So Much For That Hot Desert
Posted: Thu Jul 22, 2010 12:39 pm
We met our match out there. But first, how we got to that point:
This is the top of the hill outside of Baker CA with that "world's largest thermometer" reading 116*. I was proud of the Firestone Assassinator-shod BobD for climbing this famous 16 mile 2,000 foot ascent in 4th gear the whole way, something the Road Warrior never could do. It did it in 4th even as I kept off the gas, it settled in around 60mph and just did its thing:
The heat was still woozy-inducing, so I continued on another several miles until the Halloran Summit at 4,700 feet. Then I measured the engine temps. Oops. We got your basic 312* reading on the crankcase just below the pushrod tubes, and a 250* at the oil pump and 255* at the oil filter and 245* at the valve cover gaskets. Dipstick was noticeably warm, but not impossible. Engine was running fine. The Firestone ScrewYouWeHateYou tires were actually running cooler than the German Metzener spare 145* versus 155*.
It was here that I realized that I was part of the problem. Heart-racing and no sweat after laser checking out that blasting heat from the bottom of the engine, I myself was over-cooked and there was no relief in sight but the shade of this magnificent old tree:
No Death Valley with this car and this heart today. I did not trust the temps and do not have enough experience with this particular engine to push things. You see, that above-note increase in power up the hills was nice and all, it's what America wanted after all, but it changed the rules of the game I have always enjoyed with air-cooled VWs. I don't know that this more-powerful bus engine is quite so bullet-proof as the little Road Warrior's unperturbable and modest engine. We traded-in rock-solid reliability in the early 60's in our efforts to keep up with the times in the late 70's. I now need to feel out and learn how much to "back-pedal" the increased power to keep temps down, and it makes me now think this later more powerful 2.0 engine I now have to drive might benefit from some . . . . gauges. Otherwise, I end up driving it with the same output as the Road Warrior, and the hills will have to be pulled in 3rd at the same speed as the Road Warrior used to to keep the temps down. Which explains still better why I like VW's method to understress and underpower their cars, they did the "back-pedalling" for us.
Here is where the fuel pump started screaming:
Could not have picked a prettier place to discover that the fuel filter (cerca 2003) was finished:
By the time I was done mucking around with a leaking fuel hose clamp-off that ran gasoline-rinsed WaxOyl all over my arms and armpits and had wrestled off that black-gooed old fuel filter for the new grey Israel's Finest and got the clamps where you can actually loosen them next time, and shortened the pump-to-filter hose and replaced the gas tank-to-filter hose with a longer one so things are not rubbing againt the wrong sharp edges ....:
..... it was getting more beautiful and the temps were down into the low 90*s and my heart rate was getting back to normal:
Drove up the dirt path here at the summit, and found a bewitching landscape of cacti and moonlight with the dip of I-15 visible in the far distance, a red and white artery at night, a vein of our civilization's pell-mell dash here and there, utterly baffling and nonsensical to Overheated Hermit here, and that completely pissed-off bird that came down and pecked at my left rump "HEY! What IS the PROBLEM here?" I yelled at the bird as it flew back to its cactus perch. I walked/jogged another mile up the dirt path, and each short little hill and dell gave me a new vantage, a new landscape. In the moonlight, it felt as swift as a fighter jet strafing a canyon, this is called Entertainment in the Middle Of Nowhere if you are easily amused by your child imagination.
Camped under stars blotted out by that stupid old moon. Next morning, I thought, let's finish the fuel system and do the fuel hoses finally. Then I can see why #3 is leaner than the others (and indeed, the plastic cap on the injector was not properly crimped to the body causing a more shrouded and thinner spray as a result, and the factory install of the injectors squashed the o ring more than the others to compensate). Each original fuel hose that I took off was friggen perfectly pliable
. . . and each new fuel hose was installed with the trepidation that it doesn't have that nice heat resistant nylon mesh surface of the oem reinforced fuel injection hose. But at least I was able to bend the fuel pipes so they would not rub the cylinder tins FINALLY. I see no reason why you should not bend the fuel rail to help the circuit avoid interference with the brake booster line, the intake manifold, the spark plug connectors, and I bent the left rail but good to make a decent 90* bend over to the cold start valve:
A bit more finagling of the right pipe to miss the tin, the #2 spark plug connector and the harnesses:
.......at which time I had a serious tan/burn on my back. At 4,700 feet, there is less protective ozone smog, I guess. Drove down the hill to Primm Nevada and won a 20* increase in temperatures:
Am in SteinwayPianoLand, and must get to it in the middle of the night where it cools below 100*. You know that this piano is making music only because it knows that I love it to death. A piano with these huge five foot long strings in this heat should have delaminated and exploded and died long ago. But I love it . . . and the spirit of the old man who was taken too soon from me.
Colin
This is the top of the hill outside of Baker CA with that "world's largest thermometer" reading 116*. I was proud of the Firestone Assassinator-shod BobD for climbing this famous 16 mile 2,000 foot ascent in 4th gear the whole way, something the Road Warrior never could do. It did it in 4th even as I kept off the gas, it settled in around 60mph and just did its thing:
The heat was still woozy-inducing, so I continued on another several miles until the Halloran Summit at 4,700 feet. Then I measured the engine temps. Oops. We got your basic 312* reading on the crankcase just below the pushrod tubes, and a 250* at the oil pump and 255* at the oil filter and 245* at the valve cover gaskets. Dipstick was noticeably warm, but not impossible. Engine was running fine. The Firestone ScrewYouWeHateYou tires were actually running cooler than the German Metzener spare 145* versus 155*.
It was here that I realized that I was part of the problem. Heart-racing and no sweat after laser checking out that blasting heat from the bottom of the engine, I myself was over-cooked and there was no relief in sight but the shade of this magnificent old tree:
No Death Valley with this car and this heart today. I did not trust the temps and do not have enough experience with this particular engine to push things. You see, that above-note increase in power up the hills was nice and all, it's what America wanted after all, but it changed the rules of the game I have always enjoyed with air-cooled VWs. I don't know that this more-powerful bus engine is quite so bullet-proof as the little Road Warrior's unperturbable and modest engine. We traded-in rock-solid reliability in the early 60's in our efforts to keep up with the times in the late 70's. I now need to feel out and learn how much to "back-pedal" the increased power to keep temps down, and it makes me now think this later more powerful 2.0 engine I now have to drive might benefit from some . . . . gauges. Otherwise, I end up driving it with the same output as the Road Warrior, and the hills will have to be pulled in 3rd at the same speed as the Road Warrior used to to keep the temps down. Which explains still better why I like VW's method to understress and underpower their cars, they did the "back-pedalling" for us.
Here is where the fuel pump started screaming:
Could not have picked a prettier place to discover that the fuel filter (cerca 2003) was finished:
By the time I was done mucking around with a leaking fuel hose clamp-off that ran gasoline-rinsed WaxOyl all over my arms and armpits and had wrestled off that black-gooed old fuel filter for the new grey Israel's Finest and got the clamps where you can actually loosen them next time, and shortened the pump-to-filter hose and replaced the gas tank-to-filter hose with a longer one so things are not rubbing againt the wrong sharp edges ....:
..... it was getting more beautiful and the temps were down into the low 90*s and my heart rate was getting back to normal:
Drove up the dirt path here at the summit, and found a bewitching landscape of cacti and moonlight with the dip of I-15 visible in the far distance, a red and white artery at night, a vein of our civilization's pell-mell dash here and there, utterly baffling and nonsensical to Overheated Hermit here, and that completely pissed-off bird that came down and pecked at my left rump "HEY! What IS the PROBLEM here?" I yelled at the bird as it flew back to its cactus perch. I walked/jogged another mile up the dirt path, and each short little hill and dell gave me a new vantage, a new landscape. In the moonlight, it felt as swift as a fighter jet strafing a canyon, this is called Entertainment in the Middle Of Nowhere if you are easily amused by your child imagination.
Camped under stars blotted out by that stupid old moon. Next morning, I thought, let's finish the fuel system and do the fuel hoses finally. Then I can see why #3 is leaner than the others (and indeed, the plastic cap on the injector was not properly crimped to the body causing a more shrouded and thinner spray as a result, and the factory install of the injectors squashed the o ring more than the others to compensate). Each original fuel hose that I took off was friggen perfectly pliable
. . . and each new fuel hose was installed with the trepidation that it doesn't have that nice heat resistant nylon mesh surface of the oem reinforced fuel injection hose. But at least I was able to bend the fuel pipes so they would not rub the cylinder tins FINALLY. I see no reason why you should not bend the fuel rail to help the circuit avoid interference with the brake booster line, the intake manifold, the spark plug connectors, and I bent the left rail but good to make a decent 90* bend over to the cold start valve:
A bit more finagling of the right pipe to miss the tin, the #2 spark plug connector and the harnesses:
.......at which time I had a serious tan/burn on my back. At 4,700 feet, there is less protective ozone smog, I guess. Drove down the hill to Primm Nevada and won a 20* increase in temperatures:
Am in SteinwayPianoLand, and must get to it in the middle of the night where it cools below 100*. You know that this piano is making music only because it knows that I love it to death. A piano with these huge five foot long strings in this heat should have delaminated and exploded and died long ago. But I love it . . . and the spirit of the old man who was taken too soon from me.
Colin
Hills plus cool air. Gotta love it.