The saga continues, like a Halloween horror movie sequel or a Star Wars excuse for merchandising spin-off/splinter story. I’ve been relying on this car for my daily get-a-body-where-it-needs-to-go duties which seem to never be less than 100 miles and I am impressed by how good it is. Starts right up, flies down the freeway and stops pretty good. Given how much I had to do to bring it this far, a little thing like the clutch master acting up is no more than an irritation.
Like it supposedly is with people, what’s on the inside matters most. Here we have a rusty grungy exterior and a virginal interior. Baby drank some bad DOT3. When I opened it up the assembly was sticking in some old black gooey fluid that brake cleaner took care of.
The clutch master on these cars is pretty interesting. The seal that pushes the fluid is at the fat end of it, sharp edge pointed in. At the other end is another seal, this one closes off the line to the reservoir so all the fluid goes out to the slave cylinder. A pump of sorts.
Per Laurence of Berkeley’s earlier suggestion I filled the system with fluid, cracked the bleed screw on the slave open, took the car off the jack stands, pumped the pedal a few times and then let it settle. Ten minutes later I was test driving it. Clutch feels like every other Alfa now and the car shifts a lot better.