More Broken Cars
submitted by Anne via Comments
I am a pretty calm gal. Don’t usually get upset–just try to take things in my stride as they used to say.
HOWEVER, when DH and I met (1981) he was driving a 1974 or 1975 two door Saab. We had that car until 1988. Gads I hated that car–no power steering, an absence of comfort that would have made a Swedish Lutheran pastor feel noble!
We moved to Seattle, and that thing began to not like to start. One day right down there on the main street that goes by the Ballard Locks, “we” (the car and I) had a nervous breakdown. I stopped at a red light–it just stopped. In the back seat was one of those rubber headed mallets. I popped the hood and began pounding on everything–anything–whatever I could reach!
Fortunately (or not), I was stalled in front of the woodworking shop, and the men there saw what was going on. One of them came out to explain that I was not using the appropriate strategy for restarting the car. He was very nice, and I cooled off a little. He didn’t get too close until I put the mallet down! Cars were honking as they had to pull around me and go into the oncoming traffic, just to proceed with their own lives! He got it started, and I jumped in and held the gas down while he shut the lid. DH finally got rid of that socialist piece of crap!
We had it for the two years before when we lived in West Texas. Everytime we left town and headed toward Montana we could only get as far as Ft. Sumner New Mexico before it just shut down. It would eat that west Texas dust and fill up that piece of equipment that you only access by taking all the luggage out of the trunk. There was a great Navajo kid who worked at the only gas station in that town. He got so used to us he was like family!
Oh, can’t forget to tell you that after we got rid of all the Texas dust we would continue our drive north to Montana, and every time we hit Casper we had to spend the night in the cheapest possible motel so DH could take something else apart, and clean it out, and put it back together.
One year on the way home for Christmas we parked in a covered parking lot at a hotel in Billings. Had two cases of Texas Red Grapefruit packed on the back seat for family Christmas presents. The temperature dropped down to -30 something that night. When we finally got home to Missoula the next day the grapefruit in the back seat were frozen solid ! Did I tell you the heater and the thing (defroster) that is supposed to keep the windows clear were not working together? Can you imagine how cold it got in that car!
Now maybe you understand why I finally broke down and took the rubber mallet to the carburetor, or the engine block, or whatever the H*LL else I could reach that day in Seattle! 🙂
Pray for us!
Woodworking shop near the Ballard Locks. Hey, I know that place!
1962 Corvair Spyder
(My first car)
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This is my reply to GrayDog
My dad bought this car for me in 1971 when I was 16 for $300 and I paid him back at $50 a week. A year later I traded it in for a 1966 Mustang HiPo convertible and I paid $1000 for it of my own money from working in concrete construction.
If you look at the attached pik you’ll get an idea of what I am going to write.
The Corvair drivetrain is set up like this, from front to rear – transmission, rear end-transaxle, engine. The transmission is connected to the partial frame at the front with 2 motor mounts. The transaxle is supported by the suspension. The engine is supported with just ONE motor mount at the very rear in the middle.
If you look at the attached pik there is a silver circle “thing” right in the middle at the very rear. That is the fuel pump (diaphram type, center vertical plunger, rides on lobes on the cam) and is important as you will see.
Directly under the fuel pump is the single motor mount. The mount is sort of like a fancy angle iron with a hole drilled through it. That angle iron matches with another angle iron mounted on the rear most part of the frame with a nut welded to it. Now this is what I consider a design flaw. The 9/16″ bolt that connects the 2 angle irons together is inserted from below and held in place by a cotter pin.
My dad was an airplane mechanic (C119 flying boxcar) in the air force in Japan in the early 50’s and one of the many things he told me was that all bolts were inserted from above because if the nut falls off the bottom the bolt will remain in the hole doing it’s job. Corvair apparently did not have air force airplane mechanics in their design line up.
At 16 I was very damaging to anything with an engine and this Corvair got a fair share of my abuse. And I spent a lot of time fixing on it. Stuff like changing out clutch discs and pressure plates and throw out bearings, replacing sheared off bolts on the ring gear in the transaxle, valve jobs on the heads, replacing cylinder sleeves, you know, routine stuff for a young dood with high detergent 30w running though his veins. lol
That drive train spent as much time on the driveway as it did in the car. Well, apparently, when I had last had the engine out, upon putting it back together I had neglected to reinstall the cotter pin that kept the motor mount connected to the car. Vibration rotated the bolt, and down it fell on the road with the engine following it.
Are you still with me?
I walked down the road and luckily found that bolt.
Note the spare tire. Under it is a bumper jack – remember them things? I laid the tire at the rear of the car, and using it as a fulcrum, I used the shaft of the bumper jack to lift the engine up and inline with the motor mount. Not as easy as it might seem.
An engine is heavy, hundreds of pounds and at that time I was maybe 150 lbs. I had to stand on that jack to get the needed leverage. I also grabbed a large tree branch laying along the rural road to act as a spacer while lifting the engine. It was a balancing act. 1 foot on the jack, lift the engine, scoot the branch with my other foot. Rinse, repeat, inching that engine into position. I got that bolt back in there but could only hand tighten it and that wouldn’t do. I had a pocket knife so I cut the horn wire and used it to make a “cotter pin” to keep that bolt from falling out again.
Keep in mind this was in the summer of 1971 in southwest FL and it was a hot as a half ****ed fox. I was sweaty and hot and thirsty and miserable and 30 miles from home.
I jumped in and cranked the key but it would not start. Looking at the engine again I noticed something odd about that fuel pump. It was broken loose from the block. WTF???? When that engine dropped down to the ground that fuel pump hit the motor mount on the way down and broke off at the shaft. JFC!!!
After pondering this new dilema for a few mins I came up with an idea. I cut some more horn wire. I wedged one end of that bumper jack under the spare tire bracket, across the top of that fuel pump, and while pushing the pump down hard into the block I wired the other end of the jack to the battery bracket. What a mess.
But.
It worked!!!
I cranked it a couple times, pulled the manual choke, and violin! it started. And ran fine!
When I got home no one else was there so I stole one of my Dad’s Schlitz brews and went out on the back porch and lit me up a B52 bomber and zoned out. LOL
Just one of thousand of adventures of a yound dood with what would now be called over the top ADHD and endlesss curiosity and just enough retardedry to be almost dangerous.
What is a B52 bomber?
particulated vegetation wrapped tightly in thin rice paper
Wow ghost! That was way beyond my expectations and most excellent! Thank you! Those flying box cars used to float overhead in loose formations and almost close enough to touch when I was a little boy living in central New York state. Watching them ignited a lifelong interest in aviation and an eventual private pilot’s license. Small small world.
1961 Corvair. They used to roll over on their own! Easy peasy!
I bet every one of us has a good car story to tell. This was a great one!
Enjoyed your story, Anne. At least you got that much out of that miserable four-wheeled dust-eater.