...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.