Mar 30, 20208 min read

PERFECT TIMING... SERIOUSLY

Boy, do I have a story for you… In case you’re new to my adventure, it’s important that you know I built my beautiful Subaru myself: I pulled out the engine, disassembled it to bare bones, and rebuilt the whole thing with my own choice of parts. My lack of experience at the time would likely have made any expert engine builder out there shudder, but I’m humbled to say that my diligence and determination paid off.

With success in mind, I put my trust into years of piles [and files] of bonafide literature and the distant help of my good friend, Kevin - a.k.a. the Enginerd. After triumphantly building then surviving a few hours on the dyno, my engine had no leaks or failures of any kind, and compression was still spot-on 800 miles later. I even dialed in my new suspension and drove it around SoCal before pounding through three separate track days without incident. While I did take my time and quadruple-check every step along the way, though, one extraordinary incident did occur that will have me thanking my lucky Subaru stars and the car gods forever.

Following the factory manual, I installed a Gates timing belt (not the blue) using new OEM-Japan pulleys. From lining up all the marks to counting all the teeth (I laid the old belt over certain sections for a precise count), I was proud to remove the “grenade pin” from the tensioner and start manually cranking to see that everything still lined up perfectly after 15-20 full rotations.

Once I first got Matches up and running, I babied him for the first month before finally getting him on the dyno - and keep in mind, WE WERE ON THE FREAKING DYNO. 360whp was great for an initial [at my request, “safe”] break-in tune, and I immediately left there with a face that would give the Ermahgerd chick a run for her money, sans pigtails. I then drove it back to my apartment garage since it was closer, and doing so also increased my chances of driving it on the weekdays for further break-in after work.

A couple weeks later, one of the automotive instructors at my college invited myself and a few others to drive our "builds" down for an informal presentation. I was happy to RSVP as two more weeks would remain before my first track day, so it doubled as a good opportunity to have experienced professors (and classmates) look over everything for extra assurance. Excited to be sharing my hard work with everyone the night of, I gently gave Matches a once-over with a microfiber cloth and Meguiar’s Quik Detailer, and once he was sparkling, I drove out and put the DCCD to Sport-# while waiting to turn left at the first traffic light.

First in line, I gassed it once the light changed and got just past the crosswalk before Matches stalled.

It was 5 pm in Southern California, I was stuck sitting in the middle of a busy intersection, and I didn’t know why. I thought for a moment that my worst fear had come true: my build failed and the engine blew up. When frantically turning the key to the start-position, it first struggled to crank. It was erratically off-rhythm, then went completely silent - no more cranks, but the dash and all other functions oddly remained on just as before. To add more confusion, there were no warning lights on the dash or codes thrown from the stall, but my Accessport had reported three consecutive misfires on cylinder 1. When time finally ran out, heavy cross-traffic began merging all around me, but a really nice guy who had stopped where I started ran out and helped me push Matches back behind the crosswalk during his turn, where I remained with the hazards on. (Just to note: the left turn lane was the safest option for parking at this particular location. And thanks again, dude - whoever you are. ♡ )

Mulling over all possible circumstances from the tune, to a lean fuel spike, to electrical, and even considering user error, I was hopelessly avoiding the thought of complete failure. Pausing for a mere couple of minutes, however - which felt more like an eternity at this point - I instinctively moved the DCCD back to standard mode once I saw it was still in Sport-#, and when I tried the key again: vroooom. Matches started right up, and I made the next light. Everything was back to normal, as if nothing unusual ever happened; the engine was running great, and all gauges and readings were normal.

Without much availability for turning around, I warily proceeded through the next few lights, then surrendered and nervously merged onto the jam-packed freeway. Numbers were still good, gauges were still normal, everything was working full-swing, and for the first time in my life, I was actually de-stressed by traffic since I got to take it slow all the way to campus (and stare at my gauges and Accessport more than the road). I was uneasy again when it came time to drive Matches into a vehicle bay, but he started right up, moved, and kept running just fine. I soaked up all the compliments and creative ideas from everyone, and when I later re-entered the freeway after class, I bumped it into Sport-# and glanced as the headlights in my rearview mirror shrunk into oblivion within a few seconds. I have a good build, I thought, so what happened?

Distracting me at work all the next day, I started the car and popped the hood to visually inspect the engine as soon as I got home. Even though I knew everything was in place and obviously working as intended, I got in close and scrutinized nearly every component, which was when I heard a very light ticking noise. Tick, tick, tick - it was steady, as though a metronome set at 60 bpm was placed near the alternator. Unable to pinpoint the source, though, I remembered my parents’ neighbor, Dave - a master tech and industry instructor - had a customized stethoscope that made generic ones look like toys, so I drove Matches 45 miles back to the “build garage” the following Sunday for further investigation.

Upon arrival, I momentarily waited as my dad moved some items in the garage, and I could hear the ticking noise coinciding with a new humming drone as it echoed off the sidewall of the property line. After jacking Matches up and retrieving Dave’s stethoscope, I started the car again and poked around to find both the ticking and humming noises emanating from directly above the crank pulley on the timing cover. I was new to diagnostics - as in, completely novice - so I wasn’t necessarily able to speculate the cause of the noises, but the new humming sound quickly escalating into more of a zipping noise was creeping me out. Turning the car off again, I pulled up Google only to find zero answers (even Kevin couldn't figure it out!), and after another hour or so, Dave popped in to check on me. I informed him of my findings - or, lack thereof, so he took the stethoscope and told me to start it up.

ABOUT DAVE

My parents’ neighbor, Dave, is a life-long mechanic with a pure heart of gold, and whose wife graciously fosters animals. My father said that when he had once gone to knock on their front door, he noticed Dave sprawled out on a bed in the front bedroom, covered with kittens.

Dave is one of a kind. Be like Dave.

Update 24 Aug 2021: Rest in peace, Dave.

He lost the battle to cancer, but still won everyone's hearts.

With the car running, the zipping noise was intensifying, and now more resemblant of a table saw. Shocked, Dave and I looked at each other in confusion and were both immediately drawn to the RH timing cover vibrating vehemently. At light speed, I [hilariously] thought, Is my cam gear coming off?, and after Dave set his hand on it for feedback, he quickly looked at me and motioned kill-it with his hand while yelling, pop-eyed, “Turn it off!”

PERFECT... TIMING...

Grabbing my socket wrench, I removed the RH timing cover to find the belt had been shredded down to the base of the teeth. Perplexed, I just turned the cover over in my hand in a mimed why-how-when-what state and discovered a small bolt lodged into the upper corner of the cover - AT CYLINDER 1 - smothered in belt debris. My jaw was hanging the entire time, and I was miffed as to how a loose bolt wound up in my timing belt. Removing the LH cover revealed more piles of debris, and the potential reality of the situation quickly rushed in.

My heart was slowly exploding as I grabbed my 22mm socket, but when I carefully aligned the crank, everything was miraculously still lined up - not a single tooth skipped timing. I sort of fell forward over the shroud in relief which compelled Dave to ask me if the engine is interference, and once I assured him, we couldn’t help but force ourselves to laugh.

Completely bowled over, he put his hand on my shoulder, leaned in, and in complete awe said, “Girl, you are lucky.”

With my first post-build track day just 10 days away and a full-time job with plenty of overtime scheduled, I resorted to stopping by Subaru after work and picking up an OEM belt. With only the following Sunday to install my track tires, and now a new timing belt, I drove out late Saturday night after work and immediately got to removing the bumper, radiator, alternator belt, crank pulley, and then the center timing cover, which was when I noticed the timing belt guide was loose and missing a bolt on one side.

Not only did I now know where that loose bolt came from, though, when I pushed the guide back against the block on impulse, I also found my ticking noise. Further inspection then revealed that the bolt holding the right side was also loose and beginning to back out. Unfortunately, I had originally misread the factory manual as not recommending liquid gasket on new guide bolts - only “when reuse the bolts,” so I made sure to coat them good this time. Taking no more chances!

I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but it’s safe to say that the bolt had lodged into the belt or timing cover when Matches stalled on the way to class. (Remember those misfires in cylinder 1, where I found the bolt? Eh - maybe it’s related.)

The rip in the belt suggests that the bolt at least took a ride before finally catching on the timing cover, starting the slow shaving process as I drove another hundred freaking miles. Based on the damage, the bolt either fell straight down and was forced through the belt teeth between a gear pulley or cam gear, or it broke through from the top of the belt per a guide pulley. Either way, it looks to have hung on and slowly squeezed through until the momentum and centrifugal forces spit it out enough to catch up top. That would mean I drove 25 miles to my college, ran it while showing it off, then rocketed back onto the freeway the night before driving another 45 miles out to my parents’ garage with a bolt riding around on my timing belt, and it never skipped a single tooth. Talk about PBA… I wanted to laugh like Walter White did in the basement after screaming about Skylar giving his cash away to Ted. ("Crawl Space" - Breaking Bad, AMC)

I originally chose the Gates/Japan belt because it used to be the OEM supply brand, and was supposedly sturdier than Subaru’s current choice, which is now typically Mitsuboshi or Unitta (which is still Gates?), according to a professional reference. (Let me know if you've heard otherwise!) You could physically feel the difference between the two, though, as the OEM Unitta belt felt thinner by contrast, and even Gates's website highlights "higher temperatures, higher speeds, and...[MOAR} power" as their product standard. Plus, Kevin the Enginerd even vouched for it. In other words, and to also explain away the blue racing belt, I didn’t want to have to worry about changing the timing belt that often on my track-only car. (Call me a prude.) To further my point, perhaps if I did have the OEM belt installed when this scenario happened, then, who knows - this story would have possibly ended on a more dire note, and I might have been left devastated by such a minuscule, rookie mistake.

Instead, I made it to my track day, had two more successful runs to follow, and we’re still going strong and heading straight for the competitive arena.

Thank my lucky stars.