Sorry for the lack of posts, not that anyone really has been following, or that there was much to follow anyway. However, while I intended to do more posting, I recently had to do some major facebook status changing from "engaged" to "married." Is it sad that this has been my one status update in over a year? Regardless, getting married takes a lot of work and time. I barely did anything and I was exhausted from it all. Aside from that I have recently lost my reliable internet connection, and am in process of switching providers. All told I haven't been posting regularly; shame, shame.
Anyway, while I haven't been posting, I have been doing some work on the car, and making some progress. As we rejoin our tale, our hero has finished piecing back together the torn fuel delivery system and re-routing the emissions houses, only to find that- the battery is dead! Lucky for our hero, he battery is new and has an 84 mo. warranty. Now, if only he could find the reciept!
Yes folks, my battery had died during the weeks of slow labor without any running/charging off the alternator. When I took it to be re-charged, the folks at O'Reily's told me after 2 hours that it had "deeply dishcarged cells" and could not be charged. (Note this is exactly what the folks at Advance Auto Parts told me after 30 seconds hooked up to their machine, unfortunately I didn't buy it from them, so I had to take it back to O'Reily...wah wah). Never fear, my 84 mo warranty ought to land me a brand spanking new battery in no time. But without the receipt it was a huge ordeal of looking up my phone number, the date of purchase, method of purchase, verifying, checking, re-checking, voiding, crediting, voiding credity, calling india, checking the score of the ball game, and finally giving me my new battery. All in all only a waste of a perfectly good Saturday.
However with my spirit and my Oldsmobile in need of some high voltage shock therapy, I took the battery back, hooked it up, and prayed. The first crank produced nothing. I had however thought there was something else I should try. I cracked open the aersolized bottle of carburetor cleaner, sprayed a stream onto the choke plate, waited 30 seconds, then cranked again.
Wurr, Wurr, WUURRR, BOOOOOM, chugchugchugchugchugchugchug...
Oh what beautiful onomonopoea! Folks, I had a running car. Never mind that it sounded like I was gassing it through the floor boards at the Indy 500. The Delta 88 was alived! I shut it off, cranked it a few more times and satisfied myself that it was indeed running of it's own power, not just carburetor cleaner.
Feeling lucky and wanting to fix the "gas-through-the-floor" high octane juice the beast seemed to be feeding off, I removed the clamp which holds my thermostatic regulator in place and attempted to adjust the Rich/Lean attenuation. This was my first mistake. Next was to put on and hook up the air-filter. Then worst of all I closed the hood. Somehow, this made the car cease to run (though it would still start, simply wind down and stall after 5 seconds or so). Removing the air filter, tweaking the adjuster, and leaving the hood open seemed to get it back to running. At this point I noticed smoke or steam from the rear of the engine compartment and decided to shut it down.
With the mixed blessing of a "running" vehicle I am now waiting to diagnos and fix the problems. There are still hoses and tubes which do not seem properly hooked up or sealed. There are still parts for which I have no name or knowledge of function. And there is still an engine, very much in need of a bath. But as with Zen, I must clear all of this from my mind in order to achieve the true goal of having the Delta 88 rule the highway. There is not success without failure, and too much stimulus clouds the mind. Keep on trucking, until next time.
Thom
Wednesday
Thursday
...And Failure
There will invariably be bumps in any road. No surface is flat (Despite our Euclidian view of the world). Having brought the Delta 88 to its home pro tempore, I began working on the big blue bastard. Here it is, by the way. The first big issue is getting the old girl to crank, since I don't even know what's really wrong with it. As I mentioned before, the battery was completely dead, and unchargeable. First component of the restore, Electricl Systems Overhaul! i.e. a new battery.
I went down to O'Reily, specifically because I know a guy through work who is the assistant manager over there. He comes into the shop all the time and we chit chat about this and that, usually my current car, a '05 Saturn Vue, or my friend's car, a Mazda 2. I hadn't seen him around for a while and thought this would be a great opportunity to employ his business and get his professional help. Unfortunately, I was informed by the General Manager at O'Reily that my professional pal had quit quite suddenly. So much for that.
I purchased the recomended battery, a beefy 12 volt with 660 CCA (cold cranking amps for those of you not in the know). I almost opted for the smaller battery with ~450 CCA but decided that without a real knowledge of what I needed, I had better go bigger than come home to find the battery wouldn't even turn the engine over. I decided that I would save my receipts and total up figures periodically so that I could get an idea of how big a money pit this really is, so totals so far from the beginning:
1979 Delta 88 - $650
U-Haul Truck & Vehicle Transport- $122.31 + $20 in gas
Battery (taxes included)- $106.03
Total: $898.34
Looking at that number is a little depressing, especially considering the car's status is currently: glorified paperweight.
However onward into the belly of the beast! After swapping in the new battery, I heard the most gratifying of sounds when I turned the key...the engine turned! Now it didn't catch, and so of course there wasn't really much to celebrate yet, but to know that the starter worked and didn't need to be replaced was a relief in itself; as I said, I bought the car without a great examination of it's capabilities, mostly on taking the seller at his word.
With that feeling of joy that perhaps this won't be too bad after all, I went back under the hood to see if there were any obvious problems. And where to begin? Once the housing for the Air filter was removed, I saw immediately several things wrong with the carburetor. Again, I have NO formal training as a mechanic and only a basic understanding of the internal combustion engine, but when there are 5 vacuum hoses disconnected from the carb, I don't think it's going to work properly. So I hooked up the hoses and gave it another crank. Turn! Boom! Chugga-chugga-chugga...clunk. *Cough* The engine turned, caught, and ran for about 3 seconds. Things just keep looking better. Here, by the way is the carburetor in all its glory.
At this point with everything looking up I suppose you are wondering at the title of this post. Well, to make the rest of the story as brief as possible, I decided that the carburetor was for the most part functioning properly, and at the advice of the Haynes auto manual decided to look elsewhere in the fuel delivery system for the problem, perhaps the fuel pump itself. However, I wanted to get the engine cleaned up a bit just so I could see better what I was doing. So I decided to remove the carburetor, clean it up, and with it off I could better reach the headers and intake manifold. Ah, so simple a job, removing the carburetor. All it requires is two wrenches twisting opposite directions on steel fuel line fitting...which happens to be stuck. During the course of my hour and a half struggle, I managed to tear the line at the fitting, leaking gasoline everywhere, and with bloodied knuckles had to press onward, eventually rippint the fitting right off the line with the wrench in the only effective way of removing the carburetor from the line. I imagine the old fitting may have been a bit rusted, so I don't think anyone else could have done differently. But hey, that's just what I tell myself.
So in the long run, I've just added to my list of projects on the engine. I've added to my learning experience. Now I will know how to remove all the serpentine belt posts, a/c, alternator, and fuel pump, and how to tap and run fuel lines! Learning is fun. Anyway, the car now sits with carburetor removed, waiting for the weekend when I can get some more quality time in with it. I did cheat a little and do some fun day-dreaming however. The color scheme for the car: black, white split vinyl top, and crushed red interior. That's all for now, see you soon.
The Buddha Said: The wind has the power to disturb water and by it to create waves, but if there is no water, the power remains potential and there are no waves...It is just the same with ignorance and mind and discriminating thoughts.
Success!
Upon my return from Ohio a little cardboard box was waiting for me. Inside was the holy grail of auto repair: the Haynes Manual. Armed with this textbook of eternal knowledge and a new resolve to bring my car home, I set out on a quest, enlisting the aid of a friend to retrieve the car. After spending about two hours working with a rental truck company in person I wasn't confident in using their services again. However after three minutes on the company's website, I was able to reserve the equipment I needed. All that remained was to show up.
Showing up right on time for my reservation, with all the confidence and peace of mind of someone who is getting what they want, I was meet with curious stares as no one had any idea of my reservation. Confidence changes quickly to panic. Luckily, Cathy, the owner and operator was a saint with computer, found my reservation, and was ready to upgrade me to a larger truck. Only one problem, the trailer needs a new wheel. Could I come back tomorrow? As me face must have sank lower than a basset hound she quickly mentioned that she could have it ready by 4:30 this afternoon, if I liked. Thank you, Cathy! With major defeat averted, we left to get some lunch and return at the appointed hour.
Cathy had the truck with trailer all hooked up and ready to go, so we piled into our new ride and drove straight south down Highway 11 to Kinston. Three white people in a predominately black neighborhood driving a 14 foot rental truck has got to turn some heads. No one said a word however, and just watched politely from their porches as the three crazy white folks, sweating and cursing, pushed and rolled and shoved an otherwise motionless fixture of front lawn statuary, the delta 88, down the street to get a running start at the trailer ramp.
The first try got our front tires on the trailer, but the back end still hung off the ramp, and no matter how we shoved, we couldn't get the 4500 lb sheer steel beast to the top of the ramp. With sadness, the emergency brake was released and we coasted her back down the ramp. Attempt number two fared not much better, and I remembered Sisyphus and his eternal task. However, though energy reserves were drained, a third attempt was made with a longer running distance. This time the delta 88 soared up the ramp, onto the trailer, and with the momentum of a charging bull-rhino slammed the front wheel stops of the trailer and almost took flight into the back of the truck. Luckily, Liz had the brakes on quickly and we congratulated ourselves on a job, well, done.
The ride back to Greenville was fortunately uneventful, and we easily rolled the car into the driveway to await its first repairs. We returned the truck and after a few cold ones, the nightmare of the immobile care was at last over. A deep feeling of satisfaction had set in, and a bright future lay at the end of this long project. With muscles weary, I headed to bed, knowing that with a weeks worth of work before I could start on the car, the Delta 88 would rest safely for now.
The Buddha Said: People of this world are dependent in their thinking on one of two things: on the notion of being, whereby they take pleasure in realism, or in the notion of non-being whereby they take pleasure in nihilism.
Showing up right on time for my reservation, with all the confidence and peace of mind of someone who is getting what they want, I was meet with curious stares as no one had any idea of my reservation. Confidence changes quickly to panic. Luckily, Cathy, the owner and operator was a saint with computer, found my reservation, and was ready to upgrade me to a larger truck. Only one problem, the trailer needs a new wheel. Could I come back tomorrow? As me face must have sank lower than a basset hound she quickly mentioned that she could have it ready by 4:30 this afternoon, if I liked. Thank you, Cathy! With major defeat averted, we left to get some lunch and return at the appointed hour.
Cathy had the truck with trailer all hooked up and ready to go, so we piled into our new ride and drove straight south down Highway 11 to Kinston. Three white people in a predominately black neighborhood driving a 14 foot rental truck has got to turn some heads. No one said a word however, and just watched politely from their porches as the three crazy white folks, sweating and cursing, pushed and rolled and shoved an otherwise motionless fixture of front lawn statuary, the delta 88, down the street to get a running start at the trailer ramp.
The first try got our front tires on the trailer, but the back end still hung off the ramp, and no matter how we shoved, we couldn't get the 4500 lb sheer steel beast to the top of the ramp. With sadness, the emergency brake was released and we coasted her back down the ramp. Attempt number two fared not much better, and I remembered Sisyphus and his eternal task. However, though energy reserves were drained, a third attempt was made with a longer running distance. This time the delta 88 soared up the ramp, onto the trailer, and with the momentum of a charging bull-rhino slammed the front wheel stops of the trailer and almost took flight into the back of the truck. Luckily, Liz had the brakes on quickly and we congratulated ourselves on a job, well, done.
The ride back to Greenville was fortunately uneventful, and we easily rolled the car into the driveway to await its first repairs. We returned the truck and after a few cold ones, the nightmare of the immobile care was at last over. A deep feeling of satisfaction had set in, and a bright future lay at the end of this long project. With muscles weary, I headed to bed, knowing that with a weeks worth of work before I could start on the car, the Delta 88 would rest safely for now.
The Buddha Said: People of this world are dependent in their thinking on one of two things: on the notion of being, whereby they take pleasure in realism, or in the notion of non-being whereby they take pleasure in nihilism.
Wednesday
Boy meets Car
The Oldsmobile Delta 88 is a whale of a car; big, boxy, and beautiful, especially in the early models. It is the archetype of an entire class of cars with which I have been in love since I began driving. It represents the last of the gas guzzling behemoths which represented true American freedom, and for me, it has been Moby Dick. Okay, perhaps that's a bit much. I have not been relentlessly pursuing the Oldsmobile Delta 88 without regard to my welfare. I am not Ahab. But still, I wanted one.
To my infinite delight, while browsing craig's list for cheap cars for my fiance (a graduate student at ECU), I stumbled across a listing for a 1979 Delta 88, very cheap. The four word description to go along with the price and the picture however rang out an ominous warning bell. IT NEED A CARBURETOR {sic}. I am not a mechanic, and I couldn't tell a push rod from a roller, but I do know that the warning with which the car was bestowed meant this: It doesn't run. Regardless I was interested, and convincing my fiance that it may be a fun project car, I made the 20 minute drive to Kinston to look at the vehicle.
Though the seller was friendly enough, a more accurate description may have been: it needs a carburetor, battery, new rear tire, headliner, vinyl top, and major body sanding and repainting, at least. After several days of negotiations based around these facts, I finally haggled the price down to what I considered reasonable, and purchased the vehicle. The problem is now how to get it here, a problem which has thus far nearly driven me mad.
The Delta 88 must be towed because it is not in running condition. So I figured I would borrow a truck, rent a tow dolly, and tow the car. Simple enough. However, because of the Delta 88's weight, the rental company would not allow me to tow it with the Ford Ranger I had borrowed. The first snarl. Wanting to quickly take over possession of the car, I asked if I could rent one of their trucks to tow the car. Sure thing! Until, hmmm, perhaps the Delta 88 is to heavy for a dolly. And oh no! We have no towing platforms at this location or any other. Unfortunately after wasting 2 hours of my time (1 hour trying to remove their opposable digits from their rectums, 1 hour tracking down their "new" location via some poorly worded directions) they would be unable to assist in my towing needs. I was furious. With no time left before I had to go to work and a 4 day impasse on my ability to do anything (what with the other rental places being closed or at inconvenient hours to my schedule on weekends and a 2 day trip to Ohio coming up) I threw my hands up in disgust and walked away from the project. I did however get one small piece of of the puzzle sorted out. During my four days of removal from the car, I ordered my very own Haynes Manual for the Buick, Pontiac, and Oldsmobile full sized models from 1970 through 1990. Here is where the story rests now. I am in limbo. A car in another town to which I have keys and a title. A man without a truck to tow. Tomorrow may be a better day.
To my infinite delight, while browsing craig's list for cheap cars for my fiance (a graduate student at ECU), I stumbled across a listing for a 1979 Delta 88, very cheap. The four word description to go along with the price and the picture however rang out an ominous warning bell. IT NEED A CARBURETOR {sic}. I am not a mechanic, and I couldn't tell a push rod from a roller, but I do know that the warning with which the car was bestowed meant this: It doesn't run. Regardless I was interested, and convincing my fiance that it may be a fun project car, I made the 20 minute drive to Kinston to look at the vehicle.
Though the seller was friendly enough, a more accurate description may have been: it needs a carburetor, battery, new rear tire, headliner, vinyl top, and major body sanding and repainting, at least. After several days of negotiations based around these facts, I finally haggled the price down to what I considered reasonable, and purchased the vehicle. The problem is now how to get it here, a problem which has thus far nearly driven me mad.
The Delta 88 must be towed because it is not in running condition. So I figured I would borrow a truck, rent a tow dolly, and tow the car. Simple enough. However, because of the Delta 88's weight, the rental company would not allow me to tow it with the Ford Ranger I had borrowed. The first snarl. Wanting to quickly take over possession of the car, I asked if I could rent one of their trucks to tow the car. Sure thing! Until, hmmm, perhaps the Delta 88 is to heavy for a dolly. And oh no! We have no towing platforms at this location or any other. Unfortunately after wasting 2 hours of my time (1 hour trying to remove their opposable digits from their rectums, 1 hour tracking down their "new" location via some poorly worded directions) they would be unable to assist in my towing needs. I was furious. With no time left before I had to go to work and a 4 day impasse on my ability to do anything (what with the other rental places being closed or at inconvenient hours to my schedule on weekends and a 2 day trip to Ohio coming up) I threw my hands up in disgust and walked away from the project. I did however get one small piece of of the puzzle sorted out. During my four days of removal from the car, I ordered my very own Haynes Manual for the Buick, Pontiac, and Oldsmobile full sized models from 1970 through 1990. Here is where the story rests now. I am in limbo. A car in another town to which I have keys and a title. A man without a truck to tow. Tomorrow may be a better day.
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