Date:         Wed, 14 Jun 1995 01:02:44 GMT
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         robb@scsc.shasta.cc.ca.us (Robb Lightfoot)
Subject:      my first adventure


Well, I took my first "shakedown" trip in my 73 Westy. (I used it to
travel about 500 miles one-way to visit my crazy family....)

Anyway, I feel that I'm an official member of the group now as I had a
roadside adventure or two...

On the way down, about 37 miles out, the van suddenly deaccelerated and
died. Thank god it was daylight and the road was wide enough to get off.
I could smell gas, and I found that the copper line had popped out of my
fuel pump (a 73 IV, under the car.) I jammed it back on and got back on
I-5 near Red Bluff. Two miles later, it happened again. So, this time I
got some wire and WIRED the thing on by lashing it to the pump.

Oh, the cleverness of me.

Now, we're making pretty good steam. Traveling at 70-75 mph loaded to
the gills. Funny thing was the gas mileage seemed a little low at about
15 mpg. Must have been the speed.

We go along, and it gets a tad chilly. I go to use the heater, and it
about stinks me out with gas fumes. Drat, must be leaking a little, yet.
Oh, well, those in the car who are awake (6 in all, about half of us
asleep....) put on blankets.

We get into Fresno at 1 a.m. to take on fuel. I pay for the stuff and
walk out to see a puddle stretching from rearwheel to rearwheel and
about half way up to the front of the car. Uh-oh. I look under and see
that it's pretty wet under there.

So, I make a decision (the second stupidist one on the trip, as we'll
see). I reason  A. it has made it about 300 miles with no problem  B.
I'd have to wake up most of the sleeping children to work on it or stop
and get a room  C. I don't have a lot of money to deal with this now.
SO, we move on.

Wonder of wonders, we arrive in Bakersfield at about 2:30 a.m.

The next day I look under it again, doesn't look so bad. I resolve to
buy another pump as soon as possible. I drive about 10 miles to visit
another disfunctional relative. I get there, and man oh man, the puddle
under the car is HUGE. Definintely not drivable anymore, a wonder we
weren't all incinerated.

I park the thing, and my dad takes me to a local parts shop. Choices are
A. $40 for a Brazlinian pump  or B. $150 for a German pump. Well, I
can't afford either, so I opt for the Latin American flavor. (Oh, yeah,
"C" is $300 for a dealer-supplied German pump. Guess it was a tough
choice, huh?) Turns out that buying Brazlian was the third stupidist
decision I'd make on this trip.

I call the dealership and get a flat rate to get an idea of how hard it
will be to change the pump. $55, one hour, subject to inspection. What
does "subject to inspection" mean? It means, they say, "if it has air or
some other accessories, it could be more. Well, I don't have air or
anything other than the westy setup. So, I figure, no big deal.

I get back and go under the van in front of dad's house. Man, what a
bugger. The lower bolt, allen headed, is easy to get to , but the upper
one has a piece of tinwork in front of it. Bummer. So, I try to pull the
tinwork. I can get MOST of the nuts off, but one remains "way up there."

I'm due for a meeting with other family members in an hour. So, I decide
to use some force. (No, this isn't the stupidist decision. Stay tuned.)
I pry the tin away enough to get to the upper bolt. But it takes an hour
to change the pump out. Now comes the really stupid decision.

I reason, hey, this fuel line could be 22 years old, probably ought to
change it. So, I buy some new, German fuel line (I splurge  :) ) and
hook it to the new pump. Old pump is still hanging there. I then undoor
the line at the tank, overhead and proceed to have gas go everywhere. I
had expected some, but oh-la-wee. Put new line on, and oh-oh, the work
clamp jams. I try to leave the line on, but the tank is full enough it
blows the new line off. So, I'm laying under the car with a clamp that
won't tighten and a line that I can't get to stay on. Meanwhile, gas is
going EVERYWHERE, running all over me, all over the blank I'm using as a
creeper, down the gutter. I hear cars whizzing by and wonder if anyone
is about to throw a butt out the window. (Remember the scene from The
Great Waldo Pepper? I sure did?!)

All this is going on, and my dad had stepped into the house to get
something. About 20-30 minutes later, he reemerges, horrified (and I
though he didn't like me!) He gets me another clamp. I STILL can't get
it on properly, but at least it allows the host to stay on.

I get out from under the car, I was NEVER so glad to get out of a place,
and we push the car out of the huge puddle.

We manage to get it up partially on the curb to give me more room. About
15 minutes and lots of gasoline later, I get it on tight.

Thank God, I go into the house, shower and change clothes. My skin is
hamburger from having gas on it so long, but I'm glad to be out of the
ordeal.

But the fun isn't over yet. We fire it up and look for leaks. POURING
out of the right carb is a huge gas leak. Ah, yeah, dad. I didn't
actually check to see if it was the PUMP leaking gas. Well, we
tightended the brass nuts on the float bowls on both sides. No more gass
leaks. I prepare to leave to get cleaned up and go to a wedding. My
father looks more worried than I've ever seen him in his life. (I forgot
until later that his father was seriously burned and his kid brother
burned to death.) He offered me a ride back to my sisters....but no, I
trust this big ole van to get me home...

Now I wish I could say that this WAS the end of this story, but it gets
better. We marry my brother off, with whom I barely speak.... And I
proceed to head back upstate, again late at night. (Gotta travel when it
is cool and when the kids sleep.) About 35 miles down the road, the van
begans to cough and sputter. What gives? Probably a batch of bad gas,
couldn't be a NEW pump failing. Pull over, put in some STP and a fresh
tank, pull on the road again. Works fine. Another 35 miles and the van
struggles to do 65. Well, I DO have all that stuff strapped on top. At
50 miles, 85 total out of Bakersfield and almost to Fresno, the van
won't do 55. So, I keep on trucking at 50-45-40-35. We reach Fresno at
25 mph and know we've got to stop.

I rent a room and we get the kids to bed. I can't sleep (wonder why),
then, from deep inside my brain I recall the converstation at the part
house.

Me: What's this little hose here. The extra one.

Parts guy (AKA HIM): Oh, it's a vent.

Me: A VENT?

Him: Yeah, they had some problems with the pump building up pressure and
this is supposed to fix it.

Me: Oh, OK.

So, I go out to the van and dig up the old pump. I get out the toolbox,
find a file and a tube of locktite, and spend the next hour cleaning and
refitting the copper line to the pump. (Squirting gas in my face for
good measure. Seems like I can't get near gasoline without getting a
faceful.)

Next morning, I arise at 6 a.m. and have the new/old pump in by 6:45.
Only a drop (in the eye, ouch) this time.

IT WORKS. No gas leaking. But will I have a power problem (no snickering
I mean any more so than usual?)

Nope. All well.

I now reflect on the difference between a German pump at about $110
extra. I guess the extra cost is due to one small fact. The GERMAN PUMP
WORKS! The kicker is, though, I read the manual AFTER all this, and it
says: "Engine must be pulled in 73-74 ..."  Glad I hadn't read THAT!