Oh, My Kingdom for a Garage to be My Kingdom!

I just realized most of the recent updates here have been model-train related. Oops! I’m usually not so obviously one-dimensional. So, given what with the blue skies and the pollen bombs and the warmer weather come thoughts of the outdoors – and working on things we enjoy in the outdoors, like cars in my case (among other things), let me try to add a measure of cool by random updates on the auto projects front. A couple o' these have only been graced a fleeting mention before!

Consider the following picture:

Waldo is in the trunk. Also, my basement may or may not look like this at any given time.

IN addition to a proper Hippie's Springtime jaunt that involved a nice hike in some desolate wooded hillside property, and an unspoilt natural cave, I spent last weekend at the farm making more progress on the Archaeological Dig known as the "tractor crib." If you can see the car buried within, good for you!...

For the record, it is (was?) a 1966 Mustang 289 Convertible; the parts you don’t see on the car - as well as the interior and most of the trim - are strewn about elsewhere in the crib on shelves, rafters, and lofts. Now direct your attention to the shelf behind the poor carcass: Before I took this picture, that, dear reader, I assure you looked pretty exactly like the poor Mustang does. And what was on the shelf? Well, as I listed on Facebook with tongue only partially in cheek, it went something like this:

• The transmission, aftermarket A/C, wheels, windows, interior bits, top components, and other parts for the Mustang


• Similar for a 1929 Model A truck (more on that later)


• Half a tractor (er, haybaler but basically the same thing to a layman) (lots of interesting cogs and shafts though) (huh huh I said "shaft")


• Assorted chemicals (half of which are probably banned nowadays)


• A hardware store of antiquities


• Various and sundry household artifacts of dubious purpose and value


• Tetanus Supreme Combo


• A mexican mouse hotel


• A Periodic Table of Elemental Farm Decay (inner tube shard = rubber, Tractor door = iron, phosphorous = fertilizer, etc)


• The smell of A Thousand Sorrows


• and that's just what I can remember...

Where'd it all go? Last year I may have mentioned building the loft during my annual late-June vacation, but this is the first glimpse I’ve shared to illustrate just what I’m up against. All that stuff went into the new loft, where it was only partially sorted. The staircase is yet to come, so in the meantime a strategically parked skid-steer with bucket staged in a precisely calculated position provides the best access (and means for getting the stuff up there). Yet, truth be told, it’s not even the Mustang that I’m most interested in! Now before I go any further I should acknowledge that said Mustang has a bit of personal significance to my Father in Law, as it was a project begun with his son to salvage the remnants of his restoration legacy long before I started coming around. Even though farming and coaching have gotten in the full-time way, it’s still theirs to finish first – allegedly for the son’s first daughter – and I’d be honored and happy to help (especially in atonement for knocking a full 55-gallon drum into it while cleaning the blasted area last year, but that’s another story).

But what I’m really most interested in is this:

That is a not just a Ford Model A. It's a 1929 Ford Model A Roadster Pickup! Roadster by virtue of being a convertible 2-seater. Pickup by being, well, a pickup. But the combo is awesome! And arguably better off than the Mustang as most of it is still there, just waiting to be reassembled and fired up. Not that it will be that simple mind you (especially when the bed, top, fenders, and other bits are up in the loft), but in the short run I deem this the most fun and worthwhile of the two projects. Everyone has a Mustang. NOT everyone has a Model A – and of those who do, not many have convertible pickups!

But the earnest start of both projects is contingent upon finishing the clearing out of the junk, so that the bay can be cleaned out, the Mustang moved out, the bay upfitted with a concrete floor and heating (among other amenities), and a proper, clean, finished workspace created. Who knows, in the long run it might not be out of the realm to think it could provide hope for my 88 T-bird after all…

Fortunately the rest of the cleaning may only take about a day or so. Which should hopefully free up my summer week to work on the Kentucky Fried Cougar:

Trust me, that bumper sticker is epic, to befit our theme, and one of the key reasons this car needs rebirth for one more shot at glory!

Yes, the 24 Hours of LeMons still remains a goal, one I've been stubbornly working toward - and even Anna mentions it with glee. Trouble is, the car won’t start, and I’ve not had ANY time to work on it. But that just makes it a true LeMon! It cranks and cranks all day long but won’t start – but in my stolen batches of time (30 minutes here, 20 minutes there) I’ve eliminated most of the obvious (ignition/plugs/wires/etc). So it comes down to bad gas or fuel delivery – not something easily troubleshot in 30 minutes in a sweltering barn miles from civilization with no tools when the car is resting on flat tires on a dirt floor. But give me a day to haul some equipment over and focus on it, and it’ll get started. And hauled back, and gutted, and once I learn how to weld the KFC will be underway. Count on it!

So where is the good ol' Angstmobile in all of this?

Currently sidelined for attention to the #4 Exhaust Manifold port. The gasket has been blown for some time – long before I resurrected the car – and with this issue being of the “can only ever get worse” class, needs to be fixed. Now driving a tank that sounds like a Cessna has numerous advantages, but motor lifespan and efficiency is not one of them, and I can’t afford a full-on rebuild at the moment (see the previous 3 reasons why). However, all hope is not lost, as I have been working to find a source mechanic to assist with the work later this spring. A proper repair requires potential removal of the motor and other techniques I’m not fully acquainted with. Also, there’s an issue whereby the previous owner apparently tried to work on this issue… and broke the mounting bolt off inside the cylinder head. Do you know how much extra work that would entail? Possibly the removal of both manifold and clyinder head! Especially to re-plane the mating surfaces smooth, if what little driving I already did was too much.

At any rate, the goal is to have the Angstmobile quieted down and ready for the road later this spring. Hopefully the weather will remain drier than normal; if we have a repeat of 2009’s 245 days of rain I might go insane.

The winter auto of my discontent.

All of these projects are serving to distract me from the sad sad reckoning with my beloved soldier, the ’88 T-Bird. After finally moved to a place of our own in late 2008, I was so looking forward to having the space to work on it in leisure, with relative seclusion from prying neighbors and passers-by. But then, after years of relative drought, 2009 was a constant washout... so nothing got done. Undeterred, I nonetheless secured some critical parts to get it started again: nothing big, just some metal gastank straps. Because those are kinda important. Anyway I went to install them a couple weeks ago... and discovered that there is no longer anything left to attach them to, as the original frame mounting brackets have rotted away, and the frame itself is not much better off. Sigh. It’s bad enough that Chicago seems ever more foreign to me whenever I return for visits; now I have to face its murderous legacy as well.

So, with no means to safely secure the gastank in place, the '88 is now officially and semi-permanently immobile. Sure, there are things that could be done. Had I the local means I could weld new brackets in place, but that would be but just a single bandaid when the whole car needs chemo. The disheartening thing is it wasn't that bad when I parked it a few years ago; I figured resting on a paved, self-draining driveway would keep the rust at bay - and it largely did, as the body is solid - but it rotted out from within and underneath.

So it's a crapshoot now, arguably not worth or maybe even possible to restore as original. Which means it could be a prime candidate to modify. Which again, requires resources.

But it was my first, and best, my old soldier worthy of a Bronze Star, and it certainly isn't going anywhere. If I have to I'll donate the good bones from it to worthy recipients, so my car may live on. But it doesn't have to come to that, yet?

The Farm holds an interesting labratory. The Angstmobile was Step 1. The KFC will be the idiot lab. The Model A and Mustang will hopefully become better practice...

Who knows what the future holds? I might not even have time or money to build a garage after all...