Third ones the charm...

Alternators hated me last Friday.

On the way to work, I started hearing this high pitched squeal, much like you hear from a television, but louder. I glance across the gauge panel and see the voltage gauge pegged at 18 volts. Ooops. The regulator in the alternator has failed, and the alternator is stuck on full charge. This isn't going to end well.

Then the noise stops, and the needle on the gauge sinks to 13. Battery voltage. The alternator has cooked itself.

Then the smell began. Burning rubber. The alternator seized. Then the belt jumped the pulley. thumpthumpthump.

I managed to make it to the NAPA on Bishop Lane. Popped the hood and whoah. The belt was wrapped around the fan, and the alternator was still glowing red. Ouch. I went inside and bought an alternator. After the burned one cooled enough, I pulled it off the car and took it inside. The NAPA guys swapped the pulley, I put the alternator on my car, and off I went.

Thirteen hours go by, and I'm almost back home after a soccer game. It was a depressing game. We lost 3-1. Belt squeal, dim lights, 10 volts on the gauge. Damnit. Lost another. Got it home, popped the hood, and the plastic fan on the alternator had melted. Once I got the alternator off the car, it was obvious what had happened. A spacer was missing behind the fan when the NAPA guy zipped the pulley on with his impact. The fan was pressed against the housing, and as it spun, it heated up, melted, sagged until it caught a bolt, and then stopped. The mainshaft of the alternator kept turning, and the shaft cut through that fan like a dremel through soft plastic, until it too, heated up and failed.

It's now Monday. Alternator #3 is on the car, with the proper pulley and fan. Lets all cross our fingers.