Art & Inspiration Road side repair stories

Replacing oil pump drive shaft on CA. Route 120 , 40 miles west of Yosemite. California road trip from Detroit...after getting out of high school.

 

This story was told to me by the reporter that wrote the weekly column for a local newspaper for the stock car races in the mid '50's. There was a pair of twins from St. Louis who would tow their '40 Ford coupe to the stock car track at Evansville, Ill., about 40 miles away. Their tow car was a '50's or so Henry J. One weekend on the way to races the Henry J threw a rod about 15 miles from the track. After surveying the damage, one of the twins got in the stock car and pushed the tow car to the track. After the races they pushed the tow car back home again!

 

Remember getting a flat in town just after surgery for a broken hip after a skiiing accident. Was mobile but on crutches. Changed the tire and not one person stopped to help while I was hobbling around on my crutches.

 

We had a 65 Barracuda with a V8 4 speed for a while (that car was fun). We (my wife and 2 kids along) took the car to one of those big car shows in Indy. About the 2nd day there, every time I pushed in the clutch pedal, it seemed to function worse then the time before. The stop and go traffic was not helping much. When we got to the top of the hill just before our exit to our hotel, the clutch plead went to the floor but didn't disengage at all. I was able to pull it into neutral and coast down the hill and off onto the exit, where I shut the car off and started it in 1st gear. Just off the exit, and next to our motel was an old DX gas station. One of those places you probably would not have wanted to buy gas from unless you had to. I limped into the drive way and opened the hood to see if I could tell what was going on.

The clutch bell crank (the rod for the clutch linkage between the motor and the frame) end had split open on the frame end and was just about out of the bushings on the end of the shaft. I went in to talk with the kid that was collecting money from anyone that might have stopped to buy gas, he was clueless, but he did call his boss for me. The old guy told me he was done working for the weekend, but I could use whatever equipment that was there to fix me "car part". He said he had an old welder there. A walk through the garage made me wonder how much had been done there is the last few years, but sure enough, there was an old Lincoln buzz box there, weather it worked or not was a different story.

I got the wife and kids into the hotel room and went back to work on the car while it was still day light. Those early Barracudas had a pretty small engine compartment, and the V8 made it even tighter to do anything with. The kid at the station wouldn't let me put the car in the garage, but he al least let me use the few tools that were there. I managed to get the bell crank out of the car by the time it was getting dark, but the kid was closing the station for the night. He assured me he would be there at 8 am the next morning. It was close to 9:30 before he actually arrived, but at least he did show up. The next adventure was finding some welding rod. He called his boss, and the boss gave him a general area we "should" find a box of welding rod. We finally found the box. It was an old metal box with about a dozen rods left in it, but it was also 1/2 full of water! I picked out the best looking 2 or 3 rods and laid them out in the sun hoping they would dry out some by the time I was ready to use them. With a hammer, a couple heavy duty screwdrivers (that were apparently used as chisels on a regular basis) and a vice I managed to get the bell crank close to the correct shape again, now it was a matter of getting a good enough weld on it to hold it together until I could fix it properly.

With the 3 sort of dry rods, and a very questionable welder, I managed to get enough bird crap looking weld on the bell crank I was willing to take a shot at it. Then it was a matter of putting it back together. Lets say I was thrilled that it functioned reasonably well when I first got it together, but every time I had to push that clutch pedal down I was very nervous. That repair was on the Saturday morning, and that hack job lasted all weekend and got us back home (250 miles away). For the record, the gas station boss would not let the kid take any money for the use of the station's stuff. Before we left town, I did stop by and give the kid $10 for his "help".

After I got home, I built a new bell crank. Finding a used one was pretty hard even back then, not many 64-66 Barracudas were built with a V8 and a 4 speed. The 6 cylinder bell cranks were too long, but there were were plenty of those around.

 

In January of 1988 , we were heading to Wichita , Kansas to meet a guy from Wichita Falls , Texas who wanted to buy our first dragster . We were about 10 miles north of Bellville Kansas when I felt a vibration in my Suburban and I shut the truck off and coasted into a farmers driveway ,popped the hood to find the fan blade sitting at a 45 degree angle just shy of the radiator . My buddy started walking toward Bellville , and I started removing the water pump.
He only walked about 100 yards when a guy stopped to pick him up , and gave him a ride to a parts house in Bellville , and brought him back ! By the time he got back with the new water pump I had the old one off . I installed the new one and we were back on the road in one hour and forty five minutes from start to finish . This was the start of one adventure after another for 24 hours , but luckily no more Suburban repairs !

 

2009 I finally got the 57 on the road and I started going to car shows and cruise nights. On the way home a couple towns away the clutch pedal went BANG and then to the floor. I limped it into a dirt lot where they just tore down a house. I snooped around and saw the z-bar ball on the frame side broke off. I called home and guided Maureen over the phone into the garage. She found the spare ball I had
(Still don't know where I got it or why i had that) and grabbed a couple wrenches and long reach pliers. She then delivered the goods. Was not fun swapping that out laying in the dirt but it got done.

 

This is a GOOD thread.

Ben

 

Hello,

When we were in the middle of our teenage road trips all over So Cal beaches and having fun, we never gave it second thought to flat tires. We were the crank it over, start right up and go places, teens. No worries about a check list to get where we were going. We just threw in some towels, cold drinks, a couple of sandwiches, a baloney sandwich, first, on the way and a peanut butter/jelly later for lunch.

We already had a stack of beach towels in the sedan delivery as standard equipment. So, put in the longboards and off we went to the gas station for some gasoline.

The Flathead sedan delivery came without a bumper jack. That jack would not have worked well on the bumpers of the sedan delivery. The lift jack came from a Chevy sedan. So, I told my self that we don’t need a bumper jack. Then time and trouble free activity came calling and off we went.

Jnaki

Then one day in northern Los Angeles County, when we came back to the sedan delivery, the rear tire was too low to drive to the nearest gas station for some air. A spare tire, but no jack. So, we thought of alternative methods of getting the tire off and the new one back in place.

Finally, we asked several surfers to help lift the rear bumper up, just enough to pop off the flat tire. So, a bunch of surfers grabbed the bumper, the supports and what ever else and actually lifted the car high enough for me to pop off the flat tire and slip on instantly, the full air spare. Once bolted in place, it was all nice and we paid them with what delicious food we had left over in the cooler + cold drinks.

The 2nd lunch that was packed for the afternoon snack was now given away. Custom teriyaki steak, chicken sliced settings+ barbeque kebabs , a couple of baloney sandwiches, chips, and many cold drinks. That was plenty of food for those that helped us get back on the road for home. Surfers will work for cheap when far away from home… ha!

Note:

After that incident, we bought a scissors jack that would be wrapped in an old towel and wedged into the tire opening slot below the floor of the sedan delivery. Now, no bent bumpers would be involved and a smooth raise/lower scissors jack worked well for any service needs that arose.

Because we were late in getting home, our dad told us that he would buy the scissors jack and new tire for the sedan delivery. (We were sure it was because the two brothers were doing something together and both had the same needs from the emergency, or it was the insistence from our mom, worrying about both of her sons… ha!) From that point on until we sold the sedan delivery in 1965, we had no problems with flat tires or ever used the scissors jack for any purpose. Somehow, the underpowered flathead motor was rock solid and the scissors jack was still in its “new” condition 5 years later.

Note 2:

When we bought our 327 powered 40 Ford Sedan Delivery as 20 somethings, we instantly got a scissors jack and placed it in the same location as my high school sedan delivery. But, new technology tires, good reworked, new brake parts, suspension and tire prep lasted again, thousands of miles without any tire problems including odd wear in an older hot rod. Tire shaving, even as new tires, new suspension parts, a good mechanic to do the suspension work, mounting, balancing, and alignment is also a good thing to have.

It sure is nice to have a well built, reliable hot rod to enjoy those So Cal beach cruises and road trips all over the area, without worrying about breakdowns or having to replace parts. The scissors jack was wrapped and ready, but never used... YRMV

 

I've told some of my stories towing racers around the midwest for 20+ years and another 20 growing up with my Dad's race deal. lots of miles/ years, shit happens. 1970 started driving Dad's Midget racer, my first time and dragging along the wife with our newborn baby boy. The race deal went OK, the trip home not so much, we're traveling in Dad's 59 Chevy wagon and the 6 banger blew a rod out the side, so here we sit and wait for someone to stop, go down the road and call a tow for us, Cell phones for the last 35+ years are a blessing traveling, an hour or so tow truck shows up, hooks us up to get back to his station. Picture this, Dad rides in tow truck, my MOM, myself, Unhappy wife/newborn in the wagon with trailer connected being towed down the road. I can't remember how/why, the trailer disconnected from wagon and rolled off the shoulder into ditch not real deep. So........ tow truck guy tows wagon to his station and goes back for Dad to get the trailer/racer. All this took several hours, hot day, no AC anywhere, the wife was not a happy camper, #1,me driving a racer, the trip, car problem, unhappy newborn, Mom was OK as she had been down this road before and was a saint for putting up racing, my Dad and me. That following week I purchased a nice car with AC and we used my tow car for the rest of years I drove for my Dad and had nice tow vehicles and trailers for my deal/ years racing, not that newer/new shit don't fail as some stories/adventures still happened. AS a footnote, all my hobby cars, only 1 flatbed ride in 60 years with exception, Dad towed me home with chain several times in my youth, I got real good at keeping chain tight. LOL

 

This was not on the side of the road but in a location away from home. In the 80s I was going to Lead East. The day before I took the car out to make sure everything was ok. As luck would have it the clutch was slipping. I decided to go anyway. It was too late in the day to do anything about it so away I went in the morning. My wife and son were with me and a good friend and his wife followed in her car. Lead East in those days was held on a college campus and wouldn't you know it the last few miles were up steep hills. The clutch gave out at the entry to Lead East. Great these guys are going to think I'm a jerk. Not at all, a bunch of guys ran over and helped to push it all the way to a spot with the other guys. My friend said" I'll go into town and see if I can get a clutch and pressure plate". Meanwhile I had my jack and tools but no jack stands. I was surprised at all the offers for help that I got. A guy brought me his jack stands to use and my friend found the clutch and pressure plate. They were cheap junk but we put them in and later that night it got us home. Afterwards I had the flywheel resurfaced and put a new Clutch, pressure plate and throw out bearing in. When I used to drag race I always found the guys in the pits to be friendly but that experience showed me it extended to the whole old car crowd.

 

Driving across Missouri in a strong headwind. Snow blowing all directions. Temps in the -15 degree F range.
Amp gauge goes to the negative side and headlights are dimming.
I find a self spray car wash. The kind that has no doors on either side. I pull in to get out of the wind.
I find the belt loose and a bolt missing from the alternator pivot bracket. I need a 3/8" bolt. None in the glove box, tool box, can't find one anywhere.
With frozen fingers, I decide to take an intake manifold bolt. One on the front end of the block. Yes, I realize that this may cause a coolant leak, but whatever.
Fingers are numb, trying to maneuver the bolt in place, I drop it. I look down and there, right below me, is the floor drain. That bolt is gone. Moved the truck, got a bolt from the opposite side.
Oh, and did I mention that it was evening and no stores were open?
Stopped at the first motel and spent the night.

 

Going To California In My 1957 Chevy Sedan When A U-joint Went AWOL And I Wrapped Electrical Tape Around The Bearing Ends And Limped Into The Lone Pine Auto Parts Store....

 

I got called by a girl who lost the keys to her car asking if I could come and help her out. She had been visiting her boyfriend at the time. Ended up hot wiring her '64 Dodge. The kid was in jail so the guard found it suspicious what I was doing in their parking lot.

 

Not exactly a fix, but we managed to get by. A friend and I, and our girl friends were heading to Ocean City MD, about 125 miles. First light over the Bay Bridge I caught a red light. When it turned green I tried to take off and the clutch wouldn’t disengage. My buddy jumped out and opened the hood. He said I was missing two bolts on the bottom left side of the aluminum bell housing, and there was a crack running about a third of the way up the bell housing. Every time I pushed the clutch in, the crack opened up far enough the clutch didn’t release. Turned the engine off, put it in first and started the car in gear. Timed the shifts with the RPM’s and got to the beach and back home. Next day I put a new Hayes 40 pound flywheel, new clutch set up, and Lakewood blow shield in the 67 O/T car. People still look at me when they see me shifting trucks not using the clutch.

 

My wife and I had just started on a weekend vacation to southern IL to visit her younger brother that lives down there (we live on the north end of IL, there is 600+ miles of IL between the north end and the south end). We were on our 54 Dodge pickup. The truck had an electric fuel pump (on a carbureted motor) mounted just in front of the gas tank and it had been working just fine, until we were on the interstate, about 150 miles from home!

We were cruising along with the traffic at about 80 mph and the truck made kind of a hick up, but just kept going. About 20 miles later, the 2nd hick up was a bit more serious, it was pretty obvious the motor was loosing fuel, even though we still had well over a 1/2 of thank of gas (a 25 gallon tank). The worst part of the deal was, there was no exit we could even get off the interstate for another 20+ miles.

I pulled to the side of the road to be sure there wasn't a bad fuel line, or hose or something leaking fuel (I had stuff the I could have patched that up with), but sadly, everything was dry.

We limped on down the road with the thought of at least getting as close to someplace as we could. It was kind of strange, the pump would work great for a few miles, then it would pretty much quit working until the truck was just about down to a crawl, then the pump would kick in and away we would go. When we got to the next set of exits it was a rather large town with several exits. The first exit didn't look very promising, but fortunately, the pump was working at that point again. We took the next exit, and there happened to be an auto parts store a few blocks in. We coasted into the parking lot. I went in looking for an electric fuel pump like the one on the truck. They didn't have one, and the counter jockey didn't really seemed to be too concerned. I must have been expressing my displeasure pretty loudly... Shortly I was speaking with the store manager. I informed him of my small problem and he immediately jumped into action. He actually called one of his competitors and found the pump I needed. Then he took his delivery truck and went to the other parts store and picked up the pump from there and brought it back to me! He made sure I had everything I needed to get the old pump off and the new pump back on, and that I got the truck running. When I paid for everything I tried to give the manager a bit extra for going over and above the call of duty, but he would have none of it.

I did get his name, and the store number, and sent a letter to the store chain office telling about how the store manager went out of his way to help a stranded motorist.

I wish I could say the rest of that vacation was uneventful, but it was not.

Down in southern IL we were with a group of people with 4 or 5 cars going to the same location. Most of the group was from out of town and didn't know how to get where we were driving to. As usual, since I had the "old truck" which was easy to see, I was the last one on the line so the guy leading knew everyone was keeping up with the group. The group was making a left turn at a traffic light that had the left turn signal. The guy in front of me was lollygagging along, so when we lost the green arrow, but still had the green light, he decided to stop, but then changed his mind. He stomped the gas and took off. I couldn't see that there was a car coming straight at us until the guy made the left turn. The guy coming at us was doing about 60 trying to make the light. I don't know how he missed the guy in front of me, but he must not have seen my truck either. Both of us were trying to make the light before it changed. The guy coming at me must have swerved into my lane to miss the guy in front of me. Panic brake and swerve to the right for me, while the other guy is trying to get back into his lane! My truck had 12" disc brakes on the front and 11" drum brakes on the back. A panic stop with it was a very fast speed reduction without locking the tires so I could still steer. I honestly don't know how the two of us missed each other, but we did. About a mile down the road, I stepped on the brake pedal and the pedal went real spongy. I made a right turn into an auto parts store that was right there. One of the two year old front brake hoses blew out. That parts store had the hose in stock. I got permission to park the truck in their parking lot, we went to the event we were driving towards with another couple and returned later to change the brake hose in the parts store parking lot.
The rest of the trip was uneventful.

 

My cars are all so polite....they break down in the driveway...mostly

 

On my 34 Ford there is an electric fuelpump on the firewall. It stopped working, engine quit when I was in the middle of heavy traffic stop and go in the next city. The traffic light was red so I jumped out, opened the hood and kicked the damn pump, I´m sure its working again as it is rubbermounted and moves with every stroke. Hood closed, jump in the car and lights turn green. I make it through this part of city, showing off and am the coolest guy around. Luckily nobody notices that a little bit later the engine starts to miss and I can just swerve into a parking lot. Pump is not moving again so I have to kick it while driving - impossible! As my dog always rides with me, I have a leash just long enough to go through the open front window and down below the hood where I hook it to the pump. Pulling the leash makes the pump work so we continue our trip. A couple kilometres later it quits again - lucky for me as I stop at the roadside and find that the oilfilter housing started to leak at a hose joint. Have not lost too much oil so I could drive home IF I GET THE DAMN PUMP TO WORK! After looking around for a while on the roadside I see some rusty fence wire in the ditch. Just what I need! Poke through the isolation of the floor and connect the wire to the pump from below. The other end of wire goes around my left thigh. Now I can pull on the leash and pull on the wire - this is a bit more jerking movement and the lousy pump works enough to get us home.

 

In the mid ‘80’s I had a Jeep PU with a Buick 350. I got into Arizona from California and was pulling a slight grade, left hand lane, passing cars like they were afraid to drive the speed limit. About the top of this grade, something let loose under the hood. Bingo,bango, etc. as I crested the top there was a rest area. Pulled in, popped the hood.
Radiator cap (one with pressure relief valve) came apart, musta hit the fan and took two or three tubes out of the radiator.
Well hell. What the eff am I going to do?

A truck driver spotted me staring at my engine. He asked what’s up? Showed him. Damned if he didn’t have a radiator cap with him!

Okay, I’m looking at the tubes still pissing steam, knowing I’m not going to make the next 100-150 miles to Phoenix.
He says “I have an idea”. Come back with some flat needle nose pliers. Pinches the top and bottom of the damaged tubes, wraps and rolls them up for me.
I fill it with water, damned thing was like that to the point I’d forgot about until I sold the truck a few years later to a family friend. He called and asked what happens to the radiator? Dang, had forgot all about it.
The truck driver that fixed me up wouldn’t take a dime either. I opened my wallet, guess he looked in and said “aw, you’ll need it for gas to make it home”.
Okay, I didn’t fix it, but he sure saved my ass.

 

Night before last, middle of the night right near the MOKAN dragstrip, threw a fan belt. Pulled into a little quick stop right north of there, went in to tell the clerk what I was doing. He didn't have much english, didn't much care. I actually had a new belt in the trunk, got two wrenches from my box and a flashlight. Got the belt on in about 10 minutes, but then had to crack the radiator cap and lost a bunch more coolant. I had a gallon and a half of water, went back inside and bought a couple more.

Back on the road like nothing happened except for my greasy hands. Going to NAPA this afternoon for another spare belt. Get me some more antifreeze and water, too. Be prepared!

 

Helping my wildass uncle in his small logging operation when I was a teen. Went to leave the woods one night and battery in his old Ford pickemup was flat as Twiggy. Nothing to jump it with and auto trans, so couldn't push start it.
Popped the hood and found that the alt belt had loosened up so no charge. No problem he said. He took the bar and chain off his saw, took the belt off the crank pully and ran it around the clutch on the saw. Gave it hell with that Stihl for a few minutes, put the belt back on and fired that mother up.
While this was going on, he told me of another experience he had like this one. He was spearing steelhead one night and had the same problem with the same truck. I might add that his activities were less than legal, as you were not allowed to spear this river. No chain saw or anything else to get him going. He walked the riverbank until he saw a house. Nobody home, but there was a Ford pickup parked in the driveway. He pulled the battery out, took it back to his truck and got it started. Swapped batteries with the truck running, drove to the house where he borrowed it, and reinstalled. Luckily the owner never showed up, so he didn't have to 'splain what the hell he was doing. If it had been me, I would have been arrested for sure. He had, as they say, the luck of the Irish. He may not have been an Irishman by birth, but he sure drank like one.

 

my brother -in-law had a '56 or '56 Anglia and broke the front suspension. don't recall exactly what broke. went to a junk yard couple miles away and found a complete front suspension in the weeds for $50. draped a tarp over the front, as it was raining like hell and changed the front suspension along the road.