Colin Stops in Anaconda Montana

Still tired from our visit and mentally lacking the ability to write anything coherent about it, I thought maybe we should just unabashedly crib Colin's own post over at the IAC forum. What follows are his unedited words and pictures, with any remarks in italicized color.


What a delightfully beautifully bizarre day it was, everything was off in some glorious way. Such a peaceful start, too:

I started our appointment by backing the BobD into Gertie's front bumper [True story. I wish I'd've taken a video of it. (No damage done, btw.)]. The whooooole family is out to welcome my arrival and I bash into their beloved Volkswagen Squareback?? "Gimmee coffee NOW".
Ludwig's engine is on a stand:

Here's Mitch when he was still frisky:

We have to put the dual carbs and the exhaust system on. Well you just know there are details details details details. How about wiring the engine a la Road Warrior?

Sure it looks easy to have an engine upside down on a stand, but getting the exchangers onto the studs on a stand is like trying to dead-lift barbells on a trampoline:

As we are tenderly ministering to this great car, the sounds of war are building up in the background. Just this senseless stream of explosions and pops and whistles. Smoke is in the air. As we try to address the thousand and one details, our poor minds are being barraged by this "holiday" of war sounds. A huge High-Lift Macho Pickup thunders by with its big truck dual exhaust stacks. It is Manly. The paisley along the sides looked thimply fabulouth with the driver's cowboy hat. BOOM! goes another blast. Whatever we were thinking has been blown up too. pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-tattattattattat beeeeeerrrrrm whiiiiiiiir bam! That is the soundtrack of this old mining town celebrating our Nation's independence, a re-enactment of war with hotdogs and parades. While Mitch and I are trying to torque down intake manifolds and get balance pipes through BAM! front tins and align the misfitting rear tin and pop pop pop pop pop pop get the front tin over the engine stand's invasive supports, there is now a screaming siren parade whheeeeeoooooo whheeeeeooooooo whheeeeeeeeoooooo blare blare blare blare firetruck flatulence, the firemen are going nuts somewhere like a bunch of kids, "Mitch, do you have wire and terminals?" whheeeeeoooooo whheeeeeooooooo whheeeeeeeeoooooo blare blare blare blare "What?"  "Mitch, we need a separate circuit for the cut-offs,"whheeeeeoooooo whheeeeeooooooo whheeeeeeeeoooooo blare blare blare blare "What?"  
The cacophony of revelling is a counterpoint to the many many many little fires we are trying to put out as we discover a fuel pump with too big nipples for our 5mm fuel hose and try to engineer a trick mounting of same on the back of the transaxle quite like a monkey riding riding an elephant, did I mention BAM! and rawrrrrr we have new fireworks out there that sound like .... as Mitch would put it, like someone violating a cat. As we install the engine and transaxle with not 1/4" to spare under the apron with the car teetering on a 4X4, the grand finale begins to ramp up The Mosquitoes Are Here! (and The Nation Celebrates With Explosives) We celebrate with wrenches and a dousing of Deet repellent that makes us smell like a chemical plant's first date. And I declare I will not leave until this Ludwig runs. "Is it really 9:30PM, my mouth tastes like repellent?"  And, "is it really 1:15AM we still have to put on the muffler?" And, "is it really 3:15AM? damn it's chilly, but at least it is QUIET NOW." And yep, there are more, "is it really 4:06AM?" I think we started the engine around then. And . . . . . . . . . "is the sky getting light, what is that oil pouring out under the valve cover?" We're not done yet, "wow, it is 5:30AM! Remember to retorque the exhaust nuts."

Here is Mitch misfiring at 5:15AM I think it was a spark plug install after oil pressure cranking:

Here is Colin misfiring at 5:17AM, I was blacking out in little waves:

You all, Melissa was with us through it all. Through it ALL. She even installed the muffler around 3:30AM or so. Thank-you, Melissa [Thank you from me too. And Tater Tot.]. These guys are tougher than nails. If it ain't snowing all over my sorry ass when I visit them, it is Baghdad Bomb Blasts, but it is all about the adventure, isn't it? 

Departed Anaconda Montana at 5:30AM to Spokane Washington along a beautiful road, very very very tired:

Good night. Heck. Good morning.