Aladdin's Cave

Except my name is not Aladdin. And I paid for my bounty, not like that crook. Holy Frack did I pay..though not surprising, I am hardly known to be a purveyor of wise decisions. 

Water is also known to be wet. 

So it goes that I had been recently obsessed by the notion of purchasing far too many parts with no particular purpose for them for no particular reason. This notion was given extra impetus when I bought, and subsequently almost immediately sold my beloved BigEnd Roder wheels - despite having taken so long to find them, I was just feeling awash with an all-enveloping, p.i.t.a need to be particularly pedantic for the net benefit of null. Just headache, heartache and fruitcake. 

Regardless, I persisted. scouring the Japanese auction pages frantically and desperately, almost in fear of the stark acknowledgement of having done something incredibly idiotic in selling the Roders. Nothing came up, but as always whenever I venture onto the Auction pages, other things started appealing, and blurring my focus. Not that that is particularly difficult to achieve - wave any manner of treats or brightly coloured objects in front of my face and I'm [brown] butter. Then, a series of precariously opportune events happened, that in isolation meant little, but together gave impetus to the impulse purchase of epic futility. Firstly, I found someone willing to bid on items for me, seeing as my usual go-to was (wisely) avoiding me. I had then received an email from someone that wanted my Roders, and I had exclaimed that I was actually hoping to buy in a set from Japan and could potentially help. Uh-huh..I then also realised that, I had actually a bit of spare monies in my account. Spare in that, it was not doing anything, and rather than invest/save/something vaguely more intellectual than throwing it at inane purchases, I decided it could be thrown. At inane purchases. Then the nail in the coffin. I found a person that worked with sending containers from Japan to anywhere. End of rational thought. 

And it followed, a process of searching, missed bids, successful bids, and nothing really necessary or of any real purpose purchased. All the whilst ignoring "extraneous" costs to those issued thus far via the Paypal button for the bids. As the time passed, so the bounty accumulated. Realisation set in about the direction this situation was going; on a rather grander scale than any previous purchases from Japan, so I attempted to get some others to join in on the purchase. They did not catch - little did they know, much to their benefit. I continued undeterred. The months passed, the bids continued, and the costs piled on, though I denied their existence. I started going to eccentric paths, buying two sets of the same wheel, either to create the ideal set, or because I had found a "better" set after having already bought one. You know, as I am so ably endowed with a stable income. In the meantime, bidding duty transferred from the original Japanese fellow to the importer, as his apparent lack of grasp of English meant I was paying for items I did not request - only my lack of a sense of judgement is allowed to be responsible for such recklessness. Eventually I got bored, and decided it would be time to have everything shipped over. Which is when the real joy of this drawn out process came into play. Despite the export charge increasing by around 50% due to a "miscalculation" of item volume...of around 50%, that was not the issue.

I had grossly underestimated the effect of the actual importation.

Bah. And humbug. 

Once I had collected my heart, from amongst the bricks that found myself in my underwear at receiving the importation invoice, I duly paid my dues. I was tempted not to replace my heart back to its tiny void in my chest. Obviously, one further joy was reserved for me, for the arrival of the items. Having only seen them in photographs in Japan, I had no real grasp of their actual scale. 

Until I saw them piled at the bottom of my driveway returning late a Friday evening. All 439kg of it. Joy. At least the morning after would be suitably "animated", compared to my usual vigorous conscious coma. What it most certainly was not, was enjoyable. At all.

In the slightest.

Ever.

439kg. Of fastidiously over-packaged. Heavy. Assorted rubbish. Which needed to be moved up a very considerate, slippery slope. A kind hearted fox had also decided to lay down its worth in the narrow gap between the parked cars. There was not any spilt milk, but I shall continue crying thank you very much. 

But, in the end. I got my Roders [and 6 other sets of wheels, and a dashboard, and other miscellaneous junk. And a bleak financial future included for free.]. Worth it? HOLY SHART NO (STFU Voice of Reason)

Yayer

Cap Busting

Brap.

Cyclists.

Cannot say I care for them much.

Not really my cup of Joe.

Just Checkin'

Yep, still Baller.

I actually missed the sound of the scraping exhaust and mudguards.

A delightful bit of rake going on too, though any notions of a "Drag Racer" from the stance are profusely inaccurate 

Testify! Cefirius, 40:6 of the Church of Baller

What's this? An update in relatively swift succession of the last one? Something nefarious must be afoot. Drugs? Voodoo magic, ALIENS?!

No, just my old perpetual companion, boredom.

I was bored, and this time instead of staring at clouds and drifting off into a conscious coma, I figured there would be ample opportunity to achieve something. I felt the power, the power to achieve! Praise the Lawd. So. I toiled, and got some minor booboo's, and after a minor aeon, I had done it. I had rectified the Cefiro's former lingering ills.

Wait, its in the garage, whut?

It was getting its Baller back.

So baller, it even needed its own ramp to make its elegant descent back to the ground with the rest of us. Well, attempted elegant descent, as the sound of the grinding exhaust, sills, soft underbelly rather thwarted that notion.

It took far too long to do, and it may be a tad too low, but, its now back to its gangster roots. That, and there is not a chance in hell it ill ever get up the driveway now..

And this is the Baller's back ^_^

Yeayer, Get Crunk, O-KEIIII

A sunny, early-Autumn day brought about plenty of miserable sunshine, replete with hideous moderate temperatures and staid breezes. It was repulsive. It was also burning my right arm, furthering my transformation into a Michael Jackson "Through the ages" representation doll. This disgustingly boring weather spread its effect on me, its intense monotony achieving the unthinkable. Actually convincing me to exert physical labour. A quick phone call, and a desire to get my Crunk on, and early on Saturday morning I ventured down the M25, with a mouthful of disgusting cigar-flavoured unwashed teeth and fittingly greasy - for the greaser look - hair. On arriving, the Cefiro then decided to get its lean on, and enjoy the shade. 

Overwrought as always in my desire to be obscure and cryptic, though being foreign helps, what actually had this boredom motioned me to do? What had caused the Herculean effort of getting me to drive a full 40ish miles to a certain Eunos toting Bristolian's abode when hundreds of previous requests were declined, amidst my busy daily scheduled commitment of breathing? A quick sight above should perhaps make certain sentiments clearly. No, the wheels are not so misaligned that they look detached from the car. 

After what seems like aeons fluttered by, as they achieved no greater status than being wardrobe bling, I had decided to install my Kei Office Coilovers. WHATTT?! Yes Lil' John. At long last. I also needed the money from the sale of the former Apex Coilovers. Mystery uncovered.

Beyond that notion, I also desperately wanted to rid myself of the Apex Coilovers for a while now, which is why the Kei Office Coilovers sparkled their glamour to my other plethora of useless trinkets in the wardrobe. Being the inherent brand-whore that I am, and never settling for less than the questionable value of a renowned product company in the interests of superior R&D methodology and fitness for purpose - especially on a car of the Cefiro's current mission - despite not actually having money, ever, I never bonded with the provided suspension on the Cefiro. Whilst the onset of old age has its ruthless way with me, with the  deafening arthritic racket of my joints and my incessant aimless ranting resonating in my generally empty mind, the Apex Coilovers were not overtly unforgiving on rough surfaces. They were however, rubbish. 

That is all.

Far be it for me to leave it there, the Apex coilovers, for all intents and purposes, were unrefined. Ignoring for now the fact that the left front coilover with its loose locking ring made for an annoying clunking on any indentation on the road, they were generally left wanting on bigger, lower frequency bumps in the road, so in the primary ride. What seemed like a reasonable bound, gave way to a mismatched, overly eager rebound - in all that I could tell from my e-knowledge - giving way to exaggerated vertical motions and a lot of strokes of the suspension to settle. It was rather annoying, an occurrence rather evident in particular on motorways, were certain undulations in the road would have the front of the car bobbing like a lowrider, or a Porsche 911 with its backwards philosophy of weight distribution. This also rocked Sir's head far too much for his liking, and was rather tiring. Too much movement you see. 

And whilst the Kei Office coilovers I had purchased carried an identical 8/6 spring rate, I figured - hoped - that they would fix this slight annoyance, though groundless claims of being made of granite ridiculed my purchase by some. Meh. I learn by doing, and not by taking shamanistic proclamations to heart. I also mostly rue by doing and being proven wrong and having expended money on such. 

So, excuse formulated, intention set, and ready to carry this out. Getting over the slight difficulties of raising the Cefiro in all its gangster lowness, the wheels were off, revealing essentially just 14 bolts to remove in total. Pfft. The front coilover was removed in short order, and similarly replaced. The rear coilover I figured would be even easier, in all of its three holding bolts. I was incorrect to assume this. No amount of torquing, swearing, voodoo rituals and hammering on the one attaching bolt could loosen its grip. Not even with the utilising of half a can of miracle PlusGas could relinquish its hold. Whilst Harry departed for a while, I attempted to re-attack the offending bolt for all of about five seconds before giving up. Resorting to what most Italians would do when faced with such a situation at this time of day, and had lunch. Finishing that, I was rather disappointingly not overwhelmed by a superhuman bout of will and energy as I had expected, and so waited on Harry's return to continue, and entertained myself with some cloud spotting. It did not go well as it was a cloudless day. 

On the eventual return, despite the flood of PlusGas below, the bolt was not for turning. There was just not enough leverage on the breaker bar, and thus my lack of brute force had no effect on the bolt. So, I lifted the rear jack ever so slightly, re-attempted, and eventually, it cracked off. It only took me several hours to figure that notion out. With this in mind, the remaining damper units were swapped out in short order, and I was now suspended by Kei. 

Wheels back on, and, tears. Heartbreak.

What was once a sleek, low slung blob of a car, was now a nose-high, rear squatting, blob of a car. It looked like a ghetto donk. They see me rollin'...

I guess I will survive though, though I would bizarrely miss the gentle sounds of the cars' underbelly being ground away. However, the original purpose of the suspension change was starkly rewarding merely driving around the corner and over the first speed hump. The ride was improved, exceedingly so. It was taut, perhaps more so than the Apex coilovers, though I have no idea what setting the coilovers are currently on, but on returning down the speed hump the car no longer behaved like a crack-addled child on a pogo stick. It was bump, rebound, done. Huh. This is pretty awesome. This was further evident during the ride back, not once finding the mismatch in bound/rebound that would send the car oscillating on the low-frequency motorway undulations, and motions being generally for better controlled. Strangely, I also found the car to "roll" far more effortlessly, though the brakes, rolling assembly et cetera were all but untouched. I also found the steering to be a bit more incisive strangely, with a more direct connection, and a slighter heft, despite the nose-up stance. It could all just be placebo, though the Kei Office coilovers were far larger in diameter, thus perhaps could generally achieve...something. Oddly enough, one unwelcome factor of the Kei Office coilovers also portrayed the differences between it and the Apex units - the latter were astonishingly light, beyond the comparison with the former. Whilst looking at this characteristic superficially, it could be rather telling of the construction, durability and development of the unit itself, the Kei Offices in their short installation time already proving, albeit subjectively and to a generally clueless individual, to be vastly superior.

So I am content. With each drive the coilovers seem to appear that much tauter, but the controlled suspension movements are more than welcome retribution. I will need to have the setup aligned at some point, though on the still current Snow Tyres, the benefits would be rather futile. Now I can get into the garage, for once, or so I believe I can. I will then need to find a C-spanner. And figure out how to get the Cefiro back down when the "aesthetic issue" has been redressed. Plus ca change..

In the words of John the Little, Cefiro can now get Crunk, O-KEEEI. Yeayer

Domo