Another thing that happened last week: I submitted a request to Comp Cams for a camshaft recommendation. I filled out a bunch of information for the request, and I thought I'd get a pretty simple, almost automated reply.
Instead, I was contacted by an actual person, and after exchanging e-mails for a while, I was very happy with the result. In the end I decided to get a hydraulic roller cam, although it will be pretty mild as far as roller cams go. I told the guy that I am building the engine for driveability and low-end torque, and as we discussed things I eventually mentioned which cylinder heads I was planning to use.
I plan to get some Edelbrock heads, but they come assembled with springs intended for flat tappet cams. I told the guy at Comp that I planned to just swap out the Edelbrock valve springs for the Comp springs, so that it would be OK for the roller cam. (Roller cams tend to require heavier valve springs; I think this is due to a combination of roller lifters being heavier than flat tappet lifters, and also due to roller cams' generally more aggressive lobe profiles.)
Well, it's always a matter of asking the right question, and when I mentioned the Edelbrock heads, he looked up the Edelbrock springs and said that actually they would be fine for this cam, because it is such a mild grind for a roller cam. But the roller lifters should give better wear characteristics and there should be less chance of wiping a lobe during break-in or anything like that. It's probably overkill for this engine, but it gives me some peace of mind.
(I am reminded of a program I once saw about tanks; they declared the German Tiger tank from WWII the most dominant tank ever, realtive to its era. They said its only real weakness was that it was so over-engineered. As an example, they mentioned that its crank rode on all roller bearings. The roller bearings had a service life of something like 40,000 hours. By contrast, the Tiger tank itself had an average combat service life of about four hours. So maybe this roller cam is just my inner German coming out.)
Anyway, eliminating valve springs, retainers, keepers and stem seals from the order saved me a couple hundred dollars, so I was glad for his help.
Today I had jury duty. I never got called out of the waiting room, and they let us go home at about 2:30. So, I decided to take advantage of being home during normal business hours and call up the place I wanted to get my transmission from. This place sells 100% new Muncie transmissions with a few design improvements over the original factory units, and the guy on the phone here was also very helpful.
I told him that I wanted to get the Muncie M20 wide ratio trans. Like I said about the Comp guy, it's always a matter of asking the right question, and fortunately the guy on the phone knew the right questions, because I certainly didn't.
He asked me about my project, and when I told him that I'm building a 1965 Impala with a little big block and 3.08 rear gears, he told me that the M20 was not a good fit. With that rear gear, even with the M20's lower first gear ratio, he said the Impala would be a slug off the line.
In the end, we decided to go with his Muncie M22Z, which has an even steeper first gear than the M20. The M22Z is based on the famous M22 "Rockcrusher." The Rockcrusher's helical gears are cut at a shallower angle than the M20 and M21 gears. This makes the transmission more efficient, but it also creates somewhat of a gear whine.
I think high-efficiency transmissions like this are the main reason why NASCAR stock cars have such a whine when you see the in-car camera views during caution flags, and I think it's also why the '55 gasser in "Two Lane Blacktop" had such a whine to it at lower speeds. In other words ... gear whine and M22s are awesome, so I am delighted that this guy has one with ratios that will work for me.
Also when I got home, I had a package from Summit, which was my 1965 Bel Air Mark IV big block motor mounts. I haven't tried a real test fit yet, but it looks to me like these are going to work. They also delivered my bellhousing at the same time.
There was also a slip from FedEx saying they tried to deliver something that requires a signature. I think this is probably my cam kit from Comp. Glad I have lots of empty house to store all these parts in. It's all (very, very slowly) coming together....
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Mounting Mystery
So ... what happened this week?
* I've started thinking that I ought to try and fit the engine block, bellhousing and transmission into the car and see how everything lines up before I send anything to the body shop. That way I'll know if I need to put any new mounting holes anywhere before the frame gets powder coated. Looking into that, I found that Summit Racing doesn't list any motor mounts for a Mark IV big block in a 1965 Impala. That's strange, because that engine came in that car from the factory. They list mounts for the small block and the W-motor, but not the Mark IV. And they list motor mounts for the Mark IV big block in a 1966 Impala, which are the same as the motor mounts for the Mark IV in a 1972 Monte Carlo, but, the engine mounts from the Monte Carlo won't fit onto the frame mounts in the Impala, so there must be something different there. Of course, there's no guarantee that the mounts in the car now are the mounts that it came from the factory with. Anyway, I decided to order a few other Mark IV-compatible mounts to see if any of them could be made to work (and return whichever ones didn't). I also found some mounts for a Mark IV big block in a 1965 Bel Air, which is weird, because that should be the same frame and mostly the same body as a 1965 Impala, so I ordered those to try them. A bellhousing is on the way, and I guess I better get the transmission on order soon.
* Friday I went to visit another body shop, Miller Streetworks. Looks much more promising than the other one, as far as what I'm looking to have done. I think I'll probably go there. I mentioned my motor mount problem to him while I was there, and he said he had a pair of mounts that should work. He said he'd removed them from another car and had nothing to use them for, so I could have them. I'm skeptical as to whether they'll actually work, but I hope they will because they look a lot more robust than the other options I've seen. And also, of course, they were free. Anyway, I have a few things to do still before I send the car to him.
* This weekend was the Rolex 24 Hours at Daytona, and I spent a lot of time trying to watch parts of that on TV and online. This was the race debut of the C7.R Corvette, so I wanted to see that. Unfortunately, it didn't go very well. One car retired with overheating issues, the other car dropped out of contention when they lost 30 minutes changing the transmission. But, a few problems are probably to be expected with a new car, and the overall win and second place went to the Corvette Daytona Prototypes, which also had a terrible debut in their first race at Daytona a few years ago. So, nowhere to go but up.
* This weekend I bought a couple gallons of carb cleaner and some pans and soaked the engine parts that I'd blasted, to try to get all the last gunk out of their inaccessible nooks and crannies. After soaking, I blasted the carb cleaner residue off with Brakleen. This seemed to work really well and I think I'm finally satisfied that they are clean enough to use on the engine. So today I masked them off to get them ready to paint. I ran out of time for actual painting, though, so I guess next weekend will be painting day for that stuff. To get a pan big enough to soak the intake manifold and rocker covers in, I bought a floor pan from Autozone and bent it up around the intake manifold to make it deeper. Here's a picture of how that worked out:
Not real pretty, but it was effective.
* Today I went to Lowe's, and while I was there I found some aluminum straps that look perfect for putting blowout straps over the rear window. More to come on that, eventually.
* Lastly, tonight I watched the movie "Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry," just to verify that mid-'60s full-size Chevys are awesome.
* I've started thinking that I ought to try and fit the engine block, bellhousing and transmission into the car and see how everything lines up before I send anything to the body shop. That way I'll know if I need to put any new mounting holes anywhere before the frame gets powder coated. Looking into that, I found that Summit Racing doesn't list any motor mounts for a Mark IV big block in a 1965 Impala. That's strange, because that engine came in that car from the factory. They list mounts for the small block and the W-motor, but not the Mark IV. And they list motor mounts for the Mark IV big block in a 1966 Impala, which are the same as the motor mounts for the Mark IV in a 1972 Monte Carlo, but, the engine mounts from the Monte Carlo won't fit onto the frame mounts in the Impala, so there must be something different there. Of course, there's no guarantee that the mounts in the car now are the mounts that it came from the factory with. Anyway, I decided to order a few other Mark IV-compatible mounts to see if any of them could be made to work (and return whichever ones didn't). I also found some mounts for a Mark IV big block in a 1965 Bel Air, which is weird, because that should be the same frame and mostly the same body as a 1965 Impala, so I ordered those to try them. A bellhousing is on the way, and I guess I better get the transmission on order soon.
* Friday I went to visit another body shop, Miller Streetworks. Looks much more promising than the other one, as far as what I'm looking to have done. I think I'll probably go there. I mentioned my motor mount problem to him while I was there, and he said he had a pair of mounts that should work. He said he'd removed them from another car and had nothing to use them for, so I could have them. I'm skeptical as to whether they'll actually work, but I hope they will because they look a lot more robust than the other options I've seen. And also, of course, they were free. Anyway, I have a few things to do still before I send the car to him.
* This weekend was the Rolex 24 Hours at Daytona, and I spent a lot of time trying to watch parts of that on TV and online. This was the race debut of the C7.R Corvette, so I wanted to see that. Unfortunately, it didn't go very well. One car retired with overheating issues, the other car dropped out of contention when they lost 30 minutes changing the transmission. But, a few problems are probably to be expected with a new car, and the overall win and second place went to the Corvette Daytona Prototypes, which also had a terrible debut in their first race at Daytona a few years ago. So, nowhere to go but up.
* This weekend I bought a couple gallons of carb cleaner and some pans and soaked the engine parts that I'd blasted, to try to get all the last gunk out of their inaccessible nooks and crannies. After soaking, I blasted the carb cleaner residue off with Brakleen. This seemed to work really well and I think I'm finally satisfied that they are clean enough to use on the engine. So today I masked them off to get them ready to paint. I ran out of time for actual painting, though, so I guess next weekend will be painting day for that stuff. To get a pan big enough to soak the intake manifold and rocker covers in, I bought a floor pan from Autozone and bent it up around the intake manifold to make it deeper. Here's a picture of how that worked out:
Not real pretty, but it was effective.
* Today I went to Lowe's, and while I was there I found some aluminum straps that look perfect for putting blowout straps over the rear window. More to come on that, eventually.
* Lastly, tonight I watched the movie "Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry," just to verify that mid-'60s full-size Chevys are awesome.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Biggs, Where Are You?!
So, a couple weeks ago I went to work and used the blast cabinet to clean up Matilda's bumper brackets.
They all looked pretty junky when I started, dirty and rusty. I worked my way through one of each type and then took before and after pictures.
Before:
After:
After I did one of each type, I worked my way through the rest, starting with the biggest one and working my way down to the smallest one, so that it would seem like it was going quicker as I went. Then I took everything back to the truck and discovered that I had left the two biggest brackets in the truck. Nuts. So the last two took me an hour each.
So then this past weekend I took some more stuff over there to clean it up. I spent a solid eight hours there on Saturday, and then went back for another hour and a half or so on Sunday. By the time I was finished, I think I was just starting to get good at setting up the cabinet for best results. There will probably be more stuff to blast before I'm done, though.
Blower motor housing and heater core housing:
Oil pan and rocker covers:
Timing cover and intake manifold:
So now my big concern is how to make sure I get all the blast media out of the engine parts before they get assembled back on to the engine. I think I'm going to try out the parts washer at work and see how that goes, then hopefully just blow everything off with Brakleen, and then paint it all.
Moving along....
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Who's in Charge Here?
OK, so I've been absolutely terrible at updating this. For a while that was because I wasn't getting much done, or at least it didn't feel like I was. And that was also partly due to some Corvair projects that came up and pulled me off of Matilda. And also due, in large part, to laziness.
To bring things up to speed, the current situation is something like this:
* The engine block has been back from the machine shop for months and is sitting on my engine stand, awaiting assembly.
* When I got the engine block back from the machine shop, I ordered a bunch of parts to start assembling the bottom end. But then I realized that it didn't make sense to start assembling the engine when the car still has to go out for bodywork. So now I have a bunch of parts sitting on the floor just inside my front door, and I've been working on getting the body ready to go to a body shop.
* Last weekend I visited a local body shop, which is called "Muscle Rod Shop." It's a very impressive operation, they do some very cool stuff. A lot of custom touches and extremely high-quality work. In fact, probably higher quality than I even want, considering my car will be mostly a driver, and considering that they would certainly charge me for it.
* I am planning to go visit another body shop on Friday afternoon. It's outside of town, on the way up towards Austin. I looked at their website and talked to the guy on the phone, and it looks promising.
* Last weekend and this weekend, I used the blast cabinet at work to clean up some parts, including bumper brackets, blower housing, heater core housing, oil pan, rocker covers and intake manifold. It took a lot of time (I spent eight solid hours there yesterday), but it makes everything look nice and clean. I think next weekend will be painting weekend for all that stuff. First, though, I also need to figure out a good way to try and make sure that I've cleaned all the blast media out of the engine parts....
* I've been doing a lot of online window shopping for parts and trying to make some lists of what I'll need to buy as the project progresses. It is kind of incredible how much time can be consumed by this....
I also spent a week or two trying to figure out how I could build the engine with dual quad carbs. Actually, I became briefly obsessed with building the engine with dual quad carbs. I worked out a couple of workable options, but in the end I decided it wasn't quite cool enough to offset how impractical it would be.
Anyway, the blasting work in combination with the move to pick a body shop gives me an encouraging feeling of progress, which is exciting. I'm going to try to put up a couple other posts this week, with photos and more specific details of recent progress, but this one should help to update the current state of the project in general.
To bring things up to speed, the current situation is something like this:
* The engine block has been back from the machine shop for months and is sitting on my engine stand, awaiting assembly.
* When I got the engine block back from the machine shop, I ordered a bunch of parts to start assembling the bottom end. But then I realized that it didn't make sense to start assembling the engine when the car still has to go out for bodywork. So now I have a bunch of parts sitting on the floor just inside my front door, and I've been working on getting the body ready to go to a body shop.
* Last weekend I visited a local body shop, which is called "Muscle Rod Shop." It's a very impressive operation, they do some very cool stuff. A lot of custom touches and extremely high-quality work. In fact, probably higher quality than I even want, considering my car will be mostly a driver, and considering that they would certainly charge me for it.
* I am planning to go visit another body shop on Friday afternoon. It's outside of town, on the way up towards Austin. I looked at their website and talked to the guy on the phone, and it looks promising.
* Last weekend and this weekend, I used the blast cabinet at work to clean up some parts, including bumper brackets, blower housing, heater core housing, oil pan, rocker covers and intake manifold. It took a lot of time (I spent eight solid hours there yesterday), but it makes everything look nice and clean. I think next weekend will be painting weekend for all that stuff. First, though, I also need to figure out a good way to try and make sure that I've cleaned all the blast media out of the engine parts....
* I've been doing a lot of online window shopping for parts and trying to make some lists of what I'll need to buy as the project progresses. It is kind of incredible how much time can be consumed by this....
I also spent a week or two trying to figure out how I could build the engine with dual quad carbs. Actually, I became briefly obsessed with building the engine with dual quad carbs. I worked out a couple of workable options, but in the end I decided it wasn't quite cool enough to offset how impractical it would be.
Anyway, the blasting work in combination with the move to pick a body shop gives me an encouraging feeling of progress, which is exciting. I'm going to try to put up a couple other posts this week, with photos and more specific details of recent progress, but this one should help to update the current state of the project in general.
Monday, September 02, 2013
This is the Self-Preservation Society
So, it's been a while since the last update, but work has been slowly progressing. Mostly I've been pulling parts off Matilda to try to get her ready to go to a body shop. Haven't located a body shop yet, though. I keep thinking that there's just a couple more things to pull off, but once I have those couple things off, I'll notice just a couple more. But, every little bit is progress, I guess.
I did get the dash removed, which was cool, because seeing how it goes together gives me some ideas for a few things I could do to customize it.
I also pulled out most of what was left of the rear interior, which was pretty much just the sail panel boards, and they were pretty much shot. In fact, pretty much all of what was left of the interior was pretty well shot.
One thing I forgot to mention in an earlier post was that I found what appears to be an interesting suspension modification in the rear. As far as I know, there's only supposed to be two springs in back, one on each side. But when I got under there, I found four springs.
In the photo, the front of the car is to the right. The spring closer to the front of the car, which seats in a pocket in the frame and extends down to the trailing arm, is the stock spring. The spring closer to the rear of the car sits on a base that is attached to the axle housing with a U-bolt clamp and apparently contacts the bottom of the frame around the rubber block above it.
When I saw the extra springs, I remembered that I had read that moonshiners, back in the 1930s, used to bolster the rear suspensions of their cars so that when they were loaded with gallons and gallons of moonshine, the police wouldn't notice that the car was sitting low in the back and arouse suspicion. This stiffening of the rear suspension turned out to be a benefit for handling, as well, when moonshiners started racing their cars in the contemporary version of what would eventually turn into modern day's "stock car" racing.
I don't know if that type of modification was still in practice by the time Matilda was built, and I've never thought of Texas as a hotbed of moonshining, although I suppose I could be wrong. If I took the time to ask a Texan, they would probably assure me that Texas invented moonshining, and also springs, cars, police, and the unit of measure known as the "gallon" (derived from the volume of one tenth of a Texan's hat, no doubt).
I thought maybe the springs were added as part of a "tow package," but I don't see any evidence that Matilda ever sported a hitch. The car was originally an SS, so I suppose the springs might have been added as some kind of performance modification by an amateur drag racer in the car's past. I don't know.
But then I remembered The Italian Job--the original The Italian Job, that is, of course--when Michael Caine, as Charlie Croker, explains that the rear suspensions of his gang's Mini Coopers have been reinforced to support the weight of the solid gold bricks that they plan to steal from the FIAT payroll convoy. This not only culminates in the most absurdly gratuitous car chase in the history of cinema, it also dovetails perfectly with my theory from an earlier entry about a bank robbery gone bad resulting in Matilda being run through a field during an off-road car chase, and giving her undercarriage its distinct "farm-fresh" scent.
Yes, I am now 92% sure that Matilda was used in an elaborate plot to steal millions of dollars of solid gold from a Mexican government payroll convoy, and that this crime was later developed into the screenplay for the major motion picture "The Italian Job."
Get your skates on, mate!
I did get the dash removed, which was cool, because seeing how it goes together gives me some ideas for a few things I could do to customize it.
One thing I forgot to mention in an earlier post was that I found what appears to be an interesting suspension modification in the rear. As far as I know, there's only supposed to be two springs in back, one on each side. But when I got under there, I found four springs.
In the photo, the front of the car is to the right. The spring closer to the front of the car, which seats in a pocket in the frame and extends down to the trailing arm, is the stock spring. The spring closer to the rear of the car sits on a base that is attached to the axle housing with a U-bolt clamp and apparently contacts the bottom of the frame around the rubber block above it.
When I saw the extra springs, I remembered that I had read that moonshiners, back in the 1930s, used to bolster the rear suspensions of their cars so that when they were loaded with gallons and gallons of moonshine, the police wouldn't notice that the car was sitting low in the back and arouse suspicion. This stiffening of the rear suspension turned out to be a benefit for handling, as well, when moonshiners started racing their cars in the contemporary version of what would eventually turn into modern day's "stock car" racing.
I don't know if that type of modification was still in practice by the time Matilda was built, and I've never thought of Texas as a hotbed of moonshining, although I suppose I could be wrong. If I took the time to ask a Texan, they would probably assure me that Texas invented moonshining, and also springs, cars, police, and the unit of measure known as the "gallon" (derived from the volume of one tenth of a Texan's hat, no doubt).
I thought maybe the springs were added as part of a "tow package," but I don't see any evidence that Matilda ever sported a hitch. The car was originally an SS, so I suppose the springs might have been added as some kind of performance modification by an amateur drag racer in the car's past. I don't know.
But then I remembered The Italian Job--the original The Italian Job, that is, of course--when Michael Caine, as Charlie Croker, explains that the rear suspensions of his gang's Mini Coopers have been reinforced to support the weight of the solid gold bricks that they plan to steal from the FIAT payroll convoy. This not only culminates in the most absurdly gratuitous car chase in the history of cinema, it also dovetails perfectly with my theory from an earlier entry about a bank robbery gone bad resulting in Matilda being run through a field during an off-road car chase, and giving her undercarriage its distinct "farm-fresh" scent.
Yes, I am now 92% sure that Matilda was used in an elaborate plot to steal millions of dollars of solid gold from a Mexican government payroll convoy, and that this crime was later developed into the screenplay for the major motion picture "The Italian Job."
Get your skates on, mate!
Sunday, July 14, 2013
meet Matilda
Matilda, out front of World Headquarters.
She sits with her nose in the air, but don't think she's a snob. She's just waiting for a big block.
Comfortable in the garage, at last.
Bumpers already removed, pulling off trim and front grille to get her ready for bodywork and paint.
Front grille and trim removed.
The expansive dashboard. There are two giant gauge pods. The one on the driver's left is split into quadrants for a fuel gauge, temperature gauge, oil pressure gauge and ammeter. The one on the driver's right is a giant manifold vacuum gauge. It's actually probably closer to the passenger than it is to the driver, and for some reason I find its size and location hilarious. I think I might replace the giant speedometer with custom-mounted gauges for a speedo, a tach, and some small gauges for temperature, oil pressure, volts and fuel. Then I could relocate the giant manifold vacuum gauge to the driver's left and I think there are factory clocks that will fit in the spot where the manifold vacuum gauge is now. It's a great looking dash, though. On the one hand, I hate to spoil its 1960s style. On the other hand, I'd like to have a tach somewhere, and I think the modified dash would give more of a "race car" look. Although, I once got to look inside a real 1966 NASCAR stock car, and I think it only had a tach and an oil pressure gauge. But I'd like a little more than that, though.
I probably should have taken pictures before I started gutting the interior, but there wasn't really a whole lot here even as the car was received. I pulled out the back seat and used a Shop Vac to suck a bunch of garbage out of the car before taking this picture.
Out on the patio, here is the bottom half of the back seat, and the crappy bucket seats that weren't even bolted down in the front of the car. From the looks of them, I'd guess they came out of a late-model minivan in a junkyard. They're still on the patio now, but Monday is the city's next day for "bulky item" trash pick up.
Looks like a great place to put a Mark IV big block V8.
"It's all relative." The Corvair was Chevrolet's first "compact" car. It doesn't look real "compact" by today's standards, but here it is with the Impala's bumper on the floor in front of it. The edges of the bumpers are lined up on the driver's side, and it can be seen that the Impala bumper is a good foot past the Corvair's bumper on the passenger side.
The gas tank is out, and on the floor. The exhaust is removed, cut up and on the floor, too. I guess sometimes it's a little strange what I get excited about, but I was delighted to see the track bar rear suspension. The track bar, or "Panhard rod," as Europeans might call it, is the long bar that runs diagonally down, left to right in the picture above. It locates the rear end laterally under the body. It is a design that is sufficiently antiquated that even Bertha didn't have one, and yet it is used to this day under NASCAR "stock cars." So, modern NASCAR's roots can be seen here, and Matilda's NASCAR roots, too.
Sunday, July 07, 2013
identity crisis
All right. I'm calling it. A large part of the reason for the long pause between posts was because I've been struggling to decide what to call the Impala. But there comes a point where you just have to make a decision.
I guess it wasn't clear to some people that the Impala was supposed to be called Bertha II (and/or Bertha, too). The idea was that I wanted Bertha to live on through the Impala, and there just really isn't any name that's better than Bertha. But, I guess some people didn't get that, and other people keep telling me that the Impala should have a different name. Perhaps most importantly, I'm starting to realize that it's just confusing to refer to both cars by the same name. So I guess it is time to pick a different name.
The first name I considered was Maybelline. This would be kind of a natural progression, because Bertha was named after one of Darrell Waltrip's race cars, and at the same time that he was racing Bertha, his team had another car named Maybelline. There's also this classic Chuck Berry song. On the other hand, Maybelline just doesn't sound as rugged and reliable as Bertha, and as for the song, I hate to think of myself broken down on the side of the road, asking my car, "Oh, Maybelline, why can't you be true?" Plus, the song refers to "my V8 Ford," and we already know my position on Fords: OK for Mark Martin; not OK for me. So, no Maybelline.
The next name was Roberta - sounds more rugged than Maybelline, almost has the name "Bertha" contained in it. But most importantly, I ain't mad at you, so don't you be mad at me. This was really the front-runner until I thought of...
...Matilda. This name is awesome, and it shares a number of characteristics with the name Bertha. (1) it sounds rugged, (2) I don't know of any songs about it, (3) it's an American name with German roots, (4) military equipment has been named after it. Also, it means "mighty in battle," which is pretty awesome.
So anyway, it's settled, the Impala is Matilda. Long live Matilda. If you have other ideas about what the Impala should be called, please feel free to let me know (be prepared to be ignored).
In the meantime, I've been pulling stuff off of Matilda to get her ready to go to a body shop. The bumpers and the front grille are removed, and I pulled out most of what little bit was left of the interior. The exhaust piping has been removed, and the gas tank. I still need to remove the taillights, a little bit of interior stuff, and various other miscellaneous items.
While removing some of the exhaust hangers, I noticed that the underside of Matilda smells a lot like what I remember of Uncle Howard's farm equipment. I would like to think that this means that Matilda was once used as a get-away car after a bank robbery that went wrong, and she was driven through a soybean field while fleeing from the police. But, she was built in Arlington, Texas and has probably been in Texas her whole life. So in all actuality, it was probably just a barren field of dirt, and not a soybean field.
Also, I looked up Matilda's VIN, and it turns out that she's an original SS car, so that's pretty cool. It won't really have much impact on how I build most of the car, but I feel like it entitles me to get the cool door panels with the SS logos on them when I re-do the interior.
Now that that's all settled ... pictures should be coming very soon.
I guess it wasn't clear to some people that the Impala was supposed to be called Bertha II (and/or Bertha, too). The idea was that I wanted Bertha to live on through the Impala, and there just really isn't any name that's better than Bertha. But, I guess some people didn't get that, and other people keep telling me that the Impala should have a different name. Perhaps most importantly, I'm starting to realize that it's just confusing to refer to both cars by the same name. So I guess it is time to pick a different name.
The first name I considered was Maybelline. This would be kind of a natural progression, because Bertha was named after one of Darrell Waltrip's race cars, and at the same time that he was racing Bertha, his team had another car named Maybelline. There's also this classic Chuck Berry song. On the other hand, Maybelline just doesn't sound as rugged and reliable as Bertha, and as for the song, I hate to think of myself broken down on the side of the road, asking my car, "Oh, Maybelline, why can't you be true?" Plus, the song refers to "my V8 Ford," and we already know my position on Fords: OK for Mark Martin; not OK for me. So, no Maybelline.
The next name was Roberta - sounds more rugged than Maybelline, almost has the name "Bertha" contained in it. But most importantly, I ain't mad at you, so don't you be mad at me. This was really the front-runner until I thought of...
...Matilda. This name is awesome, and it shares a number of characteristics with the name Bertha. (1) it sounds rugged, (2) I don't know of any songs about it, (3) it's an American name with German roots, (4) military equipment has been named after it. Also, it means "mighty in battle," which is pretty awesome.
So anyway, it's settled, the Impala is Matilda. Long live Matilda. If you have other ideas about what the Impala should be called, please feel free to let me know (be prepared to be ignored).
In the meantime, I've been pulling stuff off of Matilda to get her ready to go to a body shop. The bumpers and the front grille are removed, and I pulled out most of what little bit was left of the interior. The exhaust piping has been removed, and the gas tank. I still need to remove the taillights, a little bit of interior stuff, and various other miscellaneous items.
While removing some of the exhaust hangers, I noticed that the underside of Matilda smells a lot like what I remember of Uncle Howard's farm equipment. I would like to think that this means that Matilda was once used as a get-away car after a bank robbery that went wrong, and she was driven through a soybean field while fleeing from the police. But, she was built in Arlington, Texas and has probably been in Texas her whole life. So in all actuality, it was probably just a barren field of dirt, and not a soybean field.
Also, I looked up Matilda's VIN, and it turns out that she's an original SS car, so that's pretty cool. It won't really have much impact on how I build most of the car, but I feel like it entitles me to get the cool door panels with the SS logos on them when I re-do the interior.
Now that that's all settled ... pictures should be coming very soon.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
teardown
Unbolting the headers, getting ready to pull the engine. Once the Monte Carlo's giant fan shroud was out of the way, and the headers were removed and all the accessories removed, there was actually enough room to squeeze the engine out without removing the hood or the radiator.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Bertha is dead, long live Bertha
So, whoever said that time heals all wounds must not have studied physics. If that person had studied physics, they would know about entropy. Look it up. It basically says that, unless you do something to prevent it, everything only ever gets worse. Now you know why physicists always look depressed.
Well, I didn't do enough to prevent it, and Bertha got a whole lot worse. I kept thinking that some day, when I had all the proper facilities and the means, I would fix her up the way she deserved. In the mean time, she was rusting and rusting and rusting, and by the end I felt like she was too far gone to save. Pretty much every major body panel was rotted out, and the frame had actually gotten so flimsy that I probably shouldn't have had it on the road. Anything can be fixed, but I felt like by the time everything had been replaced that needed to be, it would be like the guy who says he has his grandfather's hammer, but he's replaced the handle three times and the head once. It wouldn't be the same car. So, me and Bertha enjoyed more than 100,000 great miles together, but I decided it was time to let her go.
Well ... that is to say, I decided it was time to let go of the rotten frame and body. I pulled her 402 big block out, with a plan to rebuild it and transplant it into a new car, so that Bertha can live on. The intended purpose of this blog is to document the project for anyone who's interested in following along.
I stumbled on to Bertha through dumb luck when I bought her. Once I started thinking seriously about transferring her motor into something new, I had to decide just exactly what that "something new" was going to be. I knew it would be a Chevy, of course, but that still left a lot of possibilities. I didn't want to do a Chevelle or a Camaro. Those are beautiful cars, but I feel like their popularity drives up their prices too much, and I wanted to do something different, anyway. Something that you don't see as much.
At first I thought I wanted to do a 1968-72 Nova. But I'd also always liked 1967 Impalas, the two-door hardtops. Then I started to get into hot rods. For a long time I really wanted to do a hot rod. Finally I started to realize that a hot rod wouldn't be real practical for daily use, and whatever I build, it's important to me that I should be able to drive it regularly and reliably, just like I've always done with Bertha. I think I could build a hot rod to be reliable, but with no trunk space and the engine exposed to the rain and other things like that, it just doesn't seem like a practical choice. So, I started thinking about other options. I think 1962-64 Impalas are real cool, and I thought about something along those lines, maybe a '64 Biscayne. After a while, though, I was back on to 1968-72 Novas.
I love looking through photos of old race cars from the '60s, and one of my favorite series is the SCCA Trans Am series from the late '60s and early '70s. The Trans Am series most famously featured Camaros and Mustangs, but it also featured Cougars, Firebirds, Barracudas, Challengers, Darts, Javelins, Corvairs, and--on a couple rare occasions--Novas. Those Novas were the 1966-67 body style, but I thought it would be real cool to do a "what-if" 1968-72 style Nova done up like a Trans Am racer. But, Trans Am cars were limited to 305 (5.0L) cubic inch motors, and it just didn't seem right to put a big block into a car that was supposed to look like a Trans Am car. It's just too much weight up front for such a small car, especially if it's supposed to be able to handle at all.
So, the more I thought about it, the only old race cars I could think of that ran big blocks and made turns were NASCAR cars and Can-Am cars. While it would be pretty amazing to have a daily driver modelled on a classic Can-Am car, that still didn't sound real practical, or affordable. That pretty much left NASCAR.
Chevrolet didn't have much of a presence in NASCAR during the second half of the '60s, but there were 1970-72 Monte Carlos, like Bertha, in NASCAR in the first half of the '70s. And I knew that there had been a few 1965 Impalas raced, too. So when it came down to time to buy a car, I was looking for either a 1971-72 Monte Carlo (I don't like the 1970 Montes as much), or a 1965 Impala. I was having a devil of a time deciding what to get. The Impala has more class, in my mind, and I liked that about it. On the other hand, there's something really cool about the Monte Carlo's early-'70s tackiness. One practical advantage of the Impala is that, in 1965, NASCAR was still requiring the cars to run showroom-stock bodies, whereas by the early '70s the bodies were being modified, especially around the wheel wells. So that meant that it would be easier to get an "authentic" look with a '65 Impala without chopping up the body.
Well, this story's already long, but to make it a little bit shorter, a '65 came up on Craigslist, and it looked like it had potential. The purchase process was a bit drawn-out, with a bunch of separate trips to go look at it, similar to the purchase of the original Bertha. I had about talked myself out of this one, but then the owner said that he would knock a bunch of money off the asking price if he could keep the engine and transmission. I didn't want the engine and transmission, anyway, so that suddenly made the car more attractive. When I found out that it already had a 12-bolt rearend under it, that made it a little more attractive, still. I was still debating whether a 1965 Impala was really what I wanted, but finally I decided that it was and I pulled the trigger. I am now the owner of a 1965 Impala. "All it needs" is some body work, paint, an engine, a transmission, some suspension modifications, and an interior. Nothing that a massive investment of time and money can't fix. But the body and frame look to be pretty solid, and I think it's a good starting point. A lot of what it needs is stuff that I would have wanted to re-do anyway.
One other thing I should probably clarify is that I am not actually building a race car. I want the car to have the look and the feel of an old race car, but in the end I still want it to be practical, reliable transportation that I can enjoy driving every day.
So. All that being said ... here we go. Like I said earlier, I will attempt to use this blog to document the project. I wanted to write these first two entries to kind of "set the stage," but in the future I think that entries will be mostly just pictures with captions, and maybe a few paragraphs here and there. We'll see how it goes.
Bertha's engine has already been pulled and stripped down to the block. Her transmission is sitting on a pallet in the garage. Last weekend, what was left of the Monte Carlo was hauled away, and the Impala is now in the garage. Nothing to do now but a whole bunch of work.
Bertha is dead. Long live Bertha!
Well, I didn't do enough to prevent it, and Bertha got a whole lot worse. I kept thinking that some day, when I had all the proper facilities and the means, I would fix her up the way she deserved. In the mean time, she was rusting and rusting and rusting, and by the end I felt like she was too far gone to save. Pretty much every major body panel was rotted out, and the frame had actually gotten so flimsy that I probably shouldn't have had it on the road. Anything can be fixed, but I felt like by the time everything had been replaced that needed to be, it would be like the guy who says he has his grandfather's hammer, but he's replaced the handle three times and the head once. It wouldn't be the same car. So, me and Bertha enjoyed more than 100,000 great miles together, but I decided it was time to let her go.
Well ... that is to say, I decided it was time to let go of the rotten frame and body. I pulled her 402 big block out, with a plan to rebuild it and transplant it into a new car, so that Bertha can live on. The intended purpose of this blog is to document the project for anyone who's interested in following along.
I stumbled on to Bertha through dumb luck when I bought her. Once I started thinking seriously about transferring her motor into something new, I had to decide just exactly what that "something new" was going to be. I knew it would be a Chevy, of course, but that still left a lot of possibilities. I didn't want to do a Chevelle or a Camaro. Those are beautiful cars, but I feel like their popularity drives up their prices too much, and I wanted to do something different, anyway. Something that you don't see as much.
At first I thought I wanted to do a 1968-72 Nova. But I'd also always liked 1967 Impalas, the two-door hardtops. Then I started to get into hot rods. For a long time I really wanted to do a hot rod. Finally I started to realize that a hot rod wouldn't be real practical for daily use, and whatever I build, it's important to me that I should be able to drive it regularly and reliably, just like I've always done with Bertha. I think I could build a hot rod to be reliable, but with no trunk space and the engine exposed to the rain and other things like that, it just doesn't seem like a practical choice. So, I started thinking about other options. I think 1962-64 Impalas are real cool, and I thought about something along those lines, maybe a '64 Biscayne. After a while, though, I was back on to 1968-72 Novas.
I love looking through photos of old race cars from the '60s, and one of my favorite series is the SCCA Trans Am series from the late '60s and early '70s. The Trans Am series most famously featured Camaros and Mustangs, but it also featured Cougars, Firebirds, Barracudas, Challengers, Darts, Javelins, Corvairs, and--on a couple rare occasions--Novas. Those Novas were the 1966-67 body style, but I thought it would be real cool to do a "what-if" 1968-72 style Nova done up like a Trans Am racer. But, Trans Am cars were limited to 305 (5.0L) cubic inch motors, and it just didn't seem right to put a big block into a car that was supposed to look like a Trans Am car. It's just too much weight up front for such a small car, especially if it's supposed to be able to handle at all.
So, the more I thought about it, the only old race cars I could think of that ran big blocks and made turns were NASCAR cars and Can-Am cars. While it would be pretty amazing to have a daily driver modelled on a classic Can-Am car, that still didn't sound real practical, or affordable. That pretty much left NASCAR.
Chevrolet didn't have much of a presence in NASCAR during the second half of the '60s, but there were 1970-72 Monte Carlos, like Bertha, in NASCAR in the first half of the '70s. And I knew that there had been a few 1965 Impalas raced, too. So when it came down to time to buy a car, I was looking for either a 1971-72 Monte Carlo (I don't like the 1970 Montes as much), or a 1965 Impala. I was having a devil of a time deciding what to get. The Impala has more class, in my mind, and I liked that about it. On the other hand, there's something really cool about the Monte Carlo's early-'70s tackiness. One practical advantage of the Impala is that, in 1965, NASCAR was still requiring the cars to run showroom-stock bodies, whereas by the early '70s the bodies were being modified, especially around the wheel wells. So that meant that it would be easier to get an "authentic" look with a '65 Impala without chopping up the body.
Well, this story's already long, but to make it a little bit shorter, a '65 came up on Craigslist, and it looked like it had potential. The purchase process was a bit drawn-out, with a bunch of separate trips to go look at it, similar to the purchase of the original Bertha. I had about talked myself out of this one, but then the owner said that he would knock a bunch of money off the asking price if he could keep the engine and transmission. I didn't want the engine and transmission, anyway, so that suddenly made the car more attractive. When I found out that it already had a 12-bolt rearend under it, that made it a little more attractive, still. I was still debating whether a 1965 Impala was really what I wanted, but finally I decided that it was and I pulled the trigger. I am now the owner of a 1965 Impala. "All it needs" is some body work, paint, an engine, a transmission, some suspension modifications, and an interior. Nothing that a massive investment of time and money can't fix. But the body and frame look to be pretty solid, and I think it's a good starting point. A lot of what it needs is stuff that I would have wanted to re-do anyway.
One other thing I should probably clarify is that I am not actually building a race car. I want the car to have the look and the feel of an old race car, but in the end I still want it to be practical, reliable transportation that I can enjoy driving every day.
So. All that being said ... here we go. Like I said earlier, I will attempt to use this blog to document the project. I wanted to write these first two entries to kind of "set the stage," but in the future I think that entries will be mostly just pictures with captions, and maybe a few paragraphs here and there. We'll see how it goes.
Bertha's engine has already been pulled and stripped down to the block. Her transmission is sitting on a pallet in the garage. Last weekend, what was left of the Monte Carlo was hauled away, and the Impala is now in the garage. Nothing to do now but a whole bunch of work.
Bertha is dead. Long live Bertha!
Friday, June 07, 2013
every story has a beginning
Pretty much everyone who knows me knows that I am a die-hard Chevy guy. Sometime when I was a little kid, around third or fifth grade or so, I saw Dale Earnhardt's "pass in the grass" against Bill Elliott in the 1987 Winston. I don't remember if I saw it live, or on a highlight replay, but I do know that I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen, and from that point on, Dale Earnhardt was my guy. And Dale Earnhardt drove a Chevy.
In the spring of 1998, I decided that I wanted to buy a car. I was just finishing my freshman year at the University of Illinois, and when I came home for the summer, I started looking for a car. By that time, for about ten years, and about half my life, I'd been a Chevy guy. But, as I was starting to look forward to buying a car, the realist in me knew that I might not be able to find just exactly what I wanted. At that time, EBay was in its infancy, if it existed at all, and Craigslist wasn't even on the horizon. I would be limited to whatever was listed in the classified ads in the Suburban Life newspaper. The goal was to buy a car right away, so I could drive it to my new summer job in Elmhurst. That meant I wouldn't be able to wait very long to see what might become available. With all this in mind, I started making a conscious effort to shed my biases and open my mind. I didn't have any strong objections to other GM makes, especially Oldsmobile. I had always liked the 1971 Cutlass S that my dad had when I was a kid. And Plymouth and Dodge were not a real hard sell, either. I could even stomach Mercury. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was even trying to warm up to Ford, just in case that was all I could find. I remember that the best thing I could think of, to try to come to terms with Ford, was that Mark Martin drove a Ford. After all, you've got to respect the hell out of Mark Martin.
I remember the first car that caught my eye was a 1968 Plymouth Barracuda. Boy, that would have been cool, right? At the time, I didn't even know what a 1968 Barracuda looked like, I just knew that I liked cars from the late-60's and early-70's. But it was listed in the Tribune, and it was somewhere in Chicago, and I never did go look at it. Turns out they're pretty awesome.
Looking through the Suburban Life, I saw two prospects. There was a 1974 Pontiac Grand Prix for $3800, and there was a 1972 Monte Carlo for $4200. I called about the Grand Prix, but it had already sold. I wasn't really sure if I wanted a Grand Prix, but when I heard it had sold so quickly, I felt like I must have really missed out. Man, am I glad now that I didn't get that Grand Prix.
I called about the Monte Carlo, and arranged to go take a look at it. It was in Berwyn, and I think the first time I went to go look at it, I might have gone with my buddy Jason. We looked at it, and that was about it. I went back later with my dad, and we test drove it a bit. It seems like there might have even been a third trip before I made an offer. Dad put a vacuum gauge on the engine, and it looked OK. He pulled out his old rubber hose "stethoscope," and didn't find anything too objectionable. Then we test drove it around the neighborhood. Brakes worked OK, the car ran pretty smooth, although the idle was a little high. Dad said I should get it up to highway speed on the test drive, so we took it on to I-290. I remember the car felt so huge, and the spot where we got on 290 had us merging into the left lane. I was white-knuckled trying to maneuver that thing into traffic at speed, with a concrete wall on my left and cars flying by on the right. The huge C-pillars didn't help visibility, and the massive hood stretching out in front of me looked like it was just inches from scraping everything around us. But we survived, and the car ran smooth enough. We took the car back to the guy's building, and I told him I'd think about it.
I called the guy on Friday and asked him if he'd take $3500. He said he'd think about it and call me back after the weekend. At the end of the weekend, I still hadn't heard from him, so I called him on Sunday night. He said he couldn't take less than $4000. So, that was that. No Monte Carlo.
I was disappointed, but I think maybe a little relieved, too. I think I had been nervous about making such a large purchase, of such an old car, such an unknown quantity. I still needed a car for the summer, so I bought my dad's 1992 Buick Skylark (a two door), which was affectionately known among my friends as "the Dynaride." It was a great car, and it got me to work and back every day. I also drove it to New Orleans and back one weekend in June.
At some point, probably in July, I think, the Monte Carlo owner's wife called and left a message on my parents' answering machine, saying that they were ready to accept the $3500 offer. I called her back and said, sorry, I already bought a car.
But, as the summer wound down, I kept thinking about that Monte Carlo. As it got closer and closer to time to go back to school, I was thinking more and more: I want that Monte Carlo.
But, I had bought the Skylark, and I still felt like I needed my dad's permission to make such a big decision. Plus, I'd need him to buy the Skylark back if I was going to have the money for the Monte. While he was at work one day, I told my mom that I wanted the Monte Carlo, and she said something along the lines of, "Well, talk to Dad about it." That night my mom had some place to go, and me and my dad were sitting in the family room watching TV. I have no idea what was on, I was just sitting there trying to figure out how to start the conversation. I thought he was against the idea of buying the Monte Carlo, although I don't remember if he ever explicitly said so. Hours passed, and I didn't say anything. Then my mom came home. I saw her car go past the window as she drove back to the garage, and suddenly I was panicking, imagining her walking in and saying, "So, are you going to get the Monte Carlo?" and my dad saying, "What?!" So, I hurriedly said something like, "If it's all the same to you, I think I want to buy that Monte Carlo."
I don't think my dad even looked away from the television. He just said, "Well ... it's your money." I couldn't believe it. I was ecstatic! I had been bracing for a discussion, a debate, pros and cons, fiscal philosophy, and so on. I got, "Well, it's your money." It was better than any outcome I had even dared to hope for.
So, I called the seller back and we agreed to $3500. It was arranged that I'd sell the Skylark back to my dad for a little less than what I bought it for. We went and picked up the Monte Carlo on Sunday, August 23rd, the day before I was supposed to drive back to school.
My dad drove me over there, I paid with a check, the seller had a contract written up on a piece of paper torn out of a spiral notebook. That's about all I remember about the actual transaction. The seller also said he'd just changed the alternator. Probably not a great sign, but I didn't much care. I was getting a Chevy.
My dad followed me home, and we were into La Grange, a couple of miles from home, when the engine died. That was when I first found out what a 1972 Monte Carlo drives like with no power steering and no vacuum-assist brakes. I wrestled it to the curb and my dad pulled over behind me. At this point, I did not feel good.
I think my dad had to be thinking I had just bought a junker, and maybe even kicking himself for not talking me out of it. But one of the many things I admire about my dad is his ability to put those kinds of things aside when I problem comes up, and just focus on finding a solution.
We popped the hood and poked around, or I probably mostly watched my dad poke around. The fuel gauge was close to "E," and the best guess after looking around was that the car had run out of gas. Dad went home to get a gas can, and I stayed to wait with the car. As Dad drove off, I got in the car, shut the door, and when I went to rest my arm on top of the door, I accidentally pushed the lock down. I remember thinking that it seemed uncomfortably metaphorical, locking myself into this car that wouldn't run.
It felt like forever, but eventually Dad came back with some gas. Somehow, the car re-started, and I was able to drive it home. I don't remember for sure, but we must have had to jump it. It made it the couple of miles back to the driveway, and when we got it home, we popped the hood and started looking around again. I didn't hardly know what I was looking at, but somehow I found a plug hidden under the heater hoses that had not been plugged into the alternator. The car had died because it was running off the battery and it had run the battery dead. I plugged it in, we jump-started the car, and my dad followed me as I drove it down to Joliet and back, to road test it and charge the battery.
I was back on top of the world. I had survived my first breakdown, I had found the problem and fixed it myself, and I now owned a 1972 Monte Carlo. I named her "Bertha," after a Chevy that Darrell Waltrip raced in the late 1970s.
So, that was the beginning of my story with Bertha. Over the next 14 years, I would enjoy over 100,000 miles with Bertha, with not a whole lot more than routine maintenance and upkeep. I have learned so much since I bought that car, and I learned a lot of it from working on that car. I think that car was, without a doubt, the best purchase I ever made.
In the spring of 1998, I decided that I wanted to buy a car. I was just finishing my freshman year at the University of Illinois, and when I came home for the summer, I started looking for a car. By that time, for about ten years, and about half my life, I'd been a Chevy guy. But, as I was starting to look forward to buying a car, the realist in me knew that I might not be able to find just exactly what I wanted. At that time, EBay was in its infancy, if it existed at all, and Craigslist wasn't even on the horizon. I would be limited to whatever was listed in the classified ads in the Suburban Life newspaper. The goal was to buy a car right away, so I could drive it to my new summer job in Elmhurst. That meant I wouldn't be able to wait very long to see what might become available. With all this in mind, I started making a conscious effort to shed my biases and open my mind. I didn't have any strong objections to other GM makes, especially Oldsmobile. I had always liked the 1971 Cutlass S that my dad had when I was a kid. And Plymouth and Dodge were not a real hard sell, either. I could even stomach Mercury. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was even trying to warm up to Ford, just in case that was all I could find. I remember that the best thing I could think of, to try to come to terms with Ford, was that Mark Martin drove a Ford. After all, you've got to respect the hell out of Mark Martin.
I remember the first car that caught my eye was a 1968 Plymouth Barracuda. Boy, that would have been cool, right? At the time, I didn't even know what a 1968 Barracuda looked like, I just knew that I liked cars from the late-60's and early-70's. But it was listed in the Tribune, and it was somewhere in Chicago, and I never did go look at it. Turns out they're pretty awesome.
Looking through the Suburban Life, I saw two prospects. There was a 1974 Pontiac Grand Prix for $3800, and there was a 1972 Monte Carlo for $4200. I called about the Grand Prix, but it had already sold. I wasn't really sure if I wanted a Grand Prix, but when I heard it had sold so quickly, I felt like I must have really missed out. Man, am I glad now that I didn't get that Grand Prix.
I called about the Monte Carlo, and arranged to go take a look at it. It was in Berwyn, and I think the first time I went to go look at it, I might have gone with my buddy Jason. We looked at it, and that was about it. I went back later with my dad, and we test drove it a bit. It seems like there might have even been a third trip before I made an offer. Dad put a vacuum gauge on the engine, and it looked OK. He pulled out his old rubber hose "stethoscope," and didn't find anything too objectionable. Then we test drove it around the neighborhood. Brakes worked OK, the car ran pretty smooth, although the idle was a little high. Dad said I should get it up to highway speed on the test drive, so we took it on to I-290. I remember the car felt so huge, and the spot where we got on 290 had us merging into the left lane. I was white-knuckled trying to maneuver that thing into traffic at speed, with a concrete wall on my left and cars flying by on the right. The huge C-pillars didn't help visibility, and the massive hood stretching out in front of me looked like it was just inches from scraping everything around us. But we survived, and the car ran smooth enough. We took the car back to the guy's building, and I told him I'd think about it.
I called the guy on Friday and asked him if he'd take $3500. He said he'd think about it and call me back after the weekend. At the end of the weekend, I still hadn't heard from him, so I called him on Sunday night. He said he couldn't take less than $4000. So, that was that. No Monte Carlo.
I was disappointed, but I think maybe a little relieved, too. I think I had been nervous about making such a large purchase, of such an old car, such an unknown quantity. I still needed a car for the summer, so I bought my dad's 1992 Buick Skylark (a two door), which was affectionately known among my friends as "the Dynaride." It was a great car, and it got me to work and back every day. I also drove it to New Orleans and back one weekend in June.
At some point, probably in July, I think, the Monte Carlo owner's wife called and left a message on my parents' answering machine, saying that they were ready to accept the $3500 offer. I called her back and said, sorry, I already bought a car.
But, as the summer wound down, I kept thinking about that Monte Carlo. As it got closer and closer to time to go back to school, I was thinking more and more: I want that Monte Carlo.
But, I had bought the Skylark, and I still felt like I needed my dad's permission to make such a big decision. Plus, I'd need him to buy the Skylark back if I was going to have the money for the Monte. While he was at work one day, I told my mom that I wanted the Monte Carlo, and she said something along the lines of, "Well, talk to Dad about it." That night my mom had some place to go, and me and my dad were sitting in the family room watching TV. I have no idea what was on, I was just sitting there trying to figure out how to start the conversation. I thought he was against the idea of buying the Monte Carlo, although I don't remember if he ever explicitly said so. Hours passed, and I didn't say anything. Then my mom came home. I saw her car go past the window as she drove back to the garage, and suddenly I was panicking, imagining her walking in and saying, "So, are you going to get the Monte Carlo?" and my dad saying, "What?!" So, I hurriedly said something like, "If it's all the same to you, I think I want to buy that Monte Carlo."
I don't think my dad even looked away from the television. He just said, "Well ... it's your money." I couldn't believe it. I was ecstatic! I had been bracing for a discussion, a debate, pros and cons, fiscal philosophy, and so on. I got, "Well, it's your money." It was better than any outcome I had even dared to hope for.
So, I called the seller back and we agreed to $3500. It was arranged that I'd sell the Skylark back to my dad for a little less than what I bought it for. We went and picked up the Monte Carlo on Sunday, August 23rd, the day before I was supposed to drive back to school.
My dad drove me over there, I paid with a check, the seller had a contract written up on a piece of paper torn out of a spiral notebook. That's about all I remember about the actual transaction. The seller also said he'd just changed the alternator. Probably not a great sign, but I didn't much care. I was getting a Chevy.
My dad followed me home, and we were into La Grange, a couple of miles from home, when the engine died. That was when I first found out what a 1972 Monte Carlo drives like with no power steering and no vacuum-assist brakes. I wrestled it to the curb and my dad pulled over behind me. At this point, I did not feel good.
I think my dad had to be thinking I had just bought a junker, and maybe even kicking himself for not talking me out of it. But one of the many things I admire about my dad is his ability to put those kinds of things aside when I problem comes up, and just focus on finding a solution.
We popped the hood and poked around, or I probably mostly watched my dad poke around. The fuel gauge was close to "E," and the best guess after looking around was that the car had run out of gas. Dad went home to get a gas can, and I stayed to wait with the car. As Dad drove off, I got in the car, shut the door, and when I went to rest my arm on top of the door, I accidentally pushed the lock down. I remember thinking that it seemed uncomfortably metaphorical, locking myself into this car that wouldn't run.
It felt like forever, but eventually Dad came back with some gas. Somehow, the car re-started, and I was able to drive it home. I don't remember for sure, but we must have had to jump it. It made it the couple of miles back to the driveway, and when we got it home, we popped the hood and started looking around again. I didn't hardly know what I was looking at, but somehow I found a plug hidden under the heater hoses that had not been plugged into the alternator. The car had died because it was running off the battery and it had run the battery dead. I plugged it in, we jump-started the car, and my dad followed me as I drove it down to Joliet and back, to road test it and charge the battery.
I was back on top of the world. I had survived my first breakdown, I had found the problem and fixed it myself, and I now owned a 1972 Monte Carlo. I named her "Bertha," after a Chevy that Darrell Waltrip raced in the late 1970s.
So, that was the beginning of my story with Bertha. Over the next 14 years, I would enjoy over 100,000 miles with Bertha, with not a whole lot more than routine maintenance and upkeep. I have learned so much since I bought that car, and I learned a lot of it from working on that car. I think that car was, without a doubt, the best purchase I ever made.
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