Itinerant Air-Cooled Idle Bus Theory
Posted: Mon Mar 04, 2019 7:02 am
It is an itinerant theory, this idyllic iteration of ideal idles of buses across this land, but we had no idle this time, I'll tell you that.
We left off that I was back at the drawing board in my last post, and I was, after our lovely heart-warming Mauling in Miami. Then I got a phone call from JR and Kit of Idle Bus Theory fame. Sunshine was not feeling well, little bucks and whatnot. After a couple of subsequent calls working through diagnostic steps, we came to the realization that the situation was not resolving. Unbeknownst to JR, he uttered the exact secret phrase that Awoke The Crazy in me and tore me away from the drawing board. Here is the phrase:
"I think we can take it to a mechanic near here."
"Not happening," said I.
We agreed to meet up at a halfway point so long as Sunshine was able to push herself along without too much of a problem. I really needed Sunshine to limp a little further so I could make it just a three-day interruption from the drawing board. Within hours, I roused NaranjaWesty, "road trip! wake up! here, I'll check your oil, OK, let's go!" and off onto I-10 went we, I and NaranjaWesty. A couple of phone stops to continue the diagnostics with JR and Kit as Sunshine faltered, and we could see that our agreed-upon rendezvous was becoming less likely. I was keeping an eye on the weather too, as a system that promised to douse us was moving in from the west. Then, in the evening, I get a text, "we're hosed". The accelerator cable had snapped, and JR had had to do a replacement "in the mud" as he put it, and the engine was just about refusing to start.
I know this moment. After all of the time sweat and expense in Miami barely a week ago, this situation just had to bleed anyone's enthusiasm down to a sodden hopelessness. Rain was beginning to pelt NaranjaWesty as I drove east, and I was getting petulant at the thought of trouble-shooting this mystery in the rain somewhere or another. So I called Jivermo to get the number to the Weisswurst Pig Goat Tow Ford Rooster Sprinter Jeep VW Diesel Emporium. Jivermo texted me the number and the proprietor/farmer/savior picked up on the second ring.
"We have a traveling couple that needs our help."
I arrived (late) the next morning to find our traveling couple airing out the discouragement of the prior day.
They had gotten a late night tow to the farm. Weisswurst had been the model of late night hospitality, and I had been the model of Late Next Morning Delayed Departure and Where Am I Anyway, somewhere up Route 90/19. That was a fine fine breakfast with fine coffee to begin our trouble-shooting day with some fine people:
Hello, Dottie. That is a fine kid:
Now look at the below photograph. It is the very next photograph I took. See? Night time. Hours upon hours later. There was rain. Oh, there was trouble-shooting.
There was a first-step valve adjustment, there was a "pull the spark plugs and clean and gap them", there was a critical compression test (115/120/120/115 ? did I get that right?), there were electrical tests, there were moments of wild panic within (clenched teeth furious whisper > "you HAVE to start")("pleeeeeze"), and we even did a NaranjaWesty distributor transplant that seems a little excessive in retrospect, but I was all over their 12 year-old Pertronix being the cause of a hot coil and an odd mis-grounding of the fuel injectors. I talked too much. I always do. I create theory stories, JR, I create idle theories of why the engine won't idle and how these parts interact to meet the symptoms that we can see and smell and feel. Then, when the engine finally resuscitates, I have to test my stories against reality. And JR, after a full day of wandering with me through muddled plots and failed takes and dropped lines, joined me in a late-hour test of our testing. So we did put Sunshine's Pertronix distributor back in the engine, and it ran FINE on our umteenth test drive through the neighborhood.
Thus, all of this, this whoOole SAGA, had to be laid at the feet of
a) a coil
b) a temp sensor 2
A) Lousy coil. Spark would break down when the coil got hot. Coil got hot because of odd internal resistance from melted internal windings? I don't know.
B) Temp sensor 2 we had to replace because of known intermittent false signals and it was not secure due to the upper cylinder cover tin not having a wide enough space around the sensor hole. It was seated only on a crescent of tin. We dremeled the tin around the sensor hole and the new sensor is fully seated and contacting only the head aluminum.
But WAIT! I was displeased on the victory test drive (oh NOOoooo!)
"I am NOT going back to Pensacola tonight!" No way, in fact. The steering was abhorrent, it was repugnant, it was sloppy and undisciplined and vague and the column was not even attached the floor!
I'M NOT DONE. The headlamps, the headlamps, the headlamps were utterly wall-eyed.
Weisswurst, ever the most gracious farmer host landlord goat herder hospitality director, offered me a camp site at the house down the road with a real working warm shower. I gratefully accepted, something I rarely do.
Next morning, I am driving back to the Farm/VW Urgent Care Clinic, when I see something I have never seen before and probably never will see ever again, it is in the pantheon of Random Acts of Kindness:
Oh yes, Weisswurst Farms offers On The Fly Drive-By Coffee:
This extra day was devoted to MY issues with Sunshine. I haven't had the time to assess this road warrior princess since I first met her, so distracted have been we by emergencies ...
1. Disassembled and reassembled the headlamps so they can be adjusted and aim straight.
2. Replaced drag link AND center pin bushings AND secured steering column AND put oil in the steering box AND adjusted the steering box AND adjusted the rear brakes:
Then, we took a breath:
They say joy is infectious:
Thank-you thank-you Weisswurst and Ashraper for your hospitality and coffee and farm-fresh omelette-with-avocado, and thank-youse, JR and Kit, for muddling through the Great Wandering Diagnosis with graceful affirmation:
NaranjaWesty hit 97,000 miles 3 miles from the driveway when the alternator issued forth such a racket of banging and clacking . . . back to the drawing board.
Colin
We left off that I was back at the drawing board in my last post, and I was, after our lovely heart-warming Mauling in Miami. Then I got a phone call from JR and Kit of Idle Bus Theory fame. Sunshine was not feeling well, little bucks and whatnot. After a couple of subsequent calls working through diagnostic steps, we came to the realization that the situation was not resolving. Unbeknownst to JR, he uttered the exact secret phrase that Awoke The Crazy in me and tore me away from the drawing board. Here is the phrase:
"I think we can take it to a mechanic near here."
"Not happening," said I.
We agreed to meet up at a halfway point so long as Sunshine was able to push herself along without too much of a problem. I really needed Sunshine to limp a little further so I could make it just a three-day interruption from the drawing board. Within hours, I roused NaranjaWesty, "road trip! wake up! here, I'll check your oil, OK, let's go!" and off onto I-10 went we, I and NaranjaWesty. A couple of phone stops to continue the diagnostics with JR and Kit as Sunshine faltered, and we could see that our agreed-upon rendezvous was becoming less likely. I was keeping an eye on the weather too, as a system that promised to douse us was moving in from the west. Then, in the evening, I get a text, "we're hosed". The accelerator cable had snapped, and JR had had to do a replacement "in the mud" as he put it, and the engine was just about refusing to start.
I know this moment. After all of the time sweat and expense in Miami barely a week ago, this situation just had to bleed anyone's enthusiasm down to a sodden hopelessness. Rain was beginning to pelt NaranjaWesty as I drove east, and I was getting petulant at the thought of trouble-shooting this mystery in the rain somewhere or another. So I called Jivermo to get the number to the Weisswurst Pig Goat Tow Ford Rooster Sprinter Jeep VW Diesel Emporium. Jivermo texted me the number and the proprietor/farmer/savior picked up on the second ring.
"We have a traveling couple that needs our help."
I arrived (late) the next morning to find our traveling couple airing out the discouragement of the prior day.
They had gotten a late night tow to the farm. Weisswurst had been the model of late night hospitality, and I had been the model of Late Next Morning Delayed Departure and Where Am I Anyway, somewhere up Route 90/19. That was a fine fine breakfast with fine coffee to begin our trouble-shooting day with some fine people:
Hello, Dottie. That is a fine kid:
Now look at the below photograph. It is the very next photograph I took. See? Night time. Hours upon hours later. There was rain. Oh, there was trouble-shooting.
There was a first-step valve adjustment, there was a "pull the spark plugs and clean and gap them", there was a critical compression test (115/120/120/115 ? did I get that right?), there were electrical tests, there were moments of wild panic within (clenched teeth furious whisper > "you HAVE to start")("pleeeeeze"), and we even did a NaranjaWesty distributor transplant that seems a little excessive in retrospect, but I was all over their 12 year-old Pertronix being the cause of a hot coil and an odd mis-grounding of the fuel injectors. I talked too much. I always do. I create theory stories, JR, I create idle theories of why the engine won't idle and how these parts interact to meet the symptoms that we can see and smell and feel. Then, when the engine finally resuscitates, I have to test my stories against reality. And JR, after a full day of wandering with me through muddled plots and failed takes and dropped lines, joined me in a late-hour test of our testing. So we did put Sunshine's Pertronix distributor back in the engine, and it ran FINE on our umteenth test drive through the neighborhood.
Thus, all of this, this whoOole SAGA, had to be laid at the feet of
a) a coil
b) a temp sensor 2
A) Lousy coil. Spark would break down when the coil got hot. Coil got hot because of odd internal resistance from melted internal windings? I don't know.
B) Temp sensor 2 we had to replace because of known intermittent false signals and it was not secure due to the upper cylinder cover tin not having a wide enough space around the sensor hole. It was seated only on a crescent of tin. We dremeled the tin around the sensor hole and the new sensor is fully seated and contacting only the head aluminum.
But WAIT! I was displeased on the victory test drive (oh NOOoooo!)
"I am NOT going back to Pensacola tonight!" No way, in fact. The steering was abhorrent, it was repugnant, it was sloppy and undisciplined and vague and the column was not even attached the floor!
I'M NOT DONE. The headlamps, the headlamps, the headlamps were utterly wall-eyed.
Weisswurst, ever the most gracious farmer host landlord goat herder hospitality director, offered me a camp site at the house down the road with a real working warm shower. I gratefully accepted, something I rarely do.
Next morning, I am driving back to the Farm/VW Urgent Care Clinic, when I see something I have never seen before and probably never will see ever again, it is in the pantheon of Random Acts of Kindness:
Oh yes, Weisswurst Farms offers On The Fly Drive-By Coffee:
This extra day was devoted to MY issues with Sunshine. I haven't had the time to assess this road warrior princess since I first met her, so distracted have been we by emergencies ...
1. Disassembled and reassembled the headlamps so they can be adjusted and aim straight.
2. Replaced drag link AND center pin bushings AND secured steering column AND put oil in the steering box AND adjusted the steering box AND adjusted the rear brakes:
Then, we took a breath:
They say joy is infectious:
Thank-you thank-you Weisswurst and Ashraper for your hospitality and coffee and farm-fresh omelette-with-avocado, and thank-youse, JR and Kit, for muddling through the Great Wandering Diagnosis with graceful affirmation:
NaranjaWesty hit 97,000 miles 3 miles from the driveway when the alternator issued forth such a racket of banging and clacking . . . back to the drawing board.
Colin