I recently had a situation that after a couple of improvised attempts that kinda-sorta worked, I would up subcontracting out the manufacture of a custom part.
The 4.6 modular V8 in my Crown Vic blew out its #3 spark plug. We tapped the head for a sleeve, which got us back in service. That repair lasted four months (36K miles). Upon the second blowout, I began looking for oversized sleeves, and found none locally. We had limited success with cutting the extension threads off anti-foul adapters, but found that we couldn't cut the outer diameter of the barrel with threads strong enough for extended use. By this time, I had found an online source for oversized sleeves, but our experimental sleeves had tapped the head past the diameter of those parts.
Faced with replacing the cylinder head, I did a little thinking outside the box. A visit to the local fastener company yielded two m20 bolts (primary and backup) to convert into a sleeve. Then off to the steel fab house. The plan was to drill and tap the bolt, then cut it down to length needed. However, the fab shop did not have a tap flute for the 14 x 1.25mm thread I needed... that thread pitch is used only for spark plugs. Their tool supplier overnighted a flute, and I got a custom oversized sleeve for one hour labor ($100) plus the cost of the flute. Compare that to $300 for a head and $650 R&I labor. That sleeve has now been in service four months, but we've only put 15K on the car since then.
Last week, the engine blew out the #2 plug; we installed a standard sleeve and had the car back in service within ninety minutes. One thing's for sure...this engine with more than 300K experience surely does not have any compression woes.
Stainless Steel Angel
Moderators: Bookworm, starkruzr, MrFireDragon, PrettyPrincess, Wapsi
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jwhouk
- Posts: 6053
- Joined: Wed Aug 01, 2012 7:58 am
- Location: The Valley of the Sun, Arizona
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Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Al was intrigued by the cryptic e-mail from Calvin.
We need to talk. Something important that I need to share with you. Call my house up here in Lino Lakes.
He'd given him the address, but refused to divulge what exactly this was about. He did request that it be just him – no one else.
The GPS led him to a small subdivision just off I-35W, north of Saint Paul. The narrow lane reminded Al of some of the English country lanes he'd seen growing up.
He eased the Aston down the road to the house. From the road, the trees and landscape made the house appear to be rather small. When he pulled into the driveway, though, it was apparent that he was only seeing the one end of the house.
Calvin's home extended for some distance into the treeline, perhaps a good half a kilometer or so. And about a good third of that was his garages.
He saw Calvin standing outside the entrance to the garage door nearest the main house. The home was unique in that, from outward appearances, it was all one level.
Calvin waved him over. Al parked the Vanquish, and quickly set the "do not detonate" protocol for the car before exiting.
"Calvin! Good to see you, my good man." He walked around the car, extending his hand in greeting. "What's with all the secrecy around this little meeting?"
"I understand you found the old DMC test mule," he replied. "And that my nephew convinced you to put it together and upgrade it."
"You would understand correctly," Al stated. "So – what's so secret?"
"I don't know how much Daisy has told you about my relationship with Rock," he said, motioning him into the side entrance. The large, twelve-bay garage was lit up, with several vehicles sitting around – some with tarp covers on them. "We both enjoyed collecting cars – though my taste is more with American iron."
"A bit eclectic, I see," Al stated as he saw the Studebaker Avanti sitting next to a Javelin AMX – and an International Scout. "Isn't that one of your competitor's vehicles?"
"Dad bought one to inspect. He thought IH was insane for trying to go head-to-head with Jeep." He paused, then said, "But that's not why you're here."
He led him to the far end of the garage. "What I'm about to show you – you don't tell a soul. Not my nephew, not my sister-in-law, not anyone." He tugged the corners off of a vehicle in the far bay – one that Al immediately recognized by the silhouette.
"You have one?" Al said incredulously.
"About ten years ago, when the whole hullabaloo over the 20th anniversary of the movie came out, I made some inquiries around the company as to the whereabouts of the car you're now putting together." He slowly removed the tarp to uncover the DMC-12. "As no one had any idea where it was, I figured my brother had just dropped the whole thing into a hole and poured over it with cement."
Al couldn't help but chuckle at this comment.
"I bought this thing used – it's an 1982 rebadged as an '83 model. One of the last to actually be sold before John was arrested." He raised the driver's side gull wing, which rose slowly overhead. "Basically, it's as-is from off the line at Dunmurry, with two main exceptions. First, all the Lucas circuitry was replaced with Bosch equivalents – sorry – and secondly…" He reached down to pull a lever that unlatched the back hatch. Walking to the back, he raised the engine cover to reveal the twin turbocharged AHI Inline-Four seated in the engine bay.
"…It has this. I'm not sure how much Buck has bored you with the technical details of our company's engine line, but this is one of our 200-series inline-four engines. Except, it's bored out to the maximum, with quad-valves and," he motioned at the dual air feeds atop the engine, "a double turbocharger."
Al let out a low whistle.
"This thing is about as fast as a similar-year Corvette – which is saying a lot." He went back over to the open driver's side door, settled into the cockpit, and turned the engine over with a roaring tha-THOOOOM! that shook the walls a moment. "It's about as street-legal as a Cosworth Indy engine in a Buick sedan," he said, once the engine began to idle.
"Most of the parts are from vehicles we use in R&D. The twin turbo design is something we came up with to make some of our smaller engines more powerful without sacrificing too much fuel consumption." He cut the engine off, then rose out of the car.
"And, there is no way in Hades that it could have been used in a DMC back in 1983, because the electronics to run the fuel injection requires an on-board computer about a 100 times more powerful than anything IBM or Apple were putting out back then."
We need to talk. Something important that I need to share with you. Call my house up here in Lino Lakes.
He'd given him the address, but refused to divulge what exactly this was about. He did request that it be just him – no one else.
The GPS led him to a small subdivision just off I-35W, north of Saint Paul. The narrow lane reminded Al of some of the English country lanes he'd seen growing up.
He eased the Aston down the road to the house. From the road, the trees and landscape made the house appear to be rather small. When he pulled into the driveway, though, it was apparent that he was only seeing the one end of the house.
Calvin's home extended for some distance into the treeline, perhaps a good half a kilometer or so. And about a good third of that was his garages.
He saw Calvin standing outside the entrance to the garage door nearest the main house. The home was unique in that, from outward appearances, it was all one level.
Calvin waved him over. Al parked the Vanquish, and quickly set the "do not detonate" protocol for the car before exiting.
"Calvin! Good to see you, my good man." He walked around the car, extending his hand in greeting. "What's with all the secrecy around this little meeting?"
"I understand you found the old DMC test mule," he replied. "And that my nephew convinced you to put it together and upgrade it."
"You would understand correctly," Al stated. "So – what's so secret?"
"I don't know how much Daisy has told you about my relationship with Rock," he said, motioning him into the side entrance. The large, twelve-bay garage was lit up, with several vehicles sitting around – some with tarp covers on them. "We both enjoyed collecting cars – though my taste is more with American iron."
"A bit eclectic, I see," Al stated as he saw the Studebaker Avanti sitting next to a Javelin AMX – and an International Scout. "Isn't that one of your competitor's vehicles?"
"Dad bought one to inspect. He thought IH was insane for trying to go head-to-head with Jeep." He paused, then said, "But that's not why you're here."
He led him to the far end of the garage. "What I'm about to show you – you don't tell a soul. Not my nephew, not my sister-in-law, not anyone." He tugged the corners off of a vehicle in the far bay – one that Al immediately recognized by the silhouette.
"You have one?" Al said incredulously.
"About ten years ago, when the whole hullabaloo over the 20th anniversary of the movie came out, I made some inquiries around the company as to the whereabouts of the car you're now putting together." He slowly removed the tarp to uncover the DMC-12. "As no one had any idea where it was, I figured my brother had just dropped the whole thing into a hole and poured over it with cement."
Al couldn't help but chuckle at this comment.
"I bought this thing used – it's an 1982 rebadged as an '83 model. One of the last to actually be sold before John was arrested." He raised the driver's side gull wing, which rose slowly overhead. "Basically, it's as-is from off the line at Dunmurry, with two main exceptions. First, all the Lucas circuitry was replaced with Bosch equivalents – sorry – and secondly…" He reached down to pull a lever that unlatched the back hatch. Walking to the back, he raised the engine cover to reveal the twin turbocharged AHI Inline-Four seated in the engine bay.
"…It has this. I'm not sure how much Buck has bored you with the technical details of our company's engine line, but this is one of our 200-series inline-four engines. Except, it's bored out to the maximum, with quad-valves and," he motioned at the dual air feeds atop the engine, "a double turbocharger."
Al let out a low whistle.
"This thing is about as fast as a similar-year Corvette – which is saying a lot." He went back over to the open driver's side door, settled into the cockpit, and turned the engine over with a roaring tha-THOOOOM! that shook the walls a moment. "It's about as street-legal as a Cosworth Indy engine in a Buick sedan," he said, once the engine began to idle.
"Most of the parts are from vehicles we use in R&D. The twin turbo design is something we came up with to make some of our smaller engines more powerful without sacrificing too much fuel consumption." He cut the engine off, then rose out of the car.
"And, there is no way in Hades that it could have been used in a DMC back in 1983, because the electronics to run the fuel injection requires an on-board computer about a 100 times more powerful than anything IBM or Apple were putting out back then."
Last edited by jwhouk on Tue Feb 16, 2016 9:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
A bit like Boontling, which is somewhat more recent but also rich with local vernacular.Just Old Al wrote:Yorkshire and the Black Country, though....utterly incomprehensible because of the use of local vernacular that may or may not date back a few hundred years - and refer to an event or individual unknown elsewhere in reality.
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Just Old Al
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Ari - pardon - Wing's phone rang. She fished it out of the thigh pocket of her coveralls, pushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and answered it. The voice on the other end squawked for a minute, and her face lit up.
"It's HERE! It's HERE!" she squealed, amusing her co-workers to no end. They'd become as fond of Wing as Al already was, and her bright personality and incisive mind were welcomed as great assets.
"Whut is?" asked Smokey, though he suspected.
"The chassis! It's DONE! Come help me unload it!" Unbidden, Smokey ambled into the saddle of the ancient Hyster forklift Al kept around the place, started its wheezy propane engine, and drove out to the loading area.
The flatbed truck at the loading dock had the chassis and had pulled up sideways to the door to allow the chassis to be offloaded. Wrapped in timber baulks and secured with strapping, the painted and cured chassis shone. The tank plate was carefully wrapped and strapped to the top of it, and the whole package glowed in the winter sunlight.
Tie-downs removed to free it, Smokey lifted it with the touch of a master and eased it into the door.
"Where d'ya want it?" he asked, to be sure.
"Assembly bay - we'll get it unstrapped, then lift it to put it on jacks." Wing was practically SQUEEing and jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a little girl with a new pony. Smiling indulgently, Smokey wheeled the forklift through the shop, depositing the chassis on the floor of the assembly bay.
Grabbing a pair of aviation snips and a pair of gloves from her kit, she cut the straps and coiled them, removing the upper timber baulks and the foam set under them. The chassis in its brilliant white colour glowed under the bay's lights, pristine and untouched.
Using a nylon strap and the forklift, they lifted each end, positioning it on tall truck jack stands to render the work area an easily-reachable waist height. Set down in its place and the forklift put away, Wing called her boss - he'd want to see this.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Nice, very nice indeed. I am quite pleased." Al ran his bare hands over the outside of the chassis as he peered at it. Between his eyes and his hands he trusted his hands more to find anomalies in the paint coating - and both found none. It was obvious that the painters had done the same outstanding job for the CEO that they'd done for the old man with the Land-Rover - and their care showed in every line.
"Lovely." He was struck with a thought. "Wing, send the cooling system pipes over to paint - get them sandblasted clean and painted AHI Blue." No one will see them unless we want them to - and when this is up on a lift it will be beautiful." The white chassis and the bright blue lines running to each side would also be a tribute to Wing - and Carroll Shelby, whose colours her car sported.
"Sure!" Her eyes glowed - she'd caught the thought right off and was happy to do so.
"Where to from here?"
"Now comes the fun bit - we get to start putting things together again. YOU get to start putting things together again."
"We want to get the chassis rollable - to that end we're going to need to refit the suspension. The bolt holes will need to be cleared of paint and galvanizing - you an I discussed this - and then the A-arms, spindles, suspension bits, steering rack and aught else will need to be bolted on. With this, the rear will need the same, and before we crack on with the powertrain and fuel systems we'll need to add the hydraulic lines. Why don't you start clearing the bolt holes, then ping me when you're ready to move on. Not that I don't trust you, but this is a big job - and I want it RIGHT for obvious reasons."
Al headed back for the rear shop - he trusted her implicitly, and she had the mechanics for support if needed.
Wing, being the methodical soul she was, opened the manual and examined the exploded diagram for the front chassis and the attachment points for all of the parts. The parts that needed to be cleaned were here, and here, and here... She marked each with a Sharpie, then turned to with a scraper and set of reamers. Soon enough all of the bolt holes were reamed to the proper size and cleared of paint drips and excess zinc.
Just to get a little ahead, Wing dug out the upper and lower A-arms and their fittings. Intrigued, she took the arms and fitted them in place, following the manual procedure - carefully preparing them , coating the bolts with the proper lubricant and setting them in place.
They looked wonderful. The gloss black against the white chassis glowed - it made the car feel so much more...real...than the pile of parts seemed to be.
Following the manual, she then got out the spindles and fitted them to the ball joints, properly setting the fasteners - just to see what it looked like, of course. To make sure everything was right, she torqued all of the fasteners to the proper specifications, checking each in the manual.
Now that all that was together, it seemed silly not to add the shock absorbers and springs - just to see how it looked...
__________________________________________
"Uhhhh, Wing, whatthehell are y'all doin'?"
Startled, Wing looked up. It was late afternoon - and she was hungry and tired. She realized she hadn't stopped since the chassis had rolled in this morning.
She looked down - and realized that the front suspension was basically assembled. The steering rack was in place and connected, as were the spindles, A-arms, shocks and springs.
It looked WONDERFUL, with the black and white components offset by the zinc of the grade 10.9 fasteners. All of the fasteners were properly torqued, the castellated nuts each held by its cotter pin, each properly bent and trimmed.
It looked just like the pictures in the manual - but none of it was supped to be there.
"OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH AL IS GOING TO KILL ME!" Wing panicked. How long was it going to take her to get this apart again?
Al wandered in, obviously only a few steps behind Smokey. His eyes widened slightly to see a front suspension and spindles where there was a bare chassis a few hours ago. He walked over,and knelt, carefully inspecting the fit of the components. He checked the springs in their perches, looked at the ball joint connections to the spindles, then turned and said "Torque wrench. Crowfoot sockets."
Trembling inside, she produced the requested items, and for the next 20 minutes Al checked the torque on all of the mission-critical fasteners, using the crowfoot sockets to avoid having to undo the castellated nuts. Once complete, he took a socket wrench and the socket rail and checked the fasteners he hadn't checked for torque previously.
He stood, wiping his hands of the anti-seize compound she'd used. He wiped off the tools and returned them to Wing for return to her roll-around. He smiled, wiped his hands again, and said "Very good. How much of this did Smokey and John help you with?"
She gulped. "None."
"Very good. Tomorrow start on the rear suspension. Ask for help - the components are much heavier back there and I don't want you hurt. When you get to the point of installing the hubs and the hydraulics let me know - I have tricks that will make it a very shipshape job - and I don't like the DeLorean default routing of the lines. You've done enough for today - go home and catch an early dinner." He turned and left.
After Al left, Wing statred at Smokey and asked "What in Hades was that all about?"
"Whut's whut about?"
"He came in after I violated what he told me to do - checked my work, then said "Veddy good" in that dopey accent of his and wandered out after telling me what to do next."
"You passed."
"I passed what? Speak English."
Smokey's accent changed - almost disappeared. He was trying very hard to be clear - and Ari listened. "What just happened was your final exam. He knows you don't have a lot of experience, and that you will need mentoring by me and the Canuck - and him, of course - but he just proved he trusts your work. He knows it's put together right, and you did everything by the book.
Think of it this way - he trusts you with other people's lives, now. He'll still be checking up on you for a while, but he knew damn' well you were not going to be able to stop when you got the holes clear. He EXPECTED you to do what you did - which is why he sent me in here to wind y'all up."
"That SNEAKY old bastard - " It was a measure of Ari's ire and amazement that the curse escaped her lips.
"Yep. That there's one of the sneakiest old bastards on the planet - but a better teacher you won't find."
"Welcome to the club - Miss Mechanic." Smokey held out his hand, and found himself wrapped in a relieved, endlessly proud angel.
"It's HERE! It's HERE!" she squealed, amusing her co-workers to no end. They'd become as fond of Wing as Al already was, and her bright personality and incisive mind were welcomed as great assets.
"Whut is?" asked Smokey, though he suspected.
"The chassis! It's DONE! Come help me unload it!" Unbidden, Smokey ambled into the saddle of the ancient Hyster forklift Al kept around the place, started its wheezy propane engine, and drove out to the loading area.
The flatbed truck at the loading dock had the chassis and had pulled up sideways to the door to allow the chassis to be offloaded. Wrapped in timber baulks and secured with strapping, the painted and cured chassis shone. The tank plate was carefully wrapped and strapped to the top of it, and the whole package glowed in the winter sunlight.
Tie-downs removed to free it, Smokey lifted it with the touch of a master and eased it into the door.
"Where d'ya want it?" he asked, to be sure.
"Assembly bay - we'll get it unstrapped, then lift it to put it on jacks." Wing was practically SQUEEing and jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a little girl with a new pony. Smiling indulgently, Smokey wheeled the forklift through the shop, depositing the chassis on the floor of the assembly bay.
Grabbing a pair of aviation snips and a pair of gloves from her kit, she cut the straps and coiled them, removing the upper timber baulks and the foam set under them. The chassis in its brilliant white colour glowed under the bay's lights, pristine and untouched.
Using a nylon strap and the forklift, they lifted each end, positioning it on tall truck jack stands to render the work area an easily-reachable waist height. Set down in its place and the forklift put away, Wing called her boss - he'd want to see this.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Nice, very nice indeed. I am quite pleased." Al ran his bare hands over the outside of the chassis as he peered at it. Between his eyes and his hands he trusted his hands more to find anomalies in the paint coating - and both found none. It was obvious that the painters had done the same outstanding job for the CEO that they'd done for the old man with the Land-Rover - and their care showed in every line.
"Lovely." He was struck with a thought. "Wing, send the cooling system pipes over to paint - get them sandblasted clean and painted AHI Blue." No one will see them unless we want them to - and when this is up on a lift it will be beautiful." The white chassis and the bright blue lines running to each side would also be a tribute to Wing - and Carroll Shelby, whose colours her car sported.
"Sure!" Her eyes glowed - she'd caught the thought right off and was happy to do so.
"Where to from here?"
"Now comes the fun bit - we get to start putting things together again. YOU get to start putting things together again."
"We want to get the chassis rollable - to that end we're going to need to refit the suspension. The bolt holes will need to be cleared of paint and galvanizing - you an I discussed this - and then the A-arms, spindles, suspension bits, steering rack and aught else will need to be bolted on. With this, the rear will need the same, and before we crack on with the powertrain and fuel systems we'll need to add the hydraulic lines. Why don't you start clearing the bolt holes, then ping me when you're ready to move on. Not that I don't trust you, but this is a big job - and I want it RIGHT for obvious reasons."
Al headed back for the rear shop - he trusted her implicitly, and she had the mechanics for support if needed.
Wing, being the methodical soul she was, opened the manual and examined the exploded diagram for the front chassis and the attachment points for all of the parts. The parts that needed to be cleaned were here, and here, and here... She marked each with a Sharpie, then turned to with a scraper and set of reamers. Soon enough all of the bolt holes were reamed to the proper size and cleared of paint drips and excess zinc.
Just to get a little ahead, Wing dug out the upper and lower A-arms and their fittings. Intrigued, she took the arms and fitted them in place, following the manual procedure - carefully preparing them , coating the bolts with the proper lubricant and setting them in place.
They looked wonderful. The gloss black against the white chassis glowed - it made the car feel so much more...real...than the pile of parts seemed to be.
Following the manual, she then got out the spindles and fitted them to the ball joints, properly setting the fasteners - just to see what it looked like, of course. To make sure everything was right, she torqued all of the fasteners to the proper specifications, checking each in the manual.
Now that all that was together, it seemed silly not to add the shock absorbers and springs - just to see how it looked...
__________________________________________
"Uhhhh, Wing, whatthehell are y'all doin'?"
Startled, Wing looked up. It was late afternoon - and she was hungry and tired. She realized she hadn't stopped since the chassis had rolled in this morning.
She looked down - and realized that the front suspension was basically assembled. The steering rack was in place and connected, as were the spindles, A-arms, shocks and springs.
It looked WONDERFUL, with the black and white components offset by the zinc of the grade 10.9 fasteners. All of the fasteners were properly torqued, the castellated nuts each held by its cotter pin, each properly bent and trimmed.
It looked just like the pictures in the manual - but none of it was supped to be there.
"OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH AL IS GOING TO KILL ME!" Wing panicked. How long was it going to take her to get this apart again?
Al wandered in, obviously only a few steps behind Smokey. His eyes widened slightly to see a front suspension and spindles where there was a bare chassis a few hours ago. He walked over,and knelt, carefully inspecting the fit of the components. He checked the springs in their perches, looked at the ball joint connections to the spindles, then turned and said "Torque wrench. Crowfoot sockets."
Trembling inside, she produced the requested items, and for the next 20 minutes Al checked the torque on all of the mission-critical fasteners, using the crowfoot sockets to avoid having to undo the castellated nuts. Once complete, he took a socket wrench and the socket rail and checked the fasteners he hadn't checked for torque previously.
He stood, wiping his hands of the anti-seize compound she'd used. He wiped off the tools and returned them to Wing for return to her roll-around. He smiled, wiped his hands again, and said "Very good. How much of this did Smokey and John help you with?"
She gulped. "None."
"Very good. Tomorrow start on the rear suspension. Ask for help - the components are much heavier back there and I don't want you hurt. When you get to the point of installing the hubs and the hydraulics let me know - I have tricks that will make it a very shipshape job - and I don't like the DeLorean default routing of the lines. You've done enough for today - go home and catch an early dinner." He turned and left.
After Al left, Wing statred at Smokey and asked "What in Hades was that all about?"
"Whut's whut about?"
"He came in after I violated what he told me to do - checked my work, then said "Veddy good" in that dopey accent of his and wandered out after telling me what to do next."
"You passed."
"I passed what? Speak English."
Smokey's accent changed - almost disappeared. He was trying very hard to be clear - and Ari listened. "What just happened was your final exam. He knows you don't have a lot of experience, and that you will need mentoring by me and the Canuck - and him, of course - but he just proved he trusts your work. He knows it's put together right, and you did everything by the book.
Think of it this way - he trusts you with other people's lives, now. He'll still be checking up on you for a while, but he knew damn' well you were not going to be able to stop when you got the holes clear. He EXPECTED you to do what you did - which is why he sent me in here to wind y'all up."
"That SNEAKY old bastard - " It was a measure of Ari's ire and amazement that the curse escaped her lips.
"Yep. That there's one of the sneakiest old bastards on the planet - but a better teacher you won't find."
"Welcome to the club - Miss Mechanic." Smokey held out his hand, and found himself wrapped in a relieved, endlessly proud angel.
Last edited by Just Old Al on Sun Feb 21, 2016 3:41 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Just for my edumication: if she's stripping off the paint and galvanization, what's left is the original steel, right?Just Old Al wrote:Wing, being the methodical soul she was, opened the manual and examined the exploded diagram for the front chassis and the attachment points for all of the parts. The parts that needed to be cleaned were here, and here, and here... She marked each with a Sharpie, then turned to with a scraper and set of reamers. Soon enough all of the bolt holes were reamed to the proper size and cleared of paint drips and excess zinc.
Just to get a little ahead, Wing dug out the upper and lower A-arms and their fittings. Intrigued, she took the arms and fitted them in place, following the manual procedure - carefully preparing them , coating the bolts with the proper lubricant and setting them in place.
Would this stripped area normally need some sort of additional protection against rust and corrosion? or would the fact that it's stainless steel, and/or the lubrication on the bolts and etc., be enough to protect it? What is "best practice" for this sort of job?
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Just Old Al
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
When things are painted and galvanized you end up with material in places you don't want it - in support tubes, bolt holes and so on. To get the bolts in and to get parts to fit together properly the excess material needs to be removed. I've done this on Land-Rover chassis - they have the same corrosion issues as DeLoreans.Dave wrote: Would this stripped area normally need some sort of additional protection against rust and corrosion? or would the fact that it's stainless steel, and/or the lubrication on the bolts and etc., be enough to protect it? What is "best practice" for this sort of job?
What you end up removing is the material that went where you didn't want it to go - no more. To keep things from corroding together you use copper slip or anti-seize (aluminium based) or something similar - with a treatment of Boeshield or the like for good measure.
If dealing with threaded fasteners usually rthe threads are plugged with silicone rubber plugs to take the high temps - or you run a tap thhrough thewm to clean them out. The amount of exposed surface area is trivial compared to the original unprotected material.
Alan
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Hansontoons
- Posts: 1007
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 9:22 pm
- Location: Houston, TX
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
In the words of Gabby Johnson: "REV'R'ND!"Just Old Al wrote:And here folks you have a classic example of Genuine Frontier Gibberish....you should be proud that your children were able to hear this!Sgt. Howard wrote: Naw... ya juss' blows out th' whatevers once y' fetch th' 'O' ring out an' everthin's juss fahn... but doan' go lettin' theyt agytaited limey sees it, he gets ...partickoolar...bout's sech thin's...
Oh, lordy.
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Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3384
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Proven fact- If you speak marginally literate lower class British with a mouthful of tobacco, you will eventually speak with a drawl.Just Old Al wrote:Never had a problem here in the States - normally if you think of them as having a mouthful of marbles you can figure it out.GlytchMeister wrote: I used to live in Tennessee, and I used to have family in Georgia. I'm better at translating "Southern" than most northerners... However... There are still some people out there that are completely unintelligible to all but their own cousins. Who may or may not be their girlfriends too.
Yorkshire and the Black Country, though....utterly incomprehensible because of the use of local vernacular that may or may not date back a few hundred years - and refer to an event or individual unknown elsewhere in reality.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
What gets bad is when someone removes the coating from the holes . . . and they weren't supposed to do that . . .Just Old Al wrote:When things are painted and galvanized you end up with material in places you don't want it - in support tubes, bolt holes and so on. To get the bolts in and to get parts to fit together properly the excess material needs to be removed. I've done this on Land-Rover chassis - they have the same corrosion issues as DeLoreans.Dave wrote:Would this stripped area normally need some sort of additional protection against rust and corrosion? or would the fact that it's stainless steel, and/or the lubrication on the bolts and etc., be enough to protect it? What is "best practice" for this sort of job?
What you end up removing is the material that went where you didn't want it to go - no more. To keep things from corroding together you use copper slip or anti-seize (aluminium based) or something similar - with a treatment of Boeshield or the like for good measure.
If dealing with threaded fasteners usually the threads are plugged with silicone rubber plugs to take the high temps - or you run a tap through them to clean them out. The amount of exposed surface area is trivial compared to the original unprotected material.
And Boeshield isn't the best choice for permanent protection.
--FreeFlier
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AmriloJim
- Posts: 1190
- Joined: Sat Aug 04, 2012 10:47 pm
- Location: 35ºN 101ºW (for the GPS-challenged, that's Amarillo TX)
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Removing the coatings from the holes also helps insure solid electrical contact for the vehicle's ground, pardon, 'earth'.
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jwhouk
- Posts: 6053
- Joined: Wed Aug 01, 2012 7:58 am
- Location: The Valley of the Sun, Arizona
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Backing up slightly to finish the visit with Cal:
---
"So why show me this, then?" Al noticed that there was a great deal of heat emanating from the back of the car. "And – is that normal?"
"Yeah, the turbos make her run incredibly hot," he said. "One other reason why I haven't taken it out to play recently. As to your question: I was in the room when the AHI board nixed the idea of supplying engines for DMC. Rock thought he could bring AHI in a new direction by being the supplier of engines for John's dream." He sighed. "The board had looked over DeLorean's financials, and didn't like what they saw. I know now that it was probably the right choice, but back then, as a soph over at the U in the mechanical engineering program, I thought it was paddock droppings."
He looked at the engine bay again. "I've contemplated putting in some insulation material and a secondary coolant system to keep the turbos from burning through its mounts, but haven't come up with a satisfactory solution."
"Well, there's lots of possibilities," Al began.
"I know – but I'm not really interested at making this street legal right now." Running his hand above the top of the engine, he slowly lowered the hatch down and closed it. "My main purpose in this was to show myself that it could be done. You know that DeLorean built his car as a dream, right? To show that it could be done. Rock had a vision for the car, too. And for our company."
He moved around, closed the gull-wing door, and motioned Al over to a set of chairs next to a tool bench.
"I spent most of my days after graduating over at R&D in St. Anthony's," he explained. "I wanted to vindicate Rock's dream of turning AHI into something special. Along the way, we came up with some damn fine ideas – some of them that changed the way the world uses farm equipment. The first hybrid engine in a tractor; an all-electric combine; and a harvester that runs on a hydrogen fuel cell."
He laughed a moment. "Yeah, we had some rough spots there in the '80's. Had a couple of offers to buy the entire company. Tenneco made some overtures to us about '89, merging us with Case. I said no, Rock said hell no, and your little Daisy said a few more things unprintable." Both men shared a laugh at that.
"Our UK branch kept us afloat from all the engines we supplied to Land Rover and Range Rover. Her Majesty even offered Rock an MBE if he ever so chose – that was how impressed she was about our engines. That success led us to make the innovations we did. And AHI came out the other side where it is now."
"Does the wife approve of all this?" Al asked innocently.
Calvin's face dropped, as did his voice.
"Charise died in a plane crash over two decades ago," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry," Al apologized.
"No need," was the reply with a wave of a hand. "Charise and I had a lot of good years together. We met after I finished grad school at Dunwoody. She was into aviation engineering – and she loved to fly."
He motioned over to the clock above his workbench; it had the Cessna logo on it. "She had this little 172 that she loved to fly and tinker with. Heck, we had this wild idea that we'd turn the back 40 of our lot into an airstrip – but we weren't able to meet the FAA requirements."
He looked down at the floor a moment. "She was flying back down from a Cessna owner's convention up in Superior, at Bong Airport. Weather didn't look threatening, so she flew down without applying any anti-icing coating on her wings. Temps dropped suddenly, and she lost control of the plane."
He inhaled deeply. "She ditched the plane in Skogman Lake, just east of Cambridge. Thing broke up. Don't know if she died from the crash or from exposure."
He bit his lip.
"I spent a lot of time after that diving into my work. Came up with a lot of stuff that helped put the company back on the map. We got a government contract with the UK to supply engines for their version of the Hummer. Rock and I built AHI back up. And, eventually, I got over Char's death. She was doing what she loved."
There were a few moments of silence.
"Did Daisy ever tell you what Rock was doing when he died?"
"No, and I never figured to ask."
"He was trying to get the front suspension of his old Suburban straightened out. He'd run over a tree branch, taking it out to the back forty of the compound, and he was going to get the front end aligned right. He called me to ask for my help. I got down there, got under the car with him, got it aligned – and he didn't crawl back out from under the car.
"Edward and I tried CPR on him for a good twenty minutes before the EMS arrived. He had a coronary – one that would have knocked out anyone. But – we did finish the car. I keep thinking he was struggling there at the end, but he somehow realized he needed to finish the alignment before he could go."
He laughed a bit. "Silly thing to think, right?"
"Not at all," Al said. "I've seen death a bit too much to understand that sentiment."
"Anyways – I put that engine in that old DeLorean to vindicate his vision. Even if it wouldn't have gone anywhere to do any good. What you need to do, now that you've got that thing, is to get it built – to vindicate his dream of completing the job. And to make his son proud."
"I think Buck's already proud of his dad," Al began.
"Oh, I know it," Calvin said. "Buck, though, knows about this dream of his dad's. I think that's why he wants your help in finishing it." He smiled for a moment. "Buck never got the techy tinkerer bug that came down the line from great-grandpa Ebbie. He appreciates it in others, though. That's why he lets me run the R&D while he runs the business side of the company."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means you have job to do," Cal said. "Go finish the car."
---
"So why show me this, then?" Al noticed that there was a great deal of heat emanating from the back of the car. "And – is that normal?"
"Yeah, the turbos make her run incredibly hot," he said. "One other reason why I haven't taken it out to play recently. As to your question: I was in the room when the AHI board nixed the idea of supplying engines for DMC. Rock thought he could bring AHI in a new direction by being the supplier of engines for John's dream." He sighed. "The board had looked over DeLorean's financials, and didn't like what they saw. I know now that it was probably the right choice, but back then, as a soph over at the U in the mechanical engineering program, I thought it was paddock droppings."
He looked at the engine bay again. "I've contemplated putting in some insulation material and a secondary coolant system to keep the turbos from burning through its mounts, but haven't come up with a satisfactory solution."
"Well, there's lots of possibilities," Al began.
"I know – but I'm not really interested at making this street legal right now." Running his hand above the top of the engine, he slowly lowered the hatch down and closed it. "My main purpose in this was to show myself that it could be done. You know that DeLorean built his car as a dream, right? To show that it could be done. Rock had a vision for the car, too. And for our company."
He moved around, closed the gull-wing door, and motioned Al over to a set of chairs next to a tool bench.
"I spent most of my days after graduating over at R&D in St. Anthony's," he explained. "I wanted to vindicate Rock's dream of turning AHI into something special. Along the way, we came up with some damn fine ideas – some of them that changed the way the world uses farm equipment. The first hybrid engine in a tractor; an all-electric combine; and a harvester that runs on a hydrogen fuel cell."
He laughed a moment. "Yeah, we had some rough spots there in the '80's. Had a couple of offers to buy the entire company. Tenneco made some overtures to us about '89, merging us with Case. I said no, Rock said hell no, and your little Daisy said a few more things unprintable." Both men shared a laugh at that.
"Our UK branch kept us afloat from all the engines we supplied to Land Rover and Range Rover. Her Majesty even offered Rock an MBE if he ever so chose – that was how impressed she was about our engines. That success led us to make the innovations we did. And AHI came out the other side where it is now."
"Does the wife approve of all this?" Al asked innocently.
Calvin's face dropped, as did his voice.
"Charise died in a plane crash over two decades ago," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry," Al apologized.
"No need," was the reply with a wave of a hand. "Charise and I had a lot of good years together. We met after I finished grad school at Dunwoody. She was into aviation engineering – and she loved to fly."
He motioned over to the clock above his workbench; it had the Cessna logo on it. "She had this little 172 that she loved to fly and tinker with. Heck, we had this wild idea that we'd turn the back 40 of our lot into an airstrip – but we weren't able to meet the FAA requirements."
He looked down at the floor a moment. "She was flying back down from a Cessna owner's convention up in Superior, at Bong Airport. Weather didn't look threatening, so she flew down without applying any anti-icing coating on her wings. Temps dropped suddenly, and she lost control of the plane."
He inhaled deeply. "She ditched the plane in Skogman Lake, just east of Cambridge. Thing broke up. Don't know if she died from the crash or from exposure."
He bit his lip.
"I spent a lot of time after that diving into my work. Came up with a lot of stuff that helped put the company back on the map. We got a government contract with the UK to supply engines for their version of the Hummer. Rock and I built AHI back up. And, eventually, I got over Char's death. She was doing what she loved."
There were a few moments of silence.
"Did Daisy ever tell you what Rock was doing when he died?"
"No, and I never figured to ask."
"He was trying to get the front suspension of his old Suburban straightened out. He'd run over a tree branch, taking it out to the back forty of the compound, and he was going to get the front end aligned right. He called me to ask for my help. I got down there, got under the car with him, got it aligned – and he didn't crawl back out from under the car.
"Edward and I tried CPR on him for a good twenty minutes before the EMS arrived. He had a coronary – one that would have knocked out anyone. But – we did finish the car. I keep thinking he was struggling there at the end, but he somehow realized he needed to finish the alignment before he could go."
He laughed a bit. "Silly thing to think, right?"
"Not at all," Al said. "I've seen death a bit too much to understand that sentiment."
"Anyways – I put that engine in that old DeLorean to vindicate his vision. Even if it wouldn't have gone anywhere to do any good. What you need to do, now that you've got that thing, is to get it built – to vindicate his dream of completing the job. And to make his son proud."
"I think Buck's already proud of his dad," Al began.
"Oh, I know it," Calvin said. "Buck, though, knows about this dream of his dad's. I think that's why he wants your help in finishing it." He smiled for a moment. "Buck never got the techy tinkerer bug that came down the line from great-grandpa Ebbie. He appreciates it in others, though. That's why he lets me run the R&D while he runs the business side of the company."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means you have job to do," Cal said. "Go finish the car."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Just Old Al
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
It was late when Al got home from Cal's house. Daisy met him as he was shedding his winter gear at the door.
As he handed his elven-leather coat and fedora off to Edward, Daisy asked him "So how's Cal?"
"Calvin's fine - he wanted my opinion on one of his project cars." Al fibbed, keeping to the vow he'd made to not talk about the DMC-12 Calvin had. Daisy knew he was lying as well - that short a description was unlike the old engineer - but kept her silence.
She sat with him and they conversed on the day as Al had his dinner, then he headed for his home office. Daisy, knowing something was decidedly on his mind, let him go with a kiss and a hug.
In the dimness of the wood-paneled room, Al did something he never did - he poured himself a drink. He dispensed a half-ounce of Jameson's finest 18-year-old reserve into one of the Waterford crystal glasses he kept for the most honoured guests. He also poured a second, full measure into one of the same glasses. Putting both on a tray with a crystal water pitcher, he walked back to his desk, set down the tray, and served his guest as well as himself.
The lights were now off in the room - only his old Tiffany desk lamp cast a pool of illumination, and that only on the surface of the desk, leaving the room beyond it in deep shadow.
Al sat back in his chair - another leather obscenity like the one in his office - and quietly contemplated the shadows. He was conflicted, to say the least, and had no idea where to begin - but begin he did.
"Rock, and I apologize for using your paddock name without your permission, I do not know what to say, or do here. You and I have never met, and will not until I come behind the Veil. However, I find myself in the position here of trying to fill your very large shoes - all four of them.
It's not your fault, or anyone's really. You are not here to do the things you wanted to, and I am in a position to do them for you. Your brother would like me to finish your work on the old DeLorean, and I can accept that request happily. I like Calvin, despite the fact that we've spent little time together.
He wants me to make your son proud of you by completing this project of yours. I don't understand it - Buck could not be prouder of you than he is today, and wouldn't be prouder even if AHI started manufacturing the ADMC-12 the way you wanted to so long ago. However, people are funny that way - and it's not just humans - so, it will be done. I am happy to do this for him, and for you - or at least I am now."
Al stopped, and touched his glass to his lips. Setting it down, he contemplated what he wanted to say next - and wondered what the shadows on the other side of the desk would say to him.
"There was a time not long ago where I was angry - angry with you, angry at you...just angry. I hated you, and everything about you. I thought of you as the ghost I could never beat, never outperform...you were the perfection I couldn't be for our lovely Rosalynd. In my mind you were the ghost at the feast - every time I turned around there was something of you there. I felt I was an interloper, living in your house, working on your projects in your building...having sex with your wife."
Damn, this was tough. Al raised the glass again, and a small drop of the liquor slid down his throat. Shuddering against the unaccustomed burn of the whisky he grimaced, set the glass down, and continued.
"I was wrong. It was a symptom of a sickness in my own mind that I felt that way about you. You are beyond the Veil and beyond caring about things like this, but I think you need to know.
I was wrong. It was my own insecurity, my own fear of loss, the fear of a man who had loved and lost before - and Rosalynd will never know that - that made me hate you though you deserved none of it. I have had my eyes opened by the people around me and by your own words as to who and what you were - and I realize that you were a good man - and the fault was all my own.
I was wrong. I think were you here during the war, you and I would have either been the deepest of friends or the bitterest of enemies - and I like to think it would have been the former. There would have been six of us up on that balcony, and we would have fought together.
Until we meet, I am sorry - and I will take care of them all for you."
With a deep sigh, Al threw the liquor back against the back of his throat, shuddering at the burn. Setting his glass on the tray with the pitcher, he reached over to pick up the other glass from the shadows at the edge of the desk - and found it empty. Silently thanking the Lord and Lady for the sign, Al set the glass on the tray and turned off the light, leaving the room to the shadows once again.
As he handed his elven-leather coat and fedora off to Edward, Daisy asked him "So how's Cal?"
"Calvin's fine - he wanted my opinion on one of his project cars." Al fibbed, keeping to the vow he'd made to not talk about the DMC-12 Calvin had. Daisy knew he was lying as well - that short a description was unlike the old engineer - but kept her silence.
She sat with him and they conversed on the day as Al had his dinner, then he headed for his home office. Daisy, knowing something was decidedly on his mind, let him go with a kiss and a hug.
In the dimness of the wood-paneled room, Al did something he never did - he poured himself a drink. He dispensed a half-ounce of Jameson's finest 18-year-old reserve into one of the Waterford crystal glasses he kept for the most honoured guests. He also poured a second, full measure into one of the same glasses. Putting both on a tray with a crystal water pitcher, he walked back to his desk, set down the tray, and served his guest as well as himself.
The lights were now off in the room - only his old Tiffany desk lamp cast a pool of illumination, and that only on the surface of the desk, leaving the room beyond it in deep shadow.
Al sat back in his chair - another leather obscenity like the one in his office - and quietly contemplated the shadows. He was conflicted, to say the least, and had no idea where to begin - but begin he did.
"Rock, and I apologize for using your paddock name without your permission, I do not know what to say, or do here. You and I have never met, and will not until I come behind the Veil. However, I find myself in the position here of trying to fill your very large shoes - all four of them.
It's not your fault, or anyone's really. You are not here to do the things you wanted to, and I am in a position to do them for you. Your brother would like me to finish your work on the old DeLorean, and I can accept that request happily. I like Calvin, despite the fact that we've spent little time together.
He wants me to make your son proud of you by completing this project of yours. I don't understand it - Buck could not be prouder of you than he is today, and wouldn't be prouder even if AHI started manufacturing the ADMC-12 the way you wanted to so long ago. However, people are funny that way - and it's not just humans - so, it will be done. I am happy to do this for him, and for you - or at least I am now."
Al stopped, and touched his glass to his lips. Setting it down, he contemplated what he wanted to say next - and wondered what the shadows on the other side of the desk would say to him.
"There was a time not long ago where I was angry - angry with you, angry at you...just angry. I hated you, and everything about you. I thought of you as the ghost I could never beat, never outperform...you were the perfection I couldn't be for our lovely Rosalynd. In my mind you were the ghost at the feast - every time I turned around there was something of you there. I felt I was an interloper, living in your house, working on your projects in your building...having sex with your wife."
Damn, this was tough. Al raised the glass again, and a small drop of the liquor slid down his throat. Shuddering against the unaccustomed burn of the whisky he grimaced, set the glass down, and continued.
"I was wrong. It was a symptom of a sickness in my own mind that I felt that way about you. You are beyond the Veil and beyond caring about things like this, but I think you need to know.
I was wrong. It was my own insecurity, my own fear of loss, the fear of a man who had loved and lost before - and Rosalynd will never know that - that made me hate you though you deserved none of it. I have had my eyes opened by the people around me and by your own words as to who and what you were - and I realize that you were a good man - and the fault was all my own.
I was wrong. I think were you here during the war, you and I would have either been the deepest of friends or the bitterest of enemies - and I like to think it would have been the former. There would have been six of us up on that balcony, and we would have fought together.
Until we meet, I am sorry - and I will take care of them all for you."
With a deep sigh, Al threw the liquor back against the back of his throat, shuddering at the burn. Setting his glass on the tray with the pitcher, he reached over to pick up the other glass from the shadows at the edge of the desk - and found it empty. Silently thanking the Lord and Lady for the sign, Al set the glass on the tray and turned off the light, leaving the room to the shadows once again.
Last edited by Just Old Al on Fri Feb 19, 2016 7:21 am, edited 1 time in total.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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jwhouk
- Posts: 6053
- Joined: Wed Aug 01, 2012 7:58 am
- Location: The Valley of the Sun, Arizona
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
---
The rear suspension, hydraulics and brakes all went in without a hitch. Tea time had come – an old custom Al had insisted upon for the plant – and they mutually agreed that it was time to put the wheels and tires on.
The new wheels were not original, as the DeLorean as it came from the plant had two different size wheels, front and back. Al went with the smaller, yet sturdier rims for both front and back – and put Goodyear Eagle stickers on both. The only two to complain about that were Greg (who thought Pirellis might be more appropriate) and – of all people to complain – that Houk fellow, who suggested Bridgestones.
The wheels were all in place, and a test was begun by lowering the chassis off the lift and onto the shop floor. Once cleared, Ari, Smokey, John, and Al all helped to push the car out onto the shop floor, with Ari guiding the steering wheel.
It rolled perfectly. A whoop and holler was followed by applause.
"All right, people – tomorrow's the day, then. Drivetrain goes in, and that's when the fun starts."
The rear suspension, hydraulics and brakes all went in without a hitch. Tea time had come – an old custom Al had insisted upon for the plant – and they mutually agreed that it was time to put the wheels and tires on.
The new wheels were not original, as the DeLorean as it came from the plant had two different size wheels, front and back. Al went with the smaller, yet sturdier rims for both front and back – and put Goodyear Eagle stickers on both. The only two to complain about that were Greg (who thought Pirellis might be more appropriate) and – of all people to complain – that Houk fellow, who suggested Bridgestones.
The wheels were all in place, and a test was begun by lowering the chassis off the lift and onto the shop floor. Once cleared, Ari, Smokey, John, and Al all helped to push the car out onto the shop floor, with Ari guiding the steering wheel.
It rolled perfectly. A whoop and holler was followed by applause.
"All right, people – tomorrow's the day, then. Drivetrain goes in, and that's when the fun starts."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Such as paint under the attempt at galvanizing.Just Old Al wrote:When things are painted and galvanized you end up with material in places you don't want it
You really should galvanize and then paint.
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Just Old Al
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
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Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Don't force me to hit you....Warrl wrote:Such as paint under the attempt at galvanizing.Just Old Al wrote:When things are painted and galvanized you end up with material in places you don't want it
You really should galvanize and then paint.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Or, to quote one of the Pythons,Just Old Al wrote:Don't force me to hit you....
"It's people like you, what cause unrest!"
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Just Old Al
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
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Re: Stainless Steel Angel
“Up a little.” WHRRRRRRRRRR.
“Down.”SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
“Up a little.” WHRRRRRRRRRR.
“More.” WHRRRRRRRRRR.
“More.” WHRRRRRRRRRR.
“Down.”SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
“Down.”SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
“Dangit boss would’ya pick a DIRECTION!”
“If a certain mechanical cretin would actually push the buttons for the right duration so that I could line this up we MIGHT be able to finish this before I die of old age!”
“Relax, boss, we’ll git’er done before tomorrow!”
“Look, you miserable excuse for an orangutan in a boiler suit…”
“ENOUGH, the two of you.” Wing had had just about enough of the bickering – and was no longer afraid to say it.
The engine installation was not going well – at all. The measurements were all correct, the mocked-up mountings fabricated to fit were in and bolted down – but the drive train was just not cooperating.
Part of the problem was the sheer size – a V8 engine even in aluminium was an unwieldly beast, and one with a transmission attached more so. The overhead crane on the rail was more than capable of lifting it – but the control system was not a thing of precision.
“I have had enough of this thing. I should have known better than to try and install an engine with a crane that has the precision of a fragmentation grenade. Wing – see that crank up there?”
“Yeah, sure. Why?” Wing was puzzled – the crank was at the rail level – about twenty feet up.
“Can you turn that?”
“I should be able to. The problem is clearance – and standing still long enough to do it.”
“Give it a try. Fly up, give it three turns clockwise, then back off and just tread air.”
FWOOMP. Panels popped in the back of the coverall, and Wing took to the air. She got to the crank, spun it, and backed off, treading air.
“That’s more LIKE IT! SIX MORE!”
“Which direction?”
“SAME!”
In again, spin, and back off.
“ONE-HALF BACK!”
“ON it!” Swoop, turn, swoop out.
“HALF BACK AGAIN!”
After several more iterations the alignment was finally nearly perfect – and could be gotten so with the use of levers at the chassis level.
With the aid of a tapered alignment pin the bolts on the rubber engine mounts were slid into place, shortly followed by the transmission mounts slotting into the mounts on the chassis. Under power, the chain was run out and the lifting points uncoupled – and the DeLorean had a drive train for the first time in its existence.
Wing alighted, stowed her wings, and had her back pounded by the three older mechanics.
“See that engine? YOU put it in! YOU! From 20-odd feet in the air, I might add. BRAVO!”
“That’s Givin’r hell, Wing!”
“Boss, yew find any more lahk this’n hire ‘em. We can get rid’a the Canuck!”
“You redneck hoser-”
“ENOUGH out of you two. You’ve been taking lessons from Al and Greg!”
Wing was too happy to grouse at the mechanics properly. For once, she’d done something no one else could – and success had come from it.
“That is truly a handsome beast.” The gleaming Chevrolet, resplendent in all the chrome work Al could find, glowed in the light from the windows.
“Weren’t you the one just calling it a “miserable sodding excuse for an air compressor” a few minutes ago?” Wing was feeling puckish – and decided to use up some of her brownie points by needling the boss just a little bit.
“Such language – and from a slip of a girl such as you!” Al was going to give as good as he got – and having the drive train in was a considerable load off his mind.
“Well….you said it, not me…and then there was “Expletive Frog Transmission” on top of it….”
“OK, if you are feeling sassy enough to question my language you’re sassy enough to get back at the car work. Get the cooling lines coupled up and let’s get the cooling system filled and purged. Fill it with oil, get the exhaust parts hooked up – let’s get it ready to go hot.”
“Hot?”
“Yes, we’re going to run that engine and transmission before we put the GRP body shell on. I want to make sure we won’t have to pull it again.”
Waling over to the whiteboard in the assembly bay, Al grabbed a marker and started to scrawl.
“Now that the engine’s in it’s just the first step. We need to couple up the clutch hydraulics, fill and bleed them, couple up the cooling system, fill and bleed it, and fill the engine with oil and spin it till it primes up. We might have to yank and pack the pump gears to get it to go – not unusual in Chevy engines in my experience. JOHN!”
“Yes?”
“Computer on that thing. Move a bench next to the chassis, and let’s wire it up in a test-bench rig. Put the battery on the bench, another to spin the starter and let’s get it ready to light off. I want ALL the instruments hooked up even with just temporary setups – I do NOT want to risk cooking several thousand dollars of engine.
Make DAMNED sure we have the diagnostic laptop on its ODB-2 port – this thing is going to be wired like a test pilot before we EVER apply 12 volts to it.”
He turned to a box on the floor, opened it, and removed two wrapped packages. “And before you bolt anything to the top of that engine – put these on.”
Wing unwrapped one of the long, narrow bundles – and sucked in her breath in wonder.
The content of the package was a valve cover – but what a valve cover.
Cast aluminum, the cover had been buffed to a bright aluminium glow. The top of the cover…was another story.
The top of the cover had the AHI centaur with a scythe cast into it, with the word Alexander in the same font that was used on all AHI equipment. A line above and below the word had been cast in as well to emphasize the flow of the word. The lettering, centaur and lining had been filled with AHI Blue and White respectively, and the covers clear-coated and polished.
“I had these made for it – a friend of mine with a foundry did them as green sand casts, then machined them to fit. Call them a present for Rock – he’ll get to see the Alexander name on a DMC engine after all.”
“They’re wonderful, boss.”
“Thank you, Ari – I think so too. So will Buck when he sees them – so let him find them by himself.” Al looked down on the covers, bold in their paint and engravings, and felt a pang of guilt. He was going to get this job done right, to honor the father of his stepson, the brother of a friend, and a damn good engineer he’d never had the fortune to meet.
So be it.
“Down.”SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
“Up a little.” WHRRRRRRRRRR.
“More.” WHRRRRRRRRRR.
“More.” WHRRRRRRRRRR.
“Down.”SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
“Down.”SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
“Dangit boss would’ya pick a DIRECTION!”
“If a certain mechanical cretin would actually push the buttons for the right duration so that I could line this up we MIGHT be able to finish this before I die of old age!”
“Relax, boss, we’ll git’er done before tomorrow!”
“Look, you miserable excuse for an orangutan in a boiler suit…”
“ENOUGH, the two of you.” Wing had had just about enough of the bickering – and was no longer afraid to say it.
The engine installation was not going well – at all. The measurements were all correct, the mocked-up mountings fabricated to fit were in and bolted down – but the drive train was just not cooperating.
Part of the problem was the sheer size – a V8 engine even in aluminium was an unwieldly beast, and one with a transmission attached more so. The overhead crane on the rail was more than capable of lifting it – but the control system was not a thing of precision.
“I have had enough of this thing. I should have known better than to try and install an engine with a crane that has the precision of a fragmentation grenade. Wing – see that crank up there?”
“Yeah, sure. Why?” Wing was puzzled – the crank was at the rail level – about twenty feet up.
“Can you turn that?”
“I should be able to. The problem is clearance – and standing still long enough to do it.”
“Give it a try. Fly up, give it three turns clockwise, then back off and just tread air.”
FWOOMP. Panels popped in the back of the coverall, and Wing took to the air. She got to the crank, spun it, and backed off, treading air.
“That’s more LIKE IT! SIX MORE!”
“Which direction?”
“SAME!”
In again, spin, and back off.
“ONE-HALF BACK!”
“ON it!” Swoop, turn, swoop out.
“HALF BACK AGAIN!”
After several more iterations the alignment was finally nearly perfect – and could be gotten so with the use of levers at the chassis level.
With the aid of a tapered alignment pin the bolts on the rubber engine mounts were slid into place, shortly followed by the transmission mounts slotting into the mounts on the chassis. Under power, the chain was run out and the lifting points uncoupled – and the DeLorean had a drive train for the first time in its existence.
Wing alighted, stowed her wings, and had her back pounded by the three older mechanics.
“See that engine? YOU put it in! YOU! From 20-odd feet in the air, I might add. BRAVO!”
“That’s Givin’r hell, Wing!”
“Boss, yew find any more lahk this’n hire ‘em. We can get rid’a the Canuck!”
“You redneck hoser-”
“ENOUGH out of you two. You’ve been taking lessons from Al and Greg!”
Wing was too happy to grouse at the mechanics properly. For once, she’d done something no one else could – and success had come from it.
“That is truly a handsome beast.” The gleaming Chevrolet, resplendent in all the chrome work Al could find, glowed in the light from the windows.
“Weren’t you the one just calling it a “miserable sodding excuse for an air compressor” a few minutes ago?” Wing was feeling puckish – and decided to use up some of her brownie points by needling the boss just a little bit.
“Such language – and from a slip of a girl such as you!” Al was going to give as good as he got – and having the drive train in was a considerable load off his mind.
“Well….you said it, not me…and then there was “Expletive Frog Transmission” on top of it….”
“OK, if you are feeling sassy enough to question my language you’re sassy enough to get back at the car work. Get the cooling lines coupled up and let’s get the cooling system filled and purged. Fill it with oil, get the exhaust parts hooked up – let’s get it ready to go hot.”
“Hot?”
“Yes, we’re going to run that engine and transmission before we put the GRP body shell on. I want to make sure we won’t have to pull it again.”
Waling over to the whiteboard in the assembly bay, Al grabbed a marker and started to scrawl.
“Now that the engine’s in it’s just the first step. We need to couple up the clutch hydraulics, fill and bleed them, couple up the cooling system, fill and bleed it, and fill the engine with oil and spin it till it primes up. We might have to yank and pack the pump gears to get it to go – not unusual in Chevy engines in my experience. JOHN!”
“Yes?”
“Computer on that thing. Move a bench next to the chassis, and let’s wire it up in a test-bench rig. Put the battery on the bench, another to spin the starter and let’s get it ready to light off. I want ALL the instruments hooked up even with just temporary setups – I do NOT want to risk cooking several thousand dollars of engine.
Make DAMNED sure we have the diagnostic laptop on its ODB-2 port – this thing is going to be wired like a test pilot before we EVER apply 12 volts to it.”
He turned to a box on the floor, opened it, and removed two wrapped packages. “And before you bolt anything to the top of that engine – put these on.”
Wing unwrapped one of the long, narrow bundles – and sucked in her breath in wonder.
The content of the package was a valve cover – but what a valve cover.
Cast aluminum, the cover had been buffed to a bright aluminium glow. The top of the cover…was another story.
The top of the cover had the AHI centaur with a scythe cast into it, with the word Alexander in the same font that was used on all AHI equipment. A line above and below the word had been cast in as well to emphasize the flow of the word. The lettering, centaur and lining had been filled with AHI Blue and White respectively, and the covers clear-coated and polished.
“I had these made for it – a friend of mine with a foundry did them as green sand casts, then machined them to fit. Call them a present for Rock – he’ll get to see the Alexander name on a DMC engine after all.”
“They’re wonderful, boss.”
“Thank you, Ari – I think so too. So will Buck when he sees them – so let him find them by himself.” Al looked down on the covers, bold in their paint and engravings, and felt a pang of guilt. He was going to get this job done right, to honor the father of his stepson, the brother of a friend, and a damn good engineer he’d never had the fortune to meet.
So be it.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
-
jwhouk
- Posts: 6053
- Joined: Wed Aug 01, 2012 7:58 am
- Location: The Valley of the Sun, Arizona
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
---
The boys at the machining plant on the other side of the Interstate were happily munching away on their chocolate-covered Oreos when their boss clopped into the breakroom.
"Larsen! Douglas! Aren't you two supposed to be getting the CAD/CAM rejiggered for the run of 400-series plates?"
"Taking a break for cookies, sir," Larsen said after washing away the crumbs with a carton of milk procured from the staff fridge. "Richer Engineering sent us over a 'thank you' for the custom headers we sent 'em."
"Feel free to take one, sir - they got enough for the whole department." Douglas motioned over to the table, where there were several bags of Chocolate-dipped Oreos sitting on the table - one already opened and enjoyed by the pair.
"There are times I truly enjoy working for this company," the boss said as he grabbed a couple of the cookies and began to munch down.
The boys at the machining plant on the other side of the Interstate were happily munching away on their chocolate-covered Oreos when their boss clopped into the breakroom.
"Larsen! Douglas! Aren't you two supposed to be getting the CAD/CAM rejiggered for the run of 400-series plates?"
"Taking a break for cookies, sir," Larsen said after washing away the crumbs with a carton of milk procured from the staff fridge. "Richer Engineering sent us over a 'thank you' for the custom headers we sent 'em."
"Feel free to take one, sir - they got enough for the whole department." Douglas motioned over to the table, where there were several bags of Chocolate-dipped Oreos sitting on the table - one already opened and enjoyed by the pair.
"There are times I truly enjoy working for this company," the boss said as he grabbed a couple of the cookies and began to munch down.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
-
Just Old Al
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Stainless Steel Angel
"SHUT IT OFF! SHUT IT OFF!"
A plume of smoke wafted through the assembly bay. On the table next to the DeLorean chassis, smoke and a few puny sparks licked up from a nest of wires on the back of an aluminium gauge panel.
"OK, what the Hades just went up, John?" Al, attracted like a shark to blood by the smell of carbonizing components, came out of the machine shop and down to the assembly bay.
"Voltage regulator. The electronic kluge you built to run all those gauges was marginal at best - and it finally decided to blow. Damn impressive smoke show when the capacitors went up - looks like the output pass transistor shorted."
"OK. Grab a stock Lucas one off the shelf - that will get us by till I can rebuild it."
Wing was on talon tips. The electronics package had checked out, but required modifications to work alone as it was. Then, the diagnostic computer needed updating - she'd handled that while John had finished the EFI hookup. Now this - the test instrument cluster decided to vomit its voltage regulator.
"How long is THIS going to take to fix?" Her anxiety, clearly telegraphing through, caused John to smile. He'd been young once, too, despite his colleagues’ insistence he'd been born old.
"Not long. This is the type of hiccup you get when you build temporary rigs to do things - sometimes they don’t work. At least none of the car's systems were damaged. We'll be ready to go in a few minutes."
She couldn't complain, she guessed. The engine, EFI and its computer system all checked out at a static level. The coils were seeing pulses, the fuel rail had pressure, the cooling system was full and ready to go...so far, so good.
So far.
John returned with a regulator and spliced it in in place of the handmade hack - which he threw in the trash.
"Al said he was going to rebuild that."
"Over my dead body. I am going to put a crowbar in his wallet and buy a proper one - we'll be using this test rig again and I am tired of his improvisations."
The main switch went on - again - and Wing tensed, expecting another smoke show. However, the lights on the panel all glowed steadily, and the gauges showed their readings with nary a flicker.
John flipped another switch, and with a whir the DeLoren's fuel pump started to build pressure. The whir slowed and deepened, as the pump completely pressurized he rail.
"Push this."
Wing pushed the button, and the big V8 cranked...and cranked...and sputtered.
She let go - and it stopped.
"Hit it again."
Thumb down on the button and the engine sputtered, caught, slowed, caught again, and settled down to a throaty roar. Reaching over to the throttle body, John blipped the throttle - at which the engine GROWLed, then settled back. GROWL. GROWL. GROWL again, then he opened it up and held it. Roaring in the confined space, the engine sang its song of power.
Wing was ecstatic. The big V8 sounded fantastic - an elemental force.
"How do the instruments look?" Wing scanned them, having checked the specifications earlier.
"Oil pressure fantastic, coolant temp is coming up, RPM steady at idle, fuel pressure is good."
"What's the computer got to say on the engine parameters?"
"The O2 sensors are doing their thing, readings are good before and after the cats, timing is good...it looks fantastic."
"GOOD! Let's let her run, eh?" Standing together, the two mechanics admired the roar of the V8, and the smooth operation it showed. After a few minutes, they began to shine lights around the car, looking for coolant and other fluid leaks. One or two minor seepages were noted, and earmarked for repair.
After a half-hour John flipped the switches, and the engine settled into quiet again. With that, Wing began to Snoopy dance, SQUEEing like the young woman she was.
"Funny you waited to do that..." John chuckled.
"I was working. No SQUEE when working..." she added, impishly.
Al wandered in - he'd deliberately waited outside out of notice. This was not his moment, but theirs.
"I heard lovely noises from in here. How does it look?" The words tumbled out of Wing, a contrast to the methodical speech of the older engineer. Between the two, they produced a concise report of the engine run – much to Al’s satisfaction
"Very good. Sounds to me like we've got a car to put a body onto! Wing, prep the body - that's tomorrow's task -and it will be all-hands I suspect. Good show, all!"
A plume of smoke wafted through the assembly bay. On the table next to the DeLorean chassis, smoke and a few puny sparks licked up from a nest of wires on the back of an aluminium gauge panel.
"OK, what the Hades just went up, John?" Al, attracted like a shark to blood by the smell of carbonizing components, came out of the machine shop and down to the assembly bay.
"Voltage regulator. The electronic kluge you built to run all those gauges was marginal at best - and it finally decided to blow. Damn impressive smoke show when the capacitors went up - looks like the output pass transistor shorted."
"OK. Grab a stock Lucas one off the shelf - that will get us by till I can rebuild it."
Wing was on talon tips. The electronics package had checked out, but required modifications to work alone as it was. Then, the diagnostic computer needed updating - she'd handled that while John had finished the EFI hookup. Now this - the test instrument cluster decided to vomit its voltage regulator.
"How long is THIS going to take to fix?" Her anxiety, clearly telegraphing through, caused John to smile. He'd been young once, too, despite his colleagues’ insistence he'd been born old.
"Not long. This is the type of hiccup you get when you build temporary rigs to do things - sometimes they don’t work. At least none of the car's systems were damaged. We'll be ready to go in a few minutes."
She couldn't complain, she guessed. The engine, EFI and its computer system all checked out at a static level. The coils were seeing pulses, the fuel rail had pressure, the cooling system was full and ready to go...so far, so good.
So far.
John returned with a regulator and spliced it in in place of the handmade hack - which he threw in the trash.
"Al said he was going to rebuild that."
"Over my dead body. I am going to put a crowbar in his wallet and buy a proper one - we'll be using this test rig again and I am tired of his improvisations."
The main switch went on - again - and Wing tensed, expecting another smoke show. However, the lights on the panel all glowed steadily, and the gauges showed their readings with nary a flicker.
John flipped another switch, and with a whir the DeLoren's fuel pump started to build pressure. The whir slowed and deepened, as the pump completely pressurized he rail.
"Push this."
Wing pushed the button, and the big V8 cranked...and cranked...and sputtered.
She let go - and it stopped.
"Hit it again."
Thumb down on the button and the engine sputtered, caught, slowed, caught again, and settled down to a throaty roar. Reaching over to the throttle body, John blipped the throttle - at which the engine GROWLed, then settled back. GROWL. GROWL. GROWL again, then he opened it up and held it. Roaring in the confined space, the engine sang its song of power.
Wing was ecstatic. The big V8 sounded fantastic - an elemental force.
"How do the instruments look?" Wing scanned them, having checked the specifications earlier.
"Oil pressure fantastic, coolant temp is coming up, RPM steady at idle, fuel pressure is good."
"What's the computer got to say on the engine parameters?"
"The O2 sensors are doing their thing, readings are good before and after the cats, timing is good...it looks fantastic."
"GOOD! Let's let her run, eh?" Standing together, the two mechanics admired the roar of the V8, and the smooth operation it showed. After a few minutes, they began to shine lights around the car, looking for coolant and other fluid leaks. One or two minor seepages were noted, and earmarked for repair.
After a half-hour John flipped the switches, and the engine settled into quiet again. With that, Wing began to Snoopy dance, SQUEEing like the young woman she was.
"Funny you waited to do that..." John chuckled.
"I was working. No SQUEE when working..." she added, impishly.
Al wandered in - he'd deliberately waited outside out of notice. This was not his moment, but theirs.
"I heard lovely noises from in here. How does it look?" The words tumbled out of Wing, a contrast to the methodical speech of the older engineer. Between the two, they produced a concise report of the engine run – much to Al’s satisfaction
"Very good. Sounds to me like we've got a car to put a body onto! Wing, prep the body - that's tomorrow's task -and it will be all-hands I suspect. Good show, all!"
Last edited by Just Old Al on Thu Feb 18, 2016 7:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."