Date: Mon, 04 Dec 1995 18:45:00 -0800 (PST)
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From: "Maher, Steve (SD-MS)" <SMAHER@PO2.GI.COM>
Subject: V6anagon Trip: Day 1 (continued) /L
Bob Hufford and I went directly from the Springfield airport to the PO's
house. It was dark, and we nearly missed it. Got out, met the PO finally
after months of phone conversations, and we turned our attention to the
van (can I call it a bus? Or is that for splitties and bays only?).
It looks pretty decent, far better than "good condition" (sorry, Bob
Hoover). Very straight, virtually no rust except for a few minor dots
here and there. Interior looks complete, once we get the middle seat
out of his garage. Rear tires nearly new, fronts pretty worn, as the
PO had told me weeks earlier.
Tie rod boots are split open, duct-taped, and split again. A yank
on the left tie rod makes the rack itself (the long part inside the
rack&pinion housing) move slightly fore and aft, in addition to the
end-to-end movement it's supposed to have. I guess this means the rack
is indeed shot, as the PO has told me from the beginning.
The engine compartment is novel-looking, as one might expect. The
teensy 2800 V6 looks positively cute, albeit with some crude-looking
wiring and throttle return spring. A few oil stains-- obviously some
leaks (as the PO had said), but we VW'ers are used to that. PO said
it leaks maybe a quart every 1,000 miles, and I told him that that
doesn't even qualify as a leak in my book.
Edelbrock foam-type air cleaner on top of the Holley 2-barrel carb.
It sticks up about six inches above the rear deck, and the PO has
done a commendable job of cutting a hole in the hatch and building a
wooden box on top of it to cover the new engine. Both the VW and the
Chevy started life with fuel-injection systems-- the CA smog people
are gonna love this.
On the ground near the barn, are some extra goodies-- the exhaust
and catalytic converter from the Citation that donated the engine, two
spare tires plus another wheel, some misc. ducting, and a tow hitch
assembly, custom-made to fit this car's custom-made engine mount brace
and frame.
Finally time for the good part-- starting it. Has to be jumped, but
then fires right off and settles down into a smooth idle. The ignition
switch is hosed, but the PO made a neat installation of an amber
toggle switch right next to the gas-heater knob (gas heater is long
gone, tho). This is now the ignition switch, and lights up when you
flip it on.
With the engine running, we bend over with a trouble light for our
first look-see-- and carefully back away. The fuel pump isn't just
dripping, as the PO had said-- it is *spouting* raw gasoline all over
the engine block, from a hole in the bottom of the muffin that's
supposed to be an air vent. We shut it down and do some head-scratching.
PO says he drove it for about three weeks like that-- no fireball yet,
obviously. Hmmmm. Glad I brought that spare (new) fuel pump.
Sometimes the engine doesn't want to run. The PO says that it has
been that way recently, and is evidently because of a year's worth
of dirt etc. making poor contacts in the fuse box. We roll several
of the fuses in their holders, and the problem goes away. The engine
seems to run quite well, with a throaty, raspy sound reminiscent of
the Hemi owned by your local High School BMOC once upon a time.
We step inside, do the paperwork, and the V6anagon is mine. Load her
up (getting nippy, Hufford is shivering a little, but as encouraging
and supporting as ever). It's nearly midnight by now. Another jump
start, I settle into the driver's seat (is this the only Vanagon in
captivity with a complete set of corduroy upholstery?), and find that
I have to use both feet on the accelerator pedal to get the engine to
speed up.
The PO reiterates that he believes we're only getting maybe half the
travel from the Holley's throttle arm. I guess privately that that's
all we need-- the engine is way overcarbureted. The throttle cable
and guide tube is extremely crude, and probably a major contributor
to the stiffness of the throttle. That plus the two (count them, two)
return springs, needed to counteract all that built-in friction and
close the throttle, add up to a LOT of force needed to make it go
zoom. Maybe 30 pounds on the accelerator pedal, continuously for
three days. We agree to head for a gas station, fist thing.
Hufford jumps in his Vanagon, I back out, trying not to think about
that fuel pump imitating a lawn sprinkler back there, and we pull onto
the roadway and start off. Bob is patient as I cajole and nudge and
curse and finally STOMP on the gas pedal, and the V6anagon blasts off
like a rocket. Shift to second, and try to find a happy medium-- there
isn't one-- as Bob leads me down the road. The shifter is very stiff--
probably from sitting so long, the grease must look like Silly Putty
by now. Half a mile later, we come to a stop sign. Bob proceeds, I pull
up, and the engine conks out.
Hit the key, and the engine won't crank, not even a little. That old
battery must REALLY be dead. I get out, letting the van roll backward
down the hill, put in reverse, and pop the clutch. Engine turns over,
but no joy. Second attempt, nada. Bob comes back, and we talk it over.
That amber switch on the dash is still lit up, meaning (I think) good
juice to the coil (just not enough for the starter too).
We decide it's out of gas. It was way low when we first got there, and
the fuel pump is spraying far more than it's feeding to the carb. Bob's
encouragement never misses a beat, and he suggests we head for the local
all-night truck stop about 4 miles away. We roll the van backward into
the lot of a (closed) gas station, and take off. Anyone who finds that
van right then, gets a prize-- overall good condition, no license plate,
and a signed-off title in the glove compartment.
Get to the truck stop, borrow a five-gallon clear plastic milk jug
(I think), fill it, and head back. First attempt at filling the van
results in a puddle even bigger than the one previously made by the fuel
pump. Thank you, EPA unleaded restrictor (along with a good dose of
Maher clumsiness). Finally make a paper funnel and get most of the gas
in the tank. Get my jumper cables out of the suitcase, hook up to Bob's
battery, hit the key, and the engine turns vvveeerrrrryyyy slowly.
Back off,let it sit for a while to charge, but same result. It's now
about 1 AM, and Bob is undoubtedly wondering what kind of crackpot he's
fallen into the company of, but his helpful demeanor never flags.
We back off a little to regroup, and head for Bob's house to exchange
his Vanagon for another car less in need of a tune-up. It's a 10-20 mile
drive each way, but Bob acts like this stuff is his favorite activity
in life, and we roll happily along. Try to jump the van from his new
car, same result. We pow-wow again, and finally we're off the the
all-night Wal-mart Supercenter, for a new battery and miscellaneous stuff.
We get back, and the battery is too tall. Ordinarily no big deal-- I
always put oversized batteries in old cars-- but this van has the world's
shortest ground strap. Only by leaning the battery forward about 45
degrees, can we get the strap onto the terminal. Flip on the amber
ignition switch, hit the key, and it fires on the first crank and
settles down to that sweet, smooth idle it had before. It's now about
2:30 AM.
Off we go, Bob leading. About two miles down the road, the van quits cold
again. I flash the headlights at Bob, who stops immediately as I coast
up to him. The amber switch is no longer lit up, I notice, although
still in the ON position. Bob suggests more bad contacts in the fuse box.
We roll the fuses, and the amber switch comes back on. I hit the key, and
the switch goes out. Roll them again, it comes on, I hit the key, and it
starts instantly.
At this point, Bob suggests I abandon my plan of going to a motel for
the night, and sack out on his couch. I know this can cause family strife,
after he has already been bending over backward and giving incredible
amounts of help to an ill-prepared stranger. But I give in with little
argument. He has to be at work early the next day (well, that same day
by now). But he is nothing but completely accommodating.
I follow him home, leaving a trail of gasoline, oil, and dry leaves on
the road behind me, and notice a pronounced wheel shimmy around 62 mph.
The gearshift handle also has a strange, harsh vibration around 25 mph
in third, but in no other gears. The good news: once I put my foot
sufficiently into the accelerator, this sucker BOOKS. A firm, solid push
in the seat of the pants, accelerating up past the shift points on the
speedo, even in third and fourth gears. Quite a novel feeling in a VW van,
far more pronounced than any I have ever driven, including my old '69
with the Weber.
Everyone is finally sacked out by about 3:30 AM--- the end of Day 1 of
the V6anagon trip.
Steve Maher smaher@gi.com
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