Originally intended to document my experience of DeLorean ownership, focus is often radical and strange, boring and obtuse.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

DPI Does Canada

A messy line of stainless cars. Neat-o.

Under threat of thunderstorms I drove the DeLorean to a shop in Oakville where Josh Bengston, owner of DeLorean Performance Industries, was paying our club a visit. It was a long time in the making, but we were finally able to reap the benefits of Josh's expertise.

Approximately 17 DeLoreans showed up for Tech Day 2013 in the Great White North. Josh, a champion of high performance parts for our 30 year old cars, inspected each one and made a list of necessary repairs. The worst was not unexpected; a pair of rotted out frames; Holes, bendy metal, the whole 9 yards.

After a couple of hours of enjoying everyone's company and unusual drinking habits, it was my turn for one of the hoists. I turned the key. My reward? A loud POP! After 20 minutes of complete frustration we pushed my car into the bay. Disheartened by the chance that I'd be towed home, the investigation began.

Under Josh's direction I removed the air cleaner and immediately discovered the problem. And it was pretty shocking. Care to wager a guess? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Injector #2 had blown right out of the engine! Josh had a quick look, bent the clip back and reinserted the irksome injector. The car started instantly. Problem solved!

Up in the air, Josh quickly replaced my torn ball joint boot, leaving me loads of time to clean my frame. It seems stupid, but I'm proud of that part of my car which no one can see. With 115,000 miles, it should be a mess. Instead, well, have a look for yourself. Here. And here. And also here.

At the end of the day, the only thing we wanted more than a shower was dinner. The tradition continued as we treated Josh to some good ol' fashioned poutine. Aside from the usual crowds around our cars (and, strangely, around our table) it was nothing but good times.

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Sunday, September 25, 2011

Ceramic Coated DeLorean Exhaust

Bitchin' NOS exhaust from DPI.

"Should we pull over the DeLorean?" an officer asked his coworkers as I passed the group of them, shielding themselves from the rain. And after a harrowing drive through that nasty storm, I arrived home safely - just in time for my cousin's wedding.

Unfortunately for me, the previous owner did not know how to take care of the DeLorean and fibbed extensively about its condition.

Sadly, mechanics with working knowledge of the Bosch K-Jetronic fuel system are either retired or, in most cases, dead. My voodoo skills aren't up to par yet, so raising them wasn't an option. Zombie mechanics are unreliable anyway, with limbs falling off mid-accumulator job, or eyes oozing out of their sockets into the gas tank. Forget it.

And so Josh was the chosen priest to exorcise the DeLorean's demons. The first gremlin to be eliminated was the fuel distributor, followed by a warm up regulator, a full throttle microswitch and 8,172 gaskets, o-rings and washers. The previous owner bypassed the idle speed ECU when it failed, along with the Lambda system, both of which were restored to original condition.

Josh also replaced the clutch, leaking master and slave cylinders, reservoir, and upgraded the plastic clutch line with the braided stainless steel line. Not everything went as planned and Josh didn't finish some of the work. But he's in demand. I'll take what I can get.

Finally, the ass end of the car received a sweet upgrade. Something I've been planning a long time.

Over the years I've driven a number of DeLoreans with various exhausts. I found anything with headers to be far too sexy for me. Plus it has a bad horsepower to volume ratio: I don't think the extra 7 to 10 hp is worth the extra decibels. I prefer the sweet Euro exhaust note and decided on a completely stock system, but with one bonus. I had it ceramic coated in polished silver.

Ceramic coating the exhaust has a number of benefits. It traps the heat in the system, keeping the engine bay cooler. A cooler bay means cooler intake temperatures with higher oxygen content. And hotter air flows faster out of the exhaust, leading to lower backpressure and better scavenging inside the cylinders. The result is a documented 2% to 3% more power. In my case that conservatively translates to about 2 more hp. Not to mention it's effing gorgeous!

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See what the exhaust looks like from behind.
The driver's side cast iron exhaust manifold with ceramic coating.

Photos open in a new window.

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Monday, September 05, 2011

DeLorean Mini-Resto Underway

Goodbye D! See you soon.

I come from a car family. Growing up my dad owned GTOs, Corvettes, a 442 or two, and was a champion drag racer in the 1960s. Cars were in my blood and I wanted my dream car before my 30th Birthday.

When I bought my DeLorean my intentions were to have fun with it. I wasn't going to stress over it. That changed quickly. As things wore out I replaced them, but often the brand new parts were defective. Over the years I had spent more on shipping and duty than I did on parts. Not too long ago I gave up. And it was the best decision I've made in years.

There are a few vital DeLorean parts which cannot be purchased new any longer. One such part is the fuel distributor. The DeLorean uses the Bosch K-Jetronic constant injection system, like many early 80s exotics like Porsche, Ferrari and Lamborghini. I hate it.

Unfortunately, the rebuilt units I kept installing weren't rebuilt correctly and lasted anywhere from a minute to a few weeks at most. Embarrassing.

My dream car (go ahead and laugh, I'm used to it.) wasn't much fun any more. I gave up and enlisted the help of Josh. You know who I mean. The innards of his brain overflows with performance ideas for the 2.85 liter PRV engine and perfection is the name of the game inside his shop.

And so on a gorgeous mid-August day Kenny and I drove to meet Josh's cohorts, loaded the D onto their trailer, and came home in Ken's D. No, not this one, the regular one.

It would be nice to have a perfect car, and with Josh on the job I know I won't have to wait until my 40th! (Which is years and years away, by the way.)

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