How A Hail Mary Fix Kept Our 375,000 Mile New York City Taxi Cab’s People-Hauling Dreams Alive

My wife was 7.5 months pregnant with our first child, but I had to leave her for a week because of important business on the east coast: a 375,000 mile former New York City taxi cab was sitting at Jason’s house in dire straits, on the verge of death. The $800 automotive veteran had endured some of the hardest miles ever put on a machine, so it wasn’t a huge surprise that when we took it to a Nissan dealer we received a huge list of ailments that we all feared might send the mighty “Taxi of Tomorrow” to the great junkyard in the sky. But I couldn’t let that happen without a fight. So eastward I flew.

Lured by the iconic machine’s hard-working and honest soul, we had purchased the Nissan NV200 New York City from Copart sight unseen. And given how many miles were on it and how little we’d paid, we hadn’t expected much.

We were delighted to find that, actually, the van seemed complete, and the body was surprisingly rust-free. What we were not delighted to find was that the NV200 had been put out of commission for some very, very good reasons — ones that might mean we wasted $800.

But, as the resurrector of far, far worse machines, I maintained hope as I flew over America’s heartland, with my junkyard travel-toolset under me in the cargo hold.

Things Didn’t Look Promising When I Arrived

The good news was that, even though it was ice cold in Chapel Hill upon my arrival, Jason had towed the van into his friend Andy’s shop, which was warm and huge and filled with great tools.

The bad news is that the van remained a steaming heap, as Jason shows in his intro walkaround below:

 

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As the dealership inspection report had outlined, the van’s timing chain cover had a crack in it, and the resulting oil leak was severe; the engine and transmission oil pans were extremely dented and needed to be replaced; the front catalytic converter was gone; the steering rack had cracked off the subframe; the front left tie rod was bent (clearly there had been an impact that had bent the wheel — which explains the steelie on the front left — and the bent tie rod and broken the steering rack mount); there was damage at the back from our shipper having rolled the car into a tree; the interior was hideously filthy (there was literally a biohazard sticker on the inside of the windshield); and I could go on and on.

This taxi actually looked like it had 375,000 miles on it. Yikes!:

Our beloved Stephen Walter Gossin, who had been the first to take ownership of the car after our initial purchase, had gotten a new battery in and managed to coax the motor into firing, briefly, but he had to shut it down due to the leak. So we didn’t really know if the motor had any life left; we were told that fixing the leak would be challenging, with Stephen saying the crankshaft damper bolt was stuck.

So upon my arrival, after Jason gave me the initial rather daunting tour (see above), I set about seeing if the two of us could figure out how to keep the oil in the 375,000-mile 2.0-liter inline-four’s crankcase.

I’d purchased a new timing cover on eBay, but before bothering to install it — which would require removing an engine mount, jacking up the motor, undoing the entire accessory drive, and just generally enduring wrenching misery — I figured Jason and I would see about some kind of temporary fix just to test the motor. If the rod/main bearings were toast or if there was no compression in one or multiple cylinders, there’d be no reason going on with this project.

So we put the tired old taxi up on Jason’s friend Andy’s lift, zipped off the passenger’s side front wheel, removed the wheel liner, and boom: I had perfect access to the right side of the engine, including that dastardly crankshaft bolt that had bested our colleague Stephen Walter Gossin.

Luckily, because we were in a shop and not a parking lot like Stephen was, Andy had an air compressor and a ridiculously powerful impact gun, which removed that bolt in a second. I then used a rented puller tool and removed the damper.

It was then that Stephen’s diagnosis — which disagreed with the Nissan dealership’s — flashed into my brain. Stephen believed that, though the timing cover was cracked, the primary cause of the Exxon Valdez-ing wasn’t the crack but rather the seal. And looking at the timing cover with the damper off, it was clear that indeed, there was quite a lot of oil that had clearly been leaking out of that seal.

So I hammered a new seal in, but only after Jason had the pleasure of doing something he’d long wanted to do to a car: perform a nice, janky JB Weld fix on a major engine component. Behold this timing cover “repair”:

I reinstalled the harmonic balancer, torqued the crankshaft bolt on, slipped on the serpentine belt, and then Jason and filled the van with as much oil as we needed to get a reading on the dipstick.

[Editor’s Note: That JB Weld fix was weirdly satisfying. – JT]

To our delight, the repair was holding the oil in! So this meant we could crank up the motor to see if it had any life left it. Jason and I spent far too much time trying to jumpstart the car with its existing old battery, but eventually we heard the car-gods themselves roar from a Nissan taxi’s headers:

ROAR!

RUMBLERUMBLERUMBLERUMBLE, the anemic 131 horsepower four-cylinder engine screamed inside the warm Chapel Hill, NC garage protecting us from freezing temperatures.

Jason leaned into the throttle a bit, and the volume rose; the lack of an exhaust made the cab sound like a motorcycle, but one thing was for sure: this 375,000 mile motor — against all odds — sounded healthy. There was no bearing noise, there was no engine knock, there was no smoke coming out of the exhaust manifold; at least based on this first firing, it appeared that this tired old van at minimum had an engine with potential. And that was a huge win for us.

Our very first drive was a bit rough. We spent far too much time trying to limp along the battery that had come with the van, despite me having learned years ago: When in doubt, swap the battery out. A bad battery causes so many complications that often yield misdiagnoses.

In this case, the cab refused to rev in drive. With the engine idling, Jason hit the gas to move forward, and the engine just refused to respond.

After contemplating all sorts of potential issues, we charged the battery and that fixed it; Jason and I took the van around the block, only to learn: The van is incredible!

Not only did the motor seem to be firing on all four cylinders, but the CVT transmission “shifted” great, and the intercom system allowing the driver to talk with the passengers via a speaker worked! Sure, the van was painfully slow, and the lack of an exhaust was probably filling the cabin with carbon monoxide — between that, lack of sleep, and all the mold from the windows having been down for months it was clear Jason and I were in some kind of loopy daze.

But we were excited, because we know that, against all odds, this 375,000 mile van project was actually going to be able to move forward:

Phase 2: Let’s Get This Thing Running And Driving, Reliably

The first thing Jason and I wanted to do was install the catalytic converter that I had purchased for far, far to cheap on eBay:

Can someone please explain how the heck I bought a catalytic converter for 26 bucks? How does that make any sense?

Jason and I had our misgivings about that exhaust component, and we were also confused as to why there was a random hole in it. We figured maybe it was supposed to be the bung for the O2 sensor, so we paid an exhaust shop $100 to weld in a nut that fit our O2 sensor, only for us to realize that, actually, there was no O2 sensor meant for that location and we’d just wasted a Benjamin!

We installed the exhaust and just kept the unhooked O2 sensor threaded in to fill the hole; we were thrilled to see how much this absurdly-cheap “catalytic converter” quieted down the engine. In fact, the motor was so quiet now that we could hear a major AC compressor bearing issue:

The next thing we did was install a fresh Walmart battery, and this allowed us to go on an extended test drive with a rear passenger — specifically, Andy, who was lending us his shop.

What’s That Smell?

This extended drive wasn’t great. While we were happy to see that most of the taxi lights functioned, the van drove terribly. The tires had huge bubbles in them; the suspension up front was clearly completely toast, clunking like mad as we hit even the slightest bump; and the alignment was way off, with the steering wheel at a 45 degree angle going straight. But the biggest issue was the smell.

I don’t know what was in that “catalytic converter” I’d purchased, but whatever was in it burned off into the most horrible smell ever — one that Jason, Andy and I are convinced probably reduced each of our lifespans by at least 5 years. It was horrific:

Still, in the context of an $800 375,000 mile minivan, this all still felt like we were on the path to victory. Sure, the van’s AC compressor bearing was howling, sure the engine smelled like death, sure the suspension and tires were completely shot, and sure the interior was a HAZMAT zone, but this New York City taxi wasn’t even supposed to be alive anymore. And yet it was. We were thrilled.

Day after day, Jason and I kept whittling away on the van. We swapped both oil pans with dirt-cheap ones we found online, changing the transmission filter while we were at it:

The fluids and innards actually looked quite clean.

The windshield wiper transmission had disconnected, so we took that apart and got the wipers back up to snuff:

Jason tried his hand at fixing the electric windows that had allowed nature to pretty much take over the van, making it look like a prop from The Last of Us, but sadly, we couldn’t figure out the issue.

Jason and I knew that the biggest problem with the van at this point was the tires, which had huge bubbles in them and were generally just shot. The problem was that the factory 185/60R15 tires were just too expensive, and we couldn’t find a good used set nearby.

Luckily, I found that members of the NV200 internet forum were using 185/65R15s — so, slightly taller rubber. And we found that size for pennies at the nearby Discount Tire:

Unfortunately, Discount Tire refused to sell us the tires, not because they’re the wrong size for our van, but because they have the wrong load rating. Was I concerned given that our van was fairly small and we weren’t going to load it up with anything heavy? No, but Discount Tire was.

Jason walked back into the store and tried convincing the the clerk that we were actually buying the tires for a Nissan Versa, and that I had mixed up the cars in our fleet. Because I’m a fool. But then when we brought our wheels in, the service technician noticed they had the wrong lug nut pattern for a Versa. Jason then had to admit to his lie; he tells me he was deeply embarrassed.

[Editor’s Note: I really was caught in a lie here, and, sure, it was embarrassing, but I fessed up to the subterfuge, and apologized to the Discount Tire people, but fundamentally, I’m not ashamed. Just sell me whatever tires I want, dammit! You’re not the boss of me! Let me go to hell my own way, on my own rubber! – JT]

I have to hand it to the Discount Tire guys, though: They ended up finding us an alternative dirt-cheap tire that was the right load rating — I think it was $65 apiece. Here’s Jason — the scoundrel — after being caught in his fib:

The new tires ended up being a game-changer. Between them, the exhaust pipe, and the oil leak repair, this van was now quieter and smoother than we’d expected. But of course, that didn’t mean everything went great from there. During out test drive to feel out the new tires, Jason and I ended up stranded, twice. First, we noticed the car doing a lot of bouncing, and we heard some grinding from one of the wheels; I stepped out to find the lug nuts finger-loose. In fact, they were so loose that at one point Jason had to shut the van down completely because if he moved a single inch, the wheel was going to fall off.

I had to walk a half mile back to the shop to get a wrench, only to find that the van had stalled and would not fire up again. So we ditched the taxi on the side of the road so we could give its battery a bit of a charge:

Eventually, we got the taxi back, though it was clear to us that we’d just witnessed an alternator malfunction. So now we had two items on the accessory drive that were toast: The AC compressor and the alternator. This was a problem, because these parts were not cheap.

At this point, we had a van with new tires, a quiet-ish motor (the AC grind wasn’t ideal) that didn’t leak oil, wipers that worked, and all lights functioning correctly (Jason and I had to swap out a few bulbs). No, the alternator didn’t appear to function, and the struts were still toast, but with a fresh battery, we figured we could get the van a few miles to a car show we had set up with readers the following morning. So, with a freshly charged battery in the engine bay, Jason hopped behind the wheel on Saturday morning, and I tailed him to see how the van looked. It was glorious:

And the machine was a hit at the car show:

Still Lots To Fix, So Little Time

My week in Chapel Hill was coming to a close, and though we’d gotten the van on the road for the first time in who knows how long, the reality was that there were still some major repairs needed, and we didn’t have the parts.

I already mentioned the alternator and AC compressor, which we could technically have purchased from Advance Auto Parts or eBay, but the truth is: They were too pricey. We can’t pay $800 for a van and then $500 for two accessories, just on principle!

My bigger concern, though, was the steering rack, which isn’t really a part you can get same-day from a car-parts store. So Jason and I had to get creative. I hopped onto my go-to used car site, car-parts.com, and started calling all the nearby salvage yards. After running into far too many yards that either couldn’t get me the steering rack the next day, or that charged too much, I found one with an alternator and AC compressor, and I found another yard nearby in Siler City, NC that one that claimed to have a steering rack.

So we got up bright and early and snagged an alternator and a Nissan Altima compressor (which was mostly the same, minus the fittings), and then — to our amazement — we stopped by Marsh Auto Parts, who did indeed have a perfect-condition steering rack. In fact, they had an entire parts NV200, so we asked for the power window switches while we were there — just in case those were the problem with our taxi’s window situation.

Now approaching day six of my six-day trip, we drove back to Andy’s garage and started dismantling the accessory drive, which wasn’t so hard. The AC pulley was right there, and though the alternator was a bit higher, removing it wasn’t hard, either.

But the subframe — which we had to drop in order to replace the steering rack — was tough.

Only a few bolts held the subframe to the van’s unibody, but the control arms and steering rack were bolted to the knuckles. So we disassembled all this:

After a few hours of suspension dismantling and subframe unbolting, Jason and I lowered the K-member with a floor jack:

This revealed the engine and transaxle, just floating — being held by the upper engine mounts:

And here’s the subframe, with its cracked steering rack housing and bent tie rod:

Jason and I swapped our junkyard steering rack into place, and bench-pressed the whole subframe assembly back up against the car, at which point I impact-wrenched the four massive bolts holding the K-member to the unibody:

Getting the steering column’s intermediate shaft to line up with the steering input in the rack was horrible. I don’t have any pictures or video of that process, but it took over an hour of me just hammering that I-shaft onto the rack’s input. It was rough, but eventually it was done, and we moved onto the front struts, which were, of course, rusted into place at the strut tower:

A handy dandy cutoff wheel took care of those strut bolts in short order, and before you knew it, the struts were out and those wheel housings looked empty save for the CV axles that I didn’t want to yank out of the transaxle (since I didn’t want to have to replace the already fresh fluid).

Here are the new struts, which we snagged for cheap (but not that cheap — still over $100 apiece) from Advance Auto Parts:

With new struts in place, a new steering rack, a new exhaust, a new alternator, fresh engine oil and transmission fluid, a new AC compressor, new brake pads (since we were there anyway), and new bulbs, we fired the van up to discover that it was, truly, transformed.

The engine was quiet! The ride was massively improved from both the tires and the struts! The alignment was better. And, to our surprise, when we installed those junkyard window switches, the windows started functioning!

This was a whole different vehicle than I’d first seen six days prior. And though, unfortunately, the front suspension kit that I’d ordered didn’t show up on time, and I do think the inner and outer tie rods, sway bar link, and lower control arms could stand to be replaced, overall this 375,000 mile former New York City taxi cab is officially back in business.

Once A Hopeless Vehicle Destined For The Scrapyard, The Van Now Lives

Jason and I took one final drive before I flew back to LA, and even though we were dead tired from six straight days of wrenching, and even though we were still breathing in all sorts of horrible mold and bacteria, we couldn’t help but to be excited.

We’d taken a vehicle that was truly destined for the junkyard — an insanely high-mileage van with all sorts of problems and no sort of marketplace value — and gotten it roadworthy again. The question now is whether it will be able to handle the grueling challenge we’ll put it through next. I believe in this little yellow underdog. I believe. I believe.

All Images from author unless otherwise stated