out if your car will run again tonight.

I ended up calling a friend of mine who lives nearby. He is single and has no such encumbrance like a !!!error: Indecipherable SUB-paragraph formatting!!! to tell him to not go out at night to help a friend who made the decision to drive a 25 year old French car at night and go stuck. He was there within 10 minutes and gave me a ride home. At least I had my windows closed when the power went out, there is a chance of freezing rain/snow tomorrow, and my electrical windows are dead! Note to self: next time you buy an old French car make sure it has crank up windows.

So I get home almost at 11 pm, Peugeotless, and tell my wife of my adventure , to which she replies "I told you not to buy another piece of shit car". Being that she can't even drive stick shift her opinion on all things automotive get quickly dismissed by my brain. Besides, she likes riding the Pug in the summer when the weather is nicer. Perhaps I should leave the yellow cabrio for summer days only...

Now, to find that electric fault...

duurtlang > Reborn Pyrrhic 01/13/2014 at 18:40

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That's quite the adventure you had there. It could've ended a lot worse.

I don't think these 205s have the name of being unreliable among those who know them. I'd be interested in what went wrong. A short somewhere?

Reborn Pyrrhic > duurtlang 01/13/2014 at 18:45

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Yes, the 205 is better known than the more expensive Pugs. I think perhaps a shunt somewhere. I will be checking it out tomorrow.

yung bramblepelt > Reborn Pyrrhic 01/24/2014 at 09:52

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It's a purdy car. I love small cars.

Reborn Pyrrhic > yung bramblepelt 01/24/2014 at 17:06

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Me too!