Itinerant Air-Cooled Back At Drawing Board
Posted: Sat Feb 23, 2019 8:00 pm
NaranjaWesty gave me such a nice reliable trip down through the Weisswurst BillyGoat Kid Mill to Miami, that I knew something was up. When and where is NaranjaWesty going to remind me that I am but a lowly butl . . . ? oh, here, now, Interstate 75 Sarasota in the 82* afternoon in a traffic jam while I am in the left lane through a messy construction zone. Yes, we are coming up to a concrete barrier just a few feet from my left mirror and the engine starts bucking and coughing and it is clutch-in, we need some coast. Not enough to get me past the concrete barrier as it turns out. Stuck in the left lane with already potentially irate motorists behind me, I turn on the flashers and grab the fuel clamp socket, the hose pinch, the magnetic dish, and we are going to clean out the fuel filter in four minutes flat all the way from alight to embark. The hose clamps were glad to see me, the filter was "hello old friend!" I was done in three minutes, and the filter was pretty much "clean" by anybody's standards. Dang. I wanted an easy one. Cuz I deserved IT. Turned on the ignition, went to the AFM, I could hear relays clicking as they should, but I could not discern the sound of the fuel pump over the traffic just inches from my open sliding door. "Frick! I need the gauge to determine if the fuel pump is turning on."
Got the gauge and the little screwdriver .. .. ..
(REMEMBER? I lost the little 7mm bolt in Wyoming with that cop who left just before the thunderstorm?)
https://itinerant-air-cooled.com/viewto ... 15#p221758
.. .. .. to carefully remove the choke cover screw-come-fuel rail test port. As I loosened the screw, I saw fuel begin to fizz out. But then it SPIT. Ha ha! Vapor lock! Stopped loosening the screw, waited until the fizzzz spithp fizzzz spifplfff ffft ffft pfffsssh had subsided, tightened the screw, put away the towel, the gauge, the fuel clamp socket and the hose pinch. Ran the fuel pump ( I knew it was working, there was pressure at the rail) and the car started right up. Drove across five laden lanes of carscarscars minus one butthead in a Chevy pick-up who accelerated to block off my merge, drove onto the right shoulder, passed the pick-up now stopped in the traffic jam, which enraaaaaaaaaged its driver, and daintily motored up the exit ramp like that was my plan . . . because it was. Filled up with ethanol-free fuel to increase the boiling point temperature, promised to not let the tank go below half (the fuel tank quantity is a "cool sink" and I needed more of it to cool off the fuel coming in from the engine return line). And NaranjaWesty was done toying with me and gave me a decent 17.6 mpg at 25-35 mph during the traffic jam.
I was on my way to Panama City to check out an engine for jtauxe, a late model doublecab pick-up with a later 1600 upright engine with all of the tins and the correct air filter even. As I drove down FL-22, I noticed that people were pretty casual with their upkeep around here not to mention oblivious to the most basic of roof maintenance:
Could not see one house-proud home owner trying to show off in the face of very casual neighbors, everybody was in on this "very casual february."
Even the local church was taking A Day of Rest a bit too far:
Then I remembered. This is exactly where Category 4 Hurricane Michael slammed into the Florida panhandle on October 10th with eyewall speeds of 155 mph. I was in Calimesa CA that day, on my way to visit with tommu. The devastation only got worse as I drove toward Mexico Beach.
Can you imagine hearing these trees get cracked in half in a screaming wind outside of your trailer home for hours? My nerves would be shot:
My nerves were shot anyway. Do you think the guy who gave me the address even mentioned that the landscape was blown to smithereens or perhaps a friendly "you might not see any street signs, they're all gone." Nope. Asked for directions seven times in two miles. People were friendly. Why not? They are out of their usual life habit box and work is probably being more tolerant. The electric company guy was expansive.
As I sat across the address I guessed at, this drove up. Can you imagine? Such a plucky little VW all ready to help restore the town?
These are good-driving cars, and I remember a serious three years of driving my uncle's white doublecab at Hill & Vaughn on Los Angeles freeways, often overloaded and begging the brakes to brake.
Since this is a late-model bus, it has the Type 4 engine compartment surround, and a modified engine carrier that bolts up directly to the crankcase and has these little rubber mounts at the ends of the carrier:
Engine uses a tortured-looking airbox with preheater, and the early bay rubber air intake duct to the carburetor and the same buckle and bracket as fuel-injected bus air filters All familiar but different:
What I especially noted was that the tins all lay against and met up with each other flawlessly. This engine has been treated with respect:
Mexican heads. Good condition. This was a "buy" recommendation:
Then I drove back to Pensacola, pulled into the garage, and fell asleep with elbows on the steering wheel spokes. Woke up with a cricked neck, glad to be surrounded by intact trees.
Colin
Got the gauge and the little screwdriver .. .. ..
(REMEMBER? I lost the little 7mm bolt in Wyoming with that cop who left just before the thunderstorm?)
https://itinerant-air-cooled.com/viewto ... 15#p221758
.. .. .. to carefully remove the choke cover screw-come-fuel rail test port. As I loosened the screw, I saw fuel begin to fizz out. But then it SPIT. Ha ha! Vapor lock! Stopped loosening the screw, waited until the fizzzz spithp fizzzz spifplfff ffft ffft pfffsssh had subsided, tightened the screw, put away the towel, the gauge, the fuel clamp socket and the hose pinch. Ran the fuel pump ( I knew it was working, there was pressure at the rail) and the car started right up. Drove across five laden lanes of carscarscars minus one butthead in a Chevy pick-up who accelerated to block off my merge, drove onto the right shoulder, passed the pick-up now stopped in the traffic jam, which enraaaaaaaaaged its driver, and daintily motored up the exit ramp like that was my plan . . . because it was. Filled up with ethanol-free fuel to increase the boiling point temperature, promised to not let the tank go below half (the fuel tank quantity is a "cool sink" and I needed more of it to cool off the fuel coming in from the engine return line). And NaranjaWesty was done toying with me and gave me a decent 17.6 mpg at 25-35 mph during the traffic jam.
I was on my way to Panama City to check out an engine for jtauxe, a late model doublecab pick-up with a later 1600 upright engine with all of the tins and the correct air filter even. As I drove down FL-22, I noticed that people were pretty casual with their upkeep around here not to mention oblivious to the most basic of roof maintenance:
Could not see one house-proud home owner trying to show off in the face of very casual neighbors, everybody was in on this "very casual february."
Even the local church was taking A Day of Rest a bit too far:
Then I remembered. This is exactly where Category 4 Hurricane Michael slammed into the Florida panhandle on October 10th with eyewall speeds of 155 mph. I was in Calimesa CA that day, on my way to visit with tommu. The devastation only got worse as I drove toward Mexico Beach.
Can you imagine hearing these trees get cracked in half in a screaming wind outside of your trailer home for hours? My nerves would be shot:
My nerves were shot anyway. Do you think the guy who gave me the address even mentioned that the landscape was blown to smithereens or perhaps a friendly "you might not see any street signs, they're all gone." Nope. Asked for directions seven times in two miles. People were friendly. Why not? They are out of their usual life habit box and work is probably being more tolerant. The electric company guy was expansive.
As I sat across the address I guessed at, this drove up. Can you imagine? Such a plucky little VW all ready to help restore the town?
These are good-driving cars, and I remember a serious three years of driving my uncle's white doublecab at Hill & Vaughn on Los Angeles freeways, often overloaded and begging the brakes to brake.
Since this is a late-model bus, it has the Type 4 engine compartment surround, and a modified engine carrier that bolts up directly to the crankcase and has these little rubber mounts at the ends of the carrier:
Engine uses a tortured-looking airbox with preheater, and the early bay rubber air intake duct to the carburetor and the same buckle and bracket as fuel-injected bus air filters All familiar but different:
What I especially noted was that the tins all lay against and met up with each other flawlessly. This engine has been treated with respect:
Mexican heads. Good condition. This was a "buy" recommendation:
Then I drove back to Pensacola, pulled into the garage, and fell asleep with elbows on the steering wheel spokes. Woke up with a cricked neck, glad to be surrounded by intact trees.
Colin