SoCal VWs

Ugly wheels, cool tires.

P'burg and (Almost) Back

Oil leak fixed, we gassed up to take Ludwig on another shortish highway run and met another ACVW. This guy had just pulled his "wife's" (you guys with your justifications for driving chick cars) Ghia out of his garage after it'd sat there all Winter. We chatted briefly and I was reminded just how ludicrously small KGs are, inside and out.

Ludwig powered over Georgetown Pass (aka Flint Creek Pass) and down into Philipsburg where we thought we'd check out the local thrift store. The windshield wipers have apparently given up the ghost (again), so we Rain-Xed the windshield. 

We promised Esmé a playground awaited her in P'burg, but it was thundering and sprinkling so she was, perhaps wisely, wary of being out. Or maybe she just thought I was gonna put her in jail.

The drive back over the pass into the Warm Springs Creek valley was uneventful until a few miles outside of town when Ludwig started having a terrible rough running fit. I managed to get him into the SafeWay parking lot about twelve blocks from our house. We thought we'd give him a rest so we went inside for victuals.

But when we came back out, he still wouldn't start. He's always had a hot starting issue (it's a wiring thing), but I thought we'd waited long enough. Unfortunately, the standard clutch popping went unrewarded. Defeated, we walked home. Hey! At least he didn't leak any oil!
I went back that evening after E was in bed and he fired right up. But what was that terrific stumbling that'd driven us to the grocery store in the first place?

View P'burg and (Almost) Back in a larger map

Next: It gets worse.

Not Acceptable

Contrary to one of the more idiotic articles of received 'wisdom' about them, it's not just a matter of course that old V-dubs leak oil.

So the English language's considerable body of profanity came up short when I tried to express my feelings toward the 20W-50 dripping from Ludwig's hours-old engine.

After much cleaning and driving to determine the source of the offense, it was determined to be at or around the oil pump's cover plate. (Cover plate? Type IV oil pumps are basically NLA, so Ludwig has a Type I oil pump--disappointingly, a common enough modification--which requires the fitting of a cover plate.)

The fan housing needs to come off to get at the plate to reseal it. I was advised that all this--fan housing removal and oil pump cover plate replacement--could be done with the engine in the car. Indeed, as our experience shows, it can be done with the engine in the car. But the sense of 'can' in this case is about the widest sense of the word; it 'can' be done in that it doesn't violate a law of logic. However it nearly violates several laws of physics. Anyone finding themselves in a similar situation is hereby issued this caveat: Take. The engine. Out.

Esmé took the above few pictures, incidentally. She took this one because she (allegedly) didn't know I'd put this taillight back on, and was happy it was back.

There's the leaker: that lower left nut.

Seriously: Take. The engine. Out.

Amazingly, we were able to get it back together and it doesn't leak [knocks on wood]. In other words, two amateurs, under less-than-ideal conditions and while attending to their three year-old, were able to do what our very experienced and highly regarded engine builder with his trained staff and perfect workspace couldn't (or rather, didn't). That's not bragging--it's infuriating.


Next: Even more problems! Yay!

SoCal VWs

Trip 4

Tater Tot and I are doing the best we can to help get this new engine ready for big road trips. The other day we took Ludwig to Fairmont Hot Springs Resort and Spring Hill.

 Fairmont has a pretty cool playground, even if the depiction of our solar system is disappointing.

Here's their wildlife zoo (that's what they call it), there's goats, ponies, ducks and a llama. Tater likes it alright.

 Anaconda smoke stack in the distance.

Here's the spring where people fill up on water from all around. We parked here for about 15 minutes before turning around, and there was a steady flow of people coming to tank up on water. The guy in the photo got no less than 20 gallons, and from the county on his license plates he lives about 100 miles from here.

Next up: dealing with what's inside this package from Rocky Jennings Enterprises. It was delivered to our house right after Tater and I got home from our drive. Did we forget to mention? He sold us an engine with an oil leak.

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(miles 23416-23462)

Insectivorous

Esmé, upon exiting Ludwig and contemplating his "nose" for some time at close range: 

"There sure are a lot of dead animals on there."

Volkswagens of Santa Barbara

This was taken in the parking garage of the outdoor mall where I discovered that $600 pairs of sweat pants existed. Sweat pants. Six hundred dollars. Welcome to Southern California, please check your brain at the door.

Dear air-cooled Volkswagen owner,
Don't affix scoops or any other louvreishness to your air-cooled Volkswagen, please. 
Signed, 
Your air-cooled Volkswagen.

Caught

The other day Melissa and Tater Tot had a surprise waiting for me when I got home from work.

A real Westfalia child's cot!

We actually got some time ago. It didn't quite fit, and we were thinking about how to deal with it when the crankshaft snapped and suddenly it didn't seem very important. 
The crossbars' length varied through the years and this one is (apparently) incorrect for a '74. What to do, what to do. Get the right one? Nah, too much of a pain. Reposition the mounts in the cabin? Well, we try not to drill holes into Ludwig unless it's really worth it. Make everyone else's original Westy cots worth a little more by having the crossbars cut and lengthened on ours (i.e., destroying it)? Sure.


Esmé informed us she won't be sleeping on it until she gets bigger, "like four". And that until then, she'll play cards and dominoes on it.

Trips 2 & 3

A couple days ago, we took Ludwig on a more normal highway run to get a feel for what's going on aft. The only real town you can get to from Anaconda on a flat road is Deer Lodge, so off we went.

We promised E a surprise at the end, a different playground. We also went to the William K. Kohrs Memorial Library, which was really nice. Esmé read ten books (I mean, had them read to her).

Both of us felt something was off as we drove him, but it was difficult to pin down due to the ridiculous wind bearing down on us. Today we fiddled around some more and cleared up the problem: the new accelerator cable is too long, so even when fully engaged with the throttle crossbar, a floored pedal didn't open up the carbs all the way. Solution: bend the stop tab on the pedal flat. 

With that squared away, we drove him up Mill Creek Pass. Contrary to everything I strive to be, I am still a pretty superstitious person so taking Ludwig up the road that he'd been on only minutes before the death of the last engine four hundred seventy-odd days ago made me a little nervous. But, it was the road Melissa chose. He performed admirably in getting us into the Atlantic watershed. 


See that nice field of purple wildflowers in the distance? I wanted to see the countryside I'd been missing for the past six months or so sans vehicles. We've rented cars to get places, but never just for sightseeing. Besides, the view never looks quite as nice out of non-ACVW windows (if you own an ACVW, you know I'm not making this up). 

But don't look too triumphant yet, Ludwig.

My optimistic nature has been steadily draining away, I think due to a combination of a series of let-downs from the people we've paid good money to get us quality parts/repairs over the past year, and wondering if we would get back in to our bus before Winter closes in on us again (the first frost comes in August in these parts). Getting out of town and starting to get a feel for how very different this engine is from the last is very, very exciting. Things are definitely starting to look up.

(miles 233,346-233,387)

Ludwig Gets Knocked Down, But He Gets Up Again

After a morning and early afternoon of adjustments rendered him truly drivable, we took Ludwig out for the new engine's break-in. Oil? Check. Central idling circuit? Check. Clutch pedal play? Check. Accelerator pedal play? Still kind of screwy.

Tater Tot? Check.

Me looking like a hunched-up freak? Check.

Success, I suppose. Predictably, I felt as though several things were more or less off while Melissa thought it felt 'better' and commented on how much quieter he is now. 

View Ludwig's New Engine's First Drive in a larger map

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.

T-minus 10 Hours

Only ten hours left until Colin comes and shows me everything I'm missing and/or did wrong.

High Koo?

...and we're happy to be a part of it. We'll let Big Blue's Driver do the explaining, here.