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The Wanderer

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  • Re: The Wanderer

    continuation.... like the new front bolt?


    I found a rattle


    I may have cheated


    not going back on


    and getting there... not light springs, not light at all

    Doing it all wrong since 1966

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    • Re: The Wanderer

      Been meaning to post this for weeks.....

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0FFtht9k87k

      If this already was posted ....... sorry.

      Dan

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      • Re: The Wanderer

        i'm pretty sure that's where Rick got the title for his stories.
        Doing it all wrong since 1966

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        • Re: The Wanderer

          started to mount the sway bar, then realized I really need to buy some more 3/8 grade 8 bolts... tomorrow for sure


          yesterday was air spring, now air steering


          rear getting there


          I always feel like, somebody's watching me


          cut the ubolts down


          I swear the back spring was harder then the front


          sorting shocks


          so I did it, I pulled the drum off.... 40%, maybe... time to turn the drum and put new pads.... but I do like stopping so it is what it is.


          and good thing I did, passenger side was leaking

          Doing it all wrong since 1966

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          • Re: The Wanderer

            I wish I made progress like you . I think my kids are the hang up . Oh well .
            Previously HoosierL98GTA

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            • Re: The Wanderer

              steering is no longer an air connection


              nor is the sway bar


              shocking development....


              whoa




              new whoa

              front pad is on the bottom - notice how it's shorter?

              thicker pad goes on the back (the longer pad)

              apparently the PO didn't notice that. The driver's side was correct, passenger side not so much

              assembled with go fast stickers on the shocks

              Doing it all wrong since 1966

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              • Re: The Wanderer


                THE WANDERERS #7

                HITTING THE TRAILS WITH UNCLE HOWARD

                By Rick Sieman

                When we last left Carl and Emma, Carl had just won the Monster Truck Shootout at Gravelrama, through a bizarre chain of luck and weird occurrences. We join them now as they continue on to Uncle Howard's place.
                ***
                Carl stuffed a fresh wad of Red Man into his cheek, fiddled with the radio and dialed in a good country station. The sounds of Amarillo Fats and the Moon Mountain Frog Kickers filled the spacious cab of the huge Suburban. One of Carl's favorite songs was on, the lilting "She Left Me For The Circus Geek Blues."

                "Emma, how much more to go 'til we get to Uncle Howard's house anyways?"
                Emma put down her knitting, furrowed her brows and peered at the road map. "Well, about 20 miles if you don't get us lost again."
                "Lost? How often do I get us lost?"
                "Ohh, there was that time in Utah when we had to back up three miles through an abandoned mine to reach the highway, then there was that time in Florida when you drove over that illegal still in the back woods and almost got us shot, then there was ... "
                "Hey, put a lid on it, Emma. I mean lately."
                "Lately? Remember that short cut in Oregon where we had to spend three days sleeping in The Whale until that Ranger showed us the way out? And then ... "
                "Jeez. Never mind, never mind. I just wonder why we have to visit this dumb Uncle of yours anyway."
                "Carl, you know that Uncle Howard is very ill and on his last legs. Aunt Millie says he may not last the year. And he is fami#ly, you know."
                "Emma, that old coot has been dying for the last ten years. And the way he drives, it's amazing he made it past his twenties. Not to mention that lame World War II Jeep he owns. That thing is a death trap! It's got the original shocks from Day One, and I think he only changes the oil every five years or so.
                "Now, Carl The doctors say that driving his Jeep around in the woods is healthy for him. It gets him out into the fresh air."
                "If dear old Uncle Howard would change his life style a little bit, he'll probably live to be 165. Think about it. He sucks down a full quart of Jack Daniels whiskey every day with no mix or ice. Just drinks it out of a long straw so he don't have to take his cigars out of his mouth while he drinks. And how many cigars does he smoke a day? Twenty, is it?"
                "Now dear, he's cut that down to 18 a day."
                "Yeh, but he inhales 'em. Big ugly North Carolina stogies and he inhales 'em. Why don't he just chew some Red Man like I do if he's a tobacco man?"
                "Well, he did that for a while, but Aunt Millie made him quit. He kept spitting on everything ... the grand kids, the chickens, the cat and the poodle, the mail man, the gas meter reader man, that white haired old lady that came around handing out copies of Watch Tower ... just about anyone he didn't like."
                Carl grunted. "Which is most everybody. Your Uncle Howard is the most foul-mouthed irritating person I've ever met. I just hope he doesn't ask me to go trail driving with him again this year. He almost killed us both with that death trap Jeep!"
                Emma sighed. "Calm down, dear. We're almost there and I know Uncle Howard will be delighted to see you again."
                ***
                "Hi'ya, fat boy. See you packed some more lard on that over#loaded frame of yours. You gonna be a Sumo wrestler or something?"
                Carl's eyes narrowed. "Glad to see you again, Uncle Howard. You look great."
                "What are you, a doctor? I don't need a medical opinion from someone with the bad taste to drive a Chevy. Like I say, Chevro#let is a French name, which means it's a French car. I drive a Jeep, a real American car."
                "The Whale is a GMC, not a Chevy, and it's made in America."
                "GMC, Chevy, same thing. You can carve a soup bowl out of a cow pie, but it's still a cow pie underneath. Figured you'd have better taste, but noooooo, you got one a those flashy looking trucks that won't go anywhere. My Jeep might not be pretty, but it'll go places that Walrus of yours won't."
                "Whale. Not Walrus. Whale."
                "Yep, you sure do look like a whale, Carl. We ought to put up a fence around you and charge admission. Call it Blubber Land. you can be Shamu the Chevy driver. Hee, hee."
                Carl's face got very, very red, but Emma poked him in the ribs and he just gritted his teeth.
                "Feel like making a little bet on that, Uncle Howard?"
                "Oh, you got money to bet? Figured by the size of that beer gut that you spent all your spare money on Cheetos and a bucket of lard to dip 'em in. Well, if you want to part with a few green ones, who am I to deny the mentally bewildered of the opportunity to lose their shorts? Twenny bucks, bozo?"
                "Make it forty, Uncle Howard!"
                "Pretty feisty for the Pillsbury Doughboy, ain't ya? Why don't you go all the way and plank down a C-note. A hundred dollar bill, triple chins."
                "You got a bet! See, I got me a 454 under the hood and 22 of the best shocks money can buy. And that 454 ain't stock, not by a long shot!"
                "Modified, huh? Did I ever tell you how to really get perfor#mance out of a 454 motor? It's all in the spark plug, ya know."
                Carl bit. "Spark plug? Howzat?"
                "Easy. Just take out the stock spark plugs, get yourself a set of Champion N2C plugs and screw a Jeep in 'em. Haw, haw! Boy, you went for that like a carp after a worm, chubby."
                The hair on the back of Carl's neck stood up and a large vein started throbbing in both temples. "Okay, Uncle Howard ... let's go for it. Howsa 'bout a nice little 50-mile loop, anywhere you want to drive off-road, and I'll follow you like I was tied to you by a rope."
                "Make it 40 miles, lumpy. I'm an old man. The doc says I gotta sorta watch it." Uncle Howard then fired up a large green cigar the size of a four cell flashlight. "Every two hours I sorta take enough pills to choke a rhino just to keep my heart from explod#ing like wet toilet paper."

                An hour later, after Uncle Howard had eaten six pork chops and soaked up the drippings in a loaf of pumpernickel bread, then inhaled that, too, they headed out of town, with the crusty old Jeep leading the way.
                Emma decided to stay home and knit doilies for Aunt Millie to put under the ceramic doily on top of the TV set. She wanted no part of a trail driving bet between Carl and Uncle Howard.
                ***
                Uncle Howard stopped at the old stone quarry and got out of the Jeep. Carl joined him, eager to do battle.
                "Okee-dokee, bubble butt, here's the rules. I'll take off down that gravel road and end up back here. Now, I'll keep my speed down so's you don't get behind and get lost. When I get to a tough section, I'll wait for you to screw it up, then I'll come back and get you and collect my hundred smackers. If, by some weird chance, you can follow me all the way back here without me having to get your saggy cheeks out a trouble, then you win. Got it, porky?"
                Carl folded his arms over his chest, looked at the skinny-tired Jeep, then glanced at The Whale. It looked good, sporting some serious 40-inch Gumbo Mudders, with lots of ground clearance. In fact, The Whale looked impressive enough to drive right over Uncle Howard's Jeep, like those car crushing monster trucks. The image stuck in Carl's mind and he beamed and smiled.
                "What are you smiling about, pudgy? Let's hit the trails!"
                ***
                Three hours later, Uncle Howard walked into the house, counting a small handful of money, and licking his chops. Behind him was Carl, looking more than a little dejected.
                Emma looked up from crocheting a snowflake the size of a pizza. "Well, did you boys have a nice drive in the woods?"
                Uncle Howard reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table and knocked back a hearty slug. "I did, but I'm not so sure that fatso here did. This here is his hundred smackers that is now mine. But I'm not one to rub it in. Let the loser tell you the sad story. Yuk, yuk."
                Carl slumped in a chair. "He took me through the narrowest trail I ever saw in my life. A dirt bike would have had trouble getting between some of those trees, but that skinny little Jeep just fit in there ... barely. I took half the paint off the side of The Whale trying, but ... "
                "Yup, like I said, chubby, I knew you was doomed the second I saw that big dumb Chevy you was driving. You wanna drive in the real woods, you get a jeep. Now, if you all will excuse me. I gotta take some pills to keep me alive. After all, I'm an old man. An old man who's a hundred bucks richer than he was a few hours ago. Hey, cheer up, fat boy. If I got any of this left when I die, I'll leave it to you in my will. Hee, hee!"
                Emma heard a thumping sound and looked out of the window. Carl was busy putting dents in the left front fender of The Whale with his head. Emma sighed and returned to her crocheting.
                Doing it all wrong since 1966

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                • Re: The Wanderer

                  Man that Uncle Howard is a codgy ol sumbitch ain't he? Lol Ol' Carl just doesn't know when to just give it the hell up haha.
                  SuperBuickGuy likes this.

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                  • Re: The Wanderer

                    My day
                    The first part was successful. Drive 160 miles to pick up one tire.



                    piece of cake, on to the next task... oh wait, why do I smell sewer?
                    The water table as been rising and at this point the drain field is now trying to become my shop.... so I went out and dug a drainage ditch, by hand, in poo. Never, ever use a pick with your mouth open....

                    finished up the rear...


                    onto what should be the easy part... the front.
                    the rotors were shot but 35 bucks and new is ready to install


                    which requires taking the hub off.... honestly, this is a first time it rusted enough that aluminum turned to rust.... but I'm sure the races are pristine

                    hmmm, unless someone has developed a new, coating process for bearings the answer to the above hope would be "oh hell no"


                    that's interesting, the pads aren't wearing evenly....


                    so new bearings and calipers will come tomorrow.... and I'm still spending money on a 10 bolt... I honestly don't know which was worse, poo channels or throwing money at a 10 bolt front diff....
                    Doing it all wrong since 1966

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                    • Re: The Wanderer

                      Throwing money at a 10-bolt - - poo is just poo, and runs downhill.
                      Of all the paths you take in life - make sure a few of them are dirt.

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                      • Re: The Wanderer

                        yes but I've not found a 3.73 geared Dana 44 or Dana 60 - so poo is better then walking.
                        STINEY likes this.
                        Doing it all wrong since 1966

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                        • Re: The Wanderer

                          It would be my observation that, structurally, ten-bolts look much stronger across the bridge than a Dana 44 anyhow, which has the very-stout 3/8" wall-thickness tubes break out of the weaker diff casting as a typical failure on GM trucks due to width and weight. You'd have to be going to a 60 ($) to really be doing better all-around.

                          edit: Whoops I mean half-inch wall. Really really stout, 3/8 and 5/16-wall were used for other vehicles.
                          Last edited by Loren; March 27th, 2017, 11:36 AM.
                          ...

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                          • Re: The Wanderer

                            My current plan is to truss it and be careful. This isn't, nor will it be ever, my off-road weapon of choice.... but I still hate spending money on weak-sauce differentials.
                            Doing it all wrong since 1966

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                            • Re: The Wanderer

                              and today's title is "how to milk a job" brake job and a lift - maybe 12 hours total.... I think I'm at hour 20 and I'm still not done

                              so we pick up today's saga at the "bought more new parts"
                              on the left we see the old race, on the right the new... darker is not better... I'm glad I caught all this now


                              I love my beat table outside... races out


                              clean everything up


                              Under Buick's watchful eye


                              greased


                              Oh mother... hub on the left is okay, the right... what happened to the copper bushing? Time to buy new hubs.... and yet another delay


                              brake lines are in, brakes are bled


                              really?!!!

                              clearanced

                              stickers installed


                              and I still have to finish the shocks on the other side.... then put the tires and wheels back on.... then maybe test drive it (well, I suppose I should put a seat back in to do this).... then continue my wiring fixes. At least now it's 4" further from the earth, much better.... maybe in a couple weeks I can get with the overland modifications - though if there's nothing I've learned better and through bitter experience; it really doesn't pay to have the best equipped rig if it ain't reliable.
                              Doing it all wrong since 1966

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                              • Re: The Wanderer

                                ever since I put the beadlocks on my '40, it's been a wandering beast. Part of the issue is it doesn't track the same in corners based upon steering input. Without going into the why, did the panhard bar the traditional way - where it parallels the steering arm. At the time of the build, I didn't think I had enough clearance to run the cross steer arm to a high-steer mount. Because of that both the steering cross shaft and the panhard bar are at quite an angle to the axle. This is the fix of that. A panhard bar should be parallel with the axle - unless there's a compelling reason not to. If it isn't, some call it bump steer (it's not) but you get steering that doesn't actually turn at the same angle when turning. It's especially annoying at highway speeds. Basically, the front end moves and either understeers or oversteers depending on the lean of the truck. Of course, with all good things, there's a but. putting the panhard parallel to the axle, especially on lifted trucks can actually decrease the amount of steering angle you get when the rig is crossed up. On top of that, the steering wheel moves while the tires go straight. Again, they call it bump steer, but it's actually suspension induced steering angle. The tires track straight but the steering wheel moves. In bump steer, the tires start oscillating and that is transmitted to the steering wheel. Given this things desire to follow ruts, I'm going to risk some steering angle to get it to drive 80 mph without fear.

                                I bought a ruffstuff bracket that goes to the outside of the frame. when this is done, those tabs will attach to the inside


                                I like the scallops - will make my '40 all high-class


                                Here is where it will hang, only 180 degrees from its current space....


                                In random other news, I got a spare this weekend


                                anyway, this is a coming attraction - I'm continuing on with my Wanderer Suburban build.... I was expecting hubs today but this showed up instead.
                                Doing it all wrong since 1966

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