History When you were young and Gung ho

I swapped out a munched 4.88 3rd member on the side of Hastings Street just past Hastings and Boundary, in front of a laundramat, hung over, at about 9am on a Sunday morning. Steep hill there, made things interesting. Street racing is so much FUN...

 

Moved a SBF long block with intake about 15' once, by straddling it, hooking my fingers in the exhaust ports and shuffling. I look back and wonder how I ever did some of that shit...

 

When I first bought my 32 coupe back in 1975 I must have been a lot stronger than I recall because I remember building it in a rickety garage with no lift or come along. I removed the coupe body by myself by lifting up on the inside of it and walking it off of the frame. I tried that last year with my 34 truck cab and ..nah, that sumbitch is heavy! Now its all I can do to lift myself off the couch. Getting old sucks worse than I thought it would.

 

1967 I pulled the torqueflite outa my Dodge to change clutch clearances and return springs 3 times in one day! Now it would be 1 time in 2 weeks.

 

Its in an OT car, but....

Back when I was going to college (late 1990's) I had a completely trashed 80's Firebird. 305 with a 5 speed. I was also broke as the day is long (sadly, that hasn't really changed)

Anyway, my battery had just about had it, and my starter decided to go out at about the same time. Couldn't afford either. So I had to push start it to get it going. Pushing a heavy Firebird down your street by yourself, and then running and jumping inside to pop the clutch is a great way to start the day.

Since I didn't want to do that twice a day, every day at school I would park on the roof of the parking garage, lined up with the ramp that led down to a lower level. Yep, I got about 2 tries to get it started before it was too late. (which meant slamming into a Corolla or something at parked at the bottom of the ramp) Fun times.

Getting gas was an adventure too. I put up with that for almost 2 months.

 

I borrowed my brother's '58 Ford pickup to move my stuff from the Bay Area up to Eureka a couple of days before Christmas, about 30 years ago. I was pulling a small trailer ('33 Willys axle -thanks, Dad!) and had both that and the truck piled high with all my worldly goods. Went into a long R.H. sweeper on 101 outside of Ukiah, and the inboard axle walked out of the housing, cleared the fender opening, and passed my peripheral vision as it crossed in front of me on a diagonal, rolled down through the median, crossed oncoming lanes with NO traffic in sight, went up the embankment, and hit a chain-link fence.

While this was happening, the weight of my load, my speed, and the curve I was on were keeping the truck more-or-less upright. The first clue I had that the axle was mine was when the truck slammed to the pavement, riding on the heavy rear bumper.
I hit the brakes. No brakes. I pulled the e-brake. Slack. I slid along for a bit, and then steered onto the paved shoulder (nice highway!). As I sat in the cab, collecting my thoughts, I noticed a Winnebago in the rear-view pull in behind me. This heavy guy in Bermuda shorts and a golf shirt (remember, this is December) jumps out of the R.V. and runs around to the passenger side of my truck. I get out and go around back, just in time to see him finish putting out the grease fire on what's left of the backing plate. Before I can thank him, he says "Merry Christmas", and scoots back to the Winnie, where I see a whole family crowded into the front, watching. He takes off.

I go and recover my axle/drum/wheel ass'y. from its resting place and roll it back to the truck.

Then, after a few minutes of thoughtful contemplation (@#$%*@*), I decide to leg it into town and see what I can find... 20 minutes later I'm riding in the cab of the nastiest wrecker I've ever seen on a road, with a guy and his kid (maybe 8 years old) who were out Christmas shopping. He offers to tow my rig to his WRECKING YARD for the night, and he's pretty sure there's a '58 or so with the parts I need to get back on the road. And there's a motel across the street from his place, where I get a room and a good night's sleep.

Next morning, which is Christmas Eve Day, I see that it has snowed the night before. I go across to the yard, which is actually closed, the guy lets me in, I go to my truck and get my Dad's old tool box (he was an aircraft mechanic in his younger days, thanks again, Dad), and get directions to the parts truck waaaay back in the yard, in the snow. I find three trucks like mine, but they are completely picked over, EXCEPT for one which still has JUST the right side backing plate, complete with brake shoes, and the brake line I need.

Three hours later I am back on the road, and I make it to Mom's for dinner with the family!

New Years Day I am headed back south, and the bearing for the two-piece driveshaft starts to squeal, so I pull off the Highway into a Chevron station in Ukiah (!). The kid there puts it on the rack and pumps some grease into the fitting, and the noise goes away. As he's working, I tell him about my last visit to his town, and how the wrecking yard fella helped me out and just charged me for the parts, not the tow.
He say, "I know that guy, and he's the meanest son-of-a bitch you'll ever come across. I can't believe he helped you!"

Mele Kalikimaka, everybody, and thanks for the wonderful stories I've been reading from you people over the years.

-Ed Anderson, "The Kalaheo Kid"

 

Nothing as good as any of you. Changed out alternator, battery and all cables for a girl in college. Rusty ass little toyota POS. Cold as hell, wind blowing at my back and only a handfull of tools.

She sure was a looker though. Wish I'd stayed in touch....

 

When I got out of the Army and got a job at the Lorain Assembly plant in 1962 I bought a used 62 Chevy with 17,000 miles on it. A six cylinder automatic. My wife said I would not be happy with it. She was right. Then a fellow on the assembly line had a 62 Super Sport 327 and 4 speed, buckets seats.. It was going to be repo. He told me for 75 bucks I could swap anything off it for my 62 six cylinder. He drove the car over to my garage and a few buddies came to help me. first we change the motor, tranny , shaft rear end. then the bucket seats, center con sol, carpet. bumpers and god knows what else. We took the Chevy back to him and later I heard the Finance Co. was really pissed off with him. laid low about this. But never heard any more about it. Boy was I happy now with my car. I even got his Super Sport Hub Caps. One had to watch there was a lot of hot stuff always for sale there. Had a chance once to buy a 45 Tommy Gun that was super hot for 200 bucks. Then there was a safe that was for sale that was not open. Never did hear what was in it. There was a few rough fellows there.

 

My brother blew the eng. & trans. in his 51 ford, so we borrowed a block and tackle from a neighbor and hung it from a tree out back.
Pulled the motor and tranny as one. slid the next tranny and motor under the block, pulled it up and pushed the car front, couldn't stop its momentum and put the tranny tail shaft thru the windshield.

 

my 12th birthday, my dad bought me a 312 t-bird engine.I tore that engine all apart,and puti back together a couple of times,before I was able tomake enough money mowing lawns to buy the parts to completely rebuild it.dad and I set it up on a tire on the garage floor coffee can full of gas .fired it up,my first engine.sold it to a guy across the street,got put into a mandella ski boat

 

2 stories

I was visiting a friend at University, and we on our way back from watching the drags, when my intake gasket let go on my 81 Olds (yeah I know OT car). I replaced the intake gaskets in front of a parking meter at the University...... picture hundreds of University students walking by my giant pile of parts strewn all over the grass with puzzled looks on their faces. (it still had ALL of it's pollution control hoses, and wires etc. for it's computer controlled carb)

Another time, I wanted to get to a local show with my 53 Gmc pickup. After work, I had to pull an engine out of a chev van first, then pulled in y truck with a bad engine, and pulled that engine, then pulled in my donor car and pulled that engine and put it in my Gmc for the next day. So total of 3 engine pulls and 1 install and some small misc stuff that night.

I can't do late, long nights well anymore.

 

Awesome thread!

No snow/tranny story but...

I got really fast at swapping 4 spd trannies in and out of my Vega when I was in high school. Power shifting ALL the time is kind of hard on those things. I might have exhausted the supply of those transmissions in the Denver area.

 

About 20 years old, and a good friend had an MG TD with a tired engine. Neither of us had an engine hoist (or the funds to rent one). And the TD engine comes out MUCH easier with the transmission attached.

Long story short; the two of us lifted the engine/transmission combo out of the engine bay. Since there was no hand hold on the back of the engine, we left the transmission attached, and carried the engine/transmission combo down a set of steep stairs into his basement for disassembly and rebuilding. My back still remembers that journey.

Jon.

 

Great stories guys...... lets hear a few more!

 

My older brothers carried a spare tranny in the trunk of the 56 Ford Dad bought them. Roll backs from reverse to first made them change it on the spot. 7 transmissions in 6 months was the story. Bad part for my brother was memories of junking a spotless Ford...for the transmission. Worse part I remember when the car fell off the jack on him, pinning him to the ground. Best part was my uncle just happened drive up for a visit...He remembers getting a strange feeling he needed come up to the house.

 

I cant tell you how much I like your post as it brought back memories. I did the same thing under a 39 Studebaker coupe. I was working on the tranny and clutch linkage but fell asleep. My mom came and woke me up.

 

In 1969, I was going to school at Iowa State, in Ames, and I had a 59 Corvette with a hot 292 (283 bored .060). It started running bad, and it turned out, I had one piston with broken rings. It was my only transportation, so I tore the engine down, in the car, laying on my back under the car, car on concrete blocks, parked along the street, in February in the snow. As I recall, it was about 200 degrees below zero.

I walked the 3 miles to the machine shop and back to get one new forged piston pin-pressed onto the rod, replaced it with new rings, screwed it all back together, and it ran fine. It helps when you don't know any better.

 

I changed a locked up oil pump and rolled in new bearings in my then 302 powered f1 on a work night in the snow. I didn't run it long though as I never trusted it since it was assembled under duress. I built a stroker motor a few months later

 

In 1979 I was working for Leggitt Motor Rebuilding in Decatur GA. A man comes in driving a rented U Haul truck and said his motor home broke down on the side of the expressway. He bought a rebuilt engine and 2 days later drove up in the motor home to return the core. When he told the whole story it was something to hear. He walked to the exit and rented the U haul and an engine hoist then got the engine from us and did all the work by himself as cars flew by at 70 mph. The whole time his wife was in the motor home making him lunch or dinner and chasing parts or tools as needed. I would have loved to seen this take place.


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what a great thread......brings back a lot of memories

 

Used to do side work in my garage to support my drag racing habit & not dip into my regular paycheck. Replaced a timing chain in a sbf one nite. It wasn't in the snow but I think it was the same 200 below nite that was mentioned earlier.