Rob Marshall gets wet while fixing our 2005 Hyundai Coupé.
Since the CM ‘Banger’ Chrysler PT Cruiser departed Chez Marshall for a new temporary home with our editor, Rob Hawkins handed over his rather racier 2005 Hyundai Coupé, after completing our July 2019 issue’s front cover photoshoot. Representing a time when the Korean concern was starting to get its act together and build cars that were a little more than barely acceptable,
I was looking forward to the drive home. Indeed, the Coupé still looks handsome today; it drives well too, although I agree with Herr Hawkins that its 1400kg bulk deprives it of the nimbleness that its handsome lines promise. It is not that quick either. Yet, modest progress can be wrung out of the mildly-rorty 2.0-litre engine via the excellently slick gearbox.
Grilling the Gremlins
Possibly because I run a Volvo 480ES and two Citroën C5s, neither of which is renowned for reliable electrics, I was seen as the ideal custodian of the Coupé over the summer. Rob Hawkins warned of strange electrical goings-on right from the start, however. These included a particularly vulgar aftermarket CD stereo that kept defaulting itself to
Radio One at full volume every time the engine was started. On the outside, the hazard lights activated whenever the passenger door was opened, a situation that matured to an alarm that likes the sound of its own voice (often in the middle of the night) and the immobiliser developing complete amnesia and ‘forgetting’ the remote fob.
Before I ‘solved’ all of these problems (by ignoring them and handing the keys
with the now-useless fob to Mrs M), I had to address the more serious issues, such as a slow puncture on the nearside front wheel and the tendency to pull slightly to the left. I thought that these problems were related and would be solved by restoring the correct tyre pressures.
I was wrong. Both front tyres turned out to be close to their legal limits and were replaced by a pair of new Falken ZE310S. Usefully, the fitting garage stated that they would provide a free four-wheel geometry check, which revealed that both the front and rear suspension were seriously out of alignment and bringing everything back within tolerance was chargeable. It was £200 well spent; with its new tyres not having to fight against the maladjusted suspension, the car feels noticeably more stable.
Over for Rover
With the Hyundai seemingly behaving itself, Mrs M’s Citroën C5 was relieved of its usual commuting/school run duties – but, before I could attend to its needs, a friend asked if he could slip over to my place for a spot of pre-mot checking on his 2002 Rover 45. The main task that we did together was to cure an intermittent misfire and extinguish the engine management warning lamp. A spark plug tube, full of oil, was identified as the culprit and the car was submitted to the tester, who returned it promptly with a failure list so damning that it had a continuation sheet. With most issues relating to underbody corrosion, it was decided that the Rover should be stripped of any worthwhile easy-to-store spares and booked for a date with the crusher.
There is clearly a rule in the cosmos that the heavens must open every time
that I visit a scrapyard. This was in
June 2019, when, in my particular area of Shropshire, biblical rainfall did not letup for virtually the entire month. Sure enough, stripping a dead Rover during a monsoon is unpleasant enough but having to fix a car is even worse. Barely two hours into our sodden car-breaking activities, my phone rang:
“The Hyundai’s broken down, can you come and get us?” came the anxious and slightly angry plea on the answerphone.
We jumped into the C5 (thanking myself mentally that I had not started work on it yet, so I did not have another immobile heap littering the drive) and dashed to the school car park, 12 miles away, where the forlorn Hyundai was waiting. After Mrs M, with toddler in tow, escaped in the Citroën, I poked around the Coupé, trying to look intelligent in front of my mate, as if I had a clue about the cure. The symptoms were simple. Neither spark, fault codes nor fuel pressure were present; the engine was happy to churn away merrily on its starter motor, without showing any interest in firing. Exasperated, I disconnected the battery for a few minutes, the result of which was that the engine fired-up immediately on reconnection. Our journey home, back to the Rover, revealed that the speedometer was working
spasmodically, a problem that had been reported by my other-half previously, but (another) one that I had chosen to ignore.
Once home, with a Tomtom replacing the speedometer, my mate continued to pick at his Rover’s carcass, while I started to rip the Hyundai’s dashboard apart to access the body control computer in the hunt for water ingress. After finding none, I rang the expert on these models, Ross Heath from Tiburon Automotive, who advised me to look closer. Sure enough, the computer’s corroded electrical connectors suggest that the body control computer is responsible for the possessed Hyundai but, by the time the discovery was made, my mate had finished dismantling the Rover and was keen to get to the scrappies, before they shut for the day.
With its vital roadworthy parts fixed on loosely (including door mirrors, battery, fuel cap and private numberplates), the eight-mile trip to the breakers was fairly uneventful, save for a few more gauges in the Hyundai deciding to go on strike. While negotiations were made on the scrap value (£70), I had one final scavenge around the 45 to liberate the last few bits, before it was depolluted and crushed. I have to admit, I was tempted to heave the Hyundai there – but I hate walking in the rain!