What I Did During My Vacation . . .

[Amskeptic]

The post-Itinerary vacation ended yesterday. Like a little bug, if you hit me with one frost, I am DONE. Work on a car?? Forget it, I don't DO car repair. Stepped out of Chloe in a beautifully situated cul-de-sac to clear the dew off the glass, no no no no, it was frost. Cold feet, cold hands, cold water, cold shave, DONE.

It was such a lovely sunny warm interlude in south Georgia waiting for the election results to be done, except for one miserably hot 88* and humid afternoon on November 3rd when I decided to clean the front brake drums and repack the front wheel bearings. As early bay bus pilots know, when you take off the front drums, you have blobs of grease in close proximity to friction devices called "brake shoes" and "brake drums". Okay, now add "gnats" and insanely small "fleas", to which this recipe also calls for "annoying wind gusts" and "grass clippings" on a bed of pine needles. Everything was going along fine! until a pack of gnat hooligans teamed up and dive-bombed my eyes and nostrils while I was laying freshly greased wheel bearings into a freshly cleaned brake drum. I smacked my eye and the side of my nose with a greasy hand and kicked the other bearing into the grass. It was so unfair. Who do you get mad at? After a re-clean of everything with the steady ziiiiiiip ziiiiip of gnats flying into my ears and crawling arrogantly on my legs and arms and neck, I finally got the car back together. Noted that a whole summer of mountain driving through the Rockies and Adirondacks alike hardly wore down the brake shoes, impressive!

Dropped the drag link. It was a nice new Meyle drag link purchased by Bookwus . . . :



. . . but the boots were cracked and split even as the joints were still sticky new. You can see the Permatex UltraBlack I had used to sand-proof the front joint earlier this summer:


Packed the sockets and installed the new boots (yes! I had some new ones in my bag o' tricks) with the commemorative SGKent retainer spring installer tool. To better keep you in the dark, I forgot to photograph it. It is a steel cone upon which you drive the annoying three wrap spring retainer down until it is at the perfect edge of the cone. You slip the cone over the ball joint stud and align it perfectly with the groove in the rubber boot. Then pop the spring off the cone and it grabs the rubber boot:
first time - rubber squishes out of the groove and squirts grease while the spring is cockeyed
second time - retainer spring kaschtoinks into the soft belly of the rubber - total fail
third time - retainer spring hangs up on the edge of the cone, grabs the rubber and displaces it off the drag link
fourth time - 's a charm

Painted the drag link and washed the paint off the new boots:


It looked so pretty, I had to do the tie rods too. here is Left Done, Right Not Done:


All Done:




But, if you looked at Left Done, Right Not Done, I am sure that you saw the horrendous looking left wheel covered in brake shoe dust . . . so I color-sanded and polished the inside surfaces of both front wheels:




Now the stupid wheels look too good for the roof. So, I had to find a low concrete wall beside the Sonic drive in and rub out/polish/wax the poor Ruptured Duck Chloe Portland Mildewed Roof and Gutters. I should have done this job last October, that paint was glad to see me:




and then the rain clouds threatened . . .


. . . and I went to my favorite campsite at an abandoned industrial park dream where the bugs and gnats were not so plentiful . . . but the cops sure were.
Colin

[Amskeptic]

I was zonked out cold asleep when I was awakened with a sharp rapping on the sliding door glass with flashlights coming through from all angles like some demented spotlight finale at a concert. I have been through several of these late night interviews over the past eight years, but this one was quite different. There was absolutely none of the usual "casual" interaction which normally helps to size up the situation. Though it had not rained in well over a week, it started to rain hard pellets the instant that the officer said, "step out of the vehicle, let your blanket fall, put your hands on your head and keep them there." There were five vehicles! eight men! and all bad attitude!
"Do not move unless I tell you to, do you understand?"
"OK, I am not moving, but what the hell is going on here?"
"There was a robbery near here, now I need identification. Why are you here and where are you going? Use one hand to get your wallet, keep the other one on your head."
So I gave them the Itinerary Speil (even though this pre-election jitters interlude was after the itinerary), then I felt a massive irritation well up in me as I got wetter and colder.
"Do you think a robber would choose this vehicle? Do you think he'd pull over here, to what? take a nap?"
"Do you give permission for us to search your car?"
"Absolutely not!
(I remember the last time I said sure go ahead, in the Road Warrior outside of Saint Louis in 2008 where it was raining too! They made a mess of the place)
I will let you ask me to show you any place in the car and I will tell you what it is before I show you."
I figured this was a way to establish credibility. As importantly, the officer was taken aback by the rules. He looked at the others who nodded a subtle affirmative.
"Damn, it's cold, there was rain in the forecast?" I was shivering.
"OK, what is in that box?"
"A round vent, a black plastic trim piece, two generator brushes, a white trim piece to replace this," I pointed at the sliding door upper hinge cover. And I showed him each item.
"What are those chemicals back there?"
"Three gallons of water, one gallon of bleach, rubbing compound, wax cleaner, and Rainex."
"What is in that bag?"
"An empty Panera coffee cup, an empty Starbucks cup, an empty McDonalds coffee cup, two used steering box seals, a piano tuner wrench, a . . . "
"Okay, sorry sir. We had to check, sorry you're all wet." He handed back my license.
"Tell you what, Officer, when you catch that robber, will you tell him that he is now on my shit list, too?"
That was the only laugh of the night. They all peeled out of there, and the blinding lights and the noise and the stroboscopic flashing lights and the radio chatter were all gone, and it was just a quiet night with pattering rain. And I sat there wondering what the hell did my show-n-tell tell me about my life?
Colin

[Bleyseng]

Time to sell both Buses and get that Westy with 1000 miles on it. Atleast you could have climbed back in, switched on the gas heater to get warm/dry, played Beethoven's 9th and relax while you heated some tea water on the stove. Then climb back in bed stretching out on that comfortable bed.

[glasseye]

Very un-nerving. Tough to get back to sleep, I'll bet.

Reminds me of FDR's Four Freedoms.

Freedom from want.
Freedom of speech.
Freedom of religion.
Freedom from fear.

Seems to me that last one is toast these days, at least in settled areas of America. Too bad, really.

Speaking of "getting a Westfalia", here's one you might find comfy.




Get thee to the desert, right promptly, my boy. There, your biggest fear will be Jumping Chollas.

[zabo]

Sounds like fun times colin.
And always say no to a search...

[airkooledchris]

if your spending much time there next year id add another gallon sized jugg for the collection - DEET. bath in it, then start your project.
maybe don't smoke until after a bath though. (unless of course that bath is from GumOut)

[SlowLane]

"An empty Panera coffee cup, an empty Starbucks cup, an empty McDonalds coffee cup..."
...
And I sat there wondering what the hell did my show-n-tell tell me about my life?

That you need more coffee?

Seriously, glad you escaped without a cavity search.

[hambone]

Collllin, Col-col-colinn. The backside of wide 5 Bus wheels should be black. Come on take it all apart again.

[Amskeptic]

Collllin, Col-col-colinn. The backside of wide 5 Bus wheels should be black. Come on take it all apart again.

White. Always. And forever.
Bugs and Type 3s had black-outs for chrome beauty rings with vent slots, the basic models kept the black-outs. But buses, they had white wheels til '71 perforated drop disk silver. I am most certain, I think.
Colin

[hambone]

White at the hupcap side, black on the drum side. Type3, same deal but silver outside (at least the late ones).
I just finished restoring random 1960s 14" wheels and all of them had original paint of this configuration.

[tristessa]

Hammy, you should paint the insides of those wheels orange to match teh dipstick of your engine...

[Hippie]

Fun night. I am too bleary it the middle of the night to think that clearly. My first instinct is to hurl a bucket of gasoline on the whole bunch and then dare them to fire their weapons. (kidding!)

[Amskeptic]

Fun night. I am too bleary it the middle of the night to think that clearly. My first instinct is to hurl a bucket of gasoline on the whole bunch and then dare them to fire their weapons. (kidding!)

I shall make it part of my "chemistry set".
"Hey Pigs, feeling LUCky? Well are ya, PUNKS?"
My Clint Eastwood impression is getting better as smoking ravages my vocal cords.

As I get older, my younger reliable Cop! anxiety diminishes. Now, it is just a philosophical muse. Here I am, fifty three years of observation of the Whole Of Society meeting up with people who have such a different perspective out in the night, with weapons! with radios! with a culture of contempt for the dregs of society! and I am guilty of being a dreg until I otherwise prove differently, or not. Most of the time, I am not a "dreg". I have had some long conversations with cops musing about their retirements, their children's higher education expenses, their late Ford Victoria cars now replaced by cramped Dodge Chargers . . . . .
Colin

[glasseye]

... I am guilty of being a dreg until I otherwise prove differently,

Creds help.

In a campground called "Dry Cleaners", somewhere in PA, in the wee small hours I convinced a group of 4 (four!) cops that I wasn't a dreg by showing them my NASA Shuttle Launch Entry Permit document. Their attitude changed from "aggressive" to "fascinated" in a heartbeat.

[Amskeptic]

... I am guilty of being a dreg until I otherwise prove differently,

Creds help.

In a campground called "Dry Cleaners", somewhere in PA, in the wee small hours I convinced a group of 4 (four!) cops that I wasn't a dreg by showing them my NASA Shuttle Launch Entry Permit document. Their attitude changed from "aggressive" to "fascinated" in a heartbeat.

Creds, hmmm, let's look around, I know there is one somewhere, "oh officer, hey, yeah um here is my Notice Of License Suspension, see? that's MY name on the form."