Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

Finally, after months of dicking around, I took the Bedford ambulance up to Southport on the back of the Bedford transporter on Friday evening. Having rebuilt the top end - twice - and with not long to go before the MoT expires, I thought it's now or never.

So, at about 7pm, after the rush hour had died down (and, hopefully, those nice VOSA guys had knocked off) I set off. After about 15 miles, the temperature gauge was reading about three-quarters hot, but I figured it was a warm evening, and it was carrying a pretty heavy load. I joined the M6 at junction 15, and by 16 it was boiling so I pulled off the motorway feeling something like this:

This was Jessie, and clearly the Hook A Duck stall at the local travelling fun fair was just too much for her. Although, to be honest, this was the demeanour of most of the visitors to our local fair. And the staff, too.

Anyway, I let the truck cool down and got the water out to top up the radiator. Hmmm, it hasn't lost a drop. So I set off again. This time, I made it to Knutsford before stopping again. Same thing - boiling, but no water loss. I'd also noticed that if I put it in neutral and coasted down hills, it'd cool down a bit. While i was stopped, I had a bright idea - remove the in-cab engine cover and get some air circulating, cool the engine bay down a bit. It didn't make the damnedest bit of difference.

What I did notice, after coming off at junction 20-odd, was that it was now dark, but my exhaust downpipe was glowing bloody orange! WTF! It was running beautifully, but must be running so lean ... well, that could account for why it burned its valves out before.

The following day, before setting off, I thought a quick carburettor rebuild might be in order. I hadn't touched the carb previously, thinking "if it ain't broke...", but it clearly was so I had it apart, cleaned it, had the jets out, blew through everything with compressed air, removed the crap from the built-in filter and put it back together, then set off homeward. I would say I was going home empty, but a combination of circumstances meant I was actually going home with a scrap, engine-less Rover 620 on the back...

Same bloody scenario - still running way hot, and occasionally boiling. I stopped at a petrol station near junction 20-odd, as I'd had an idea. The built-in filter had been full of shite. There's a filter screen in the fuel pump too, isn't there?! The petrol station couldn't sell me a Philips screwdriver. Dog food? Yes. A bag of flour? Naturally. Sixteen different flavours of air freshener? No problem. A screwdriver? Fat chance. I pressed on to Lymm truck stop, and went to the 24 hour shop at the fuel station there. It was shut. Clearly it's open 24 hours, but not in a row. I ended up borrowing a screwdriver from the lady behind the counter at WH Smiths, who apologised for her newsagent shop not stocking screwdrivers - bless her - and lent me one from behind the counter. I had the top off the fuel pump and found this:

Crud, metal shavings, insects..?! But it still didn't make any difference. Two more stops on the way home and I finally got back five hours after setting off, still none the wiser about why it's running lean.

I have since had a brainwave. The brakes are shite, but the pedal is rock solid. The servo doesn't seem to do anything at all. It certainly doesn't lessen the pedal effort. Could the engine just be sucking in fresh air through the servo vacuum pipe? But surely it would affect the idle more than anything, whereas mine seems to suffer more at high revs/cruising speed? Any ideas?

Eugene

Fun With Corners

I missed Hot Rods & Hills this year. Again. Despite the fact that it was the best event I went to in 2009 that has so far been the only running of this event that I've actually made it along to. Damn.

Still, the silver lining is that I had to go to the inaugural American Speedfest event at Brands Hatch on Sunday June 9th, and Christ almighty what an incredible event that was. An international-standard venue, a packed bill of racing and the organisational abilities of MSV meant hundreds of cars on display trackside and plenty of other entertainment for the visitors, which apparently numbered almost 20,000. That's not dicking about.

Top of the bill was the Euro Racecar series, which is a European version of NASCAR but on road circuits. It was cool, lots of V8 grunty power and some close racing, but once the pack had strung out a bit it seemed rather processional. The Legends had an endurance race - 40 minutes. I'm not sure whose endurance this was meant to test, the drivers' or the spectators', but it took some enduring. There was an Intermarque series for what seemed to be large go-karts with odd jelly-mould bodies, but I didn't get that at all. Pick-up trucks looked lots of fun, though, even though they're four-pots.

The true stars of the show for me were Bernie's V8s. Now this series really appeals to me. The criteria are thus: 1. The cars must be production based, no kit cars. 2. They must be V8s. 3. Convertibles must have roofs up or hardtops. 4. No whingers. That's my kind of rule book.

 Obviously there were stacks of Corvettes, Camaros and Mustangs filling the grid, but in amongst them you'd find some really rare stuff like this (above), an Iso Rivolta with a 327 Chevy V8 and quad Webers. There was a Ford Maverick, which looked the business, and an Opel Manta painted in a stars'n'stripes paintjob that really kicked some arse. Apparently it used to race in Thundersaloons, or some such?

There were TR7 V8s like this above, and a MkI Capri that the announcer said was a Perana but I'm not so sure. Actually, I couldn't give two shits whether it was a Perana or not, it looked the dog's and went like frozen shite off a shiny shovel.

These guys all lined up behind Bernie's old Fifties Chevy pick-up on the grid, then went for a parade lap before Bernie peeled off and they took the green flag as a rolling start. If you can imagine 30-odd V8s on a rolling start when you're stood right next to the start line ... I think a little bit of love-wee came out. The fastest cars on the day were the Brits - an MGB V8 took both race wins, with this SD1 running a close second all the way

Of course the Yanks have more power, but the MGB was close to half their weight. He and the SD1 swapped the lead once a lap for five laps. And that's racing...

And it has to be said that none of these guys were at all precious about their rides. There was one guy with a Shelby GT350, and I don't know what was under the bonnet, but when he opened it up on the back straight... oh boy. Imagine a jet engine on the brink of orgasm. Although it was me who had to fight the urge to give Mr Winkie a good beating. One guy in a Sunbeam Tiger lost the back end getting back on the power after Druids and fetched the tyre wall a mighty wallop. He restarted it, reversed out of the tyres and got the fuck on with it. I think he finished fourth. One guy with an Aston Martin DBS V8 stoved the front end in in the first race. Did it stop him? Did it arse-burgers. One guy with a Cobra Daytona rep tore the middle out of one of his rear Halibrands...

At the end of the day there was a parade lap for all the American cars on show. They lined up, three abreast, and filled well over half the Indy circuit. One guy in a C4 Corvette pulled onto the track, gave it a load and ended up backwards into the gravel at Paddock. Total time spent on track? About 10 seconds and 100 feet. Total number of cars who drove past him thinking "Wanker"? About 200. Bless.

This event has been Brands Hatch's biggest event of the year. At 9am, I joined the back of the queue to get in. It was four miles away, on the M25. The event outsold the BTCC and the DTM events, no problem. Some of the marshals told me they hadn't seen crowds like this for a non-motorbike event since the last British Grand Prix at Brands Hatch ... that was in 1986, when Nigel Mansell won. It's been so successful that they've already pencilled in Speedfest II for the same weekend next year. And if you can't make it to HR&H, this is definitely worth the trip.

Eugene

Gary's Glitters

Last weekend was Gary's Picnic / Yanks weekend at Shakey County. Last year, this weekend was the one truly glorious, sunny, hot weekend we had all year; this year wasn't quite up to the same scorching standards but it was still beautiful. Having arrived on Friday evening, I set the caravan up, handed the car keys to the missus and that was pretty much the last I saw of them all weekend...

Last time we were up at York, the startline marshall had noticed a drip of water at the front of the Mustang. By this time, a few weeks later, the drip was beyond a joke - my front crossmember was more moist than the chairs at the WI when Daniel Craig was guest speaker. What follows shows not only how indebted I am to some people, but how a gang of mates in the car scene will put themselves out to help a fellow in need....

Just before setting off, I'd asked Graham (who I knew was going to the event) if he had a spare water pump. He didn't, but he put a message on the Fox Doctors Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/groups/FoxDoctorsUK/) to ask if anyone else had. Two guys - Steve and Don, were heading up to Manchester on the Saturday to buy more Fox bits, and said they'd got a second-hand pump. After a day's racing on the Saturday - well, there wasn't THAT much racing due to oil-downs and such - they said they'd detoured to the M40 and could I meet them at j15 at 4pm? Graham gave me a lift there, and, as good as their word, at 4pm, an old Ford Ranger full of Fox bits came off the motorway and the guys handed me a water pump, and Graham a rear axle! Would they take any money for it? Not on your Nellie - I had to force some cash on them. What top guys.

Back at Shakey, I whipped the old water pump off, which was dribbling through the lower vent hole like a gerbil on Ex-Lax, and fitted the new one. I'd had the foresight to bring a gasket and some gasket-goo, so it should have been fairly straightforward, but the old gasket was well baked onto the block. I headed down to the Motorshack stand to get a scraper, but he was shut; fortunately, Simon Boot was nearby and handed me some Stanley blades which got the job done with minimal loss of fingers.

Sunday was another blinding day, and, now watertight, 'er indoors was off and running again. Monday was a different matter. For some reason, the place half emptied on Sunday night, and there was hardly anybody about on Monday, so she had a lap time of about 3 minutes at one point. Her best time of the weekend was 15.03 - not bad for a car with 32psi in the budget radials and the shifter in D. 

The photos above are courtesy of Martin from Drakie's Americans - see the linky to the right for more. 

Also, having lashed up my fan belt tensioner after snapping the LEFT-HAND THREAD bolt by not knowing it was a left-hand thread bolt, I got a new bolt in the post from Mark Butterworth. Somebody else willing to put himself out to help a fellow in need. It restores one's faith in humanity, it really does.

Oh, and a little money-saving tip I discovered whilst putting the Bedford back together: prevent wastage of expensive anti-freeze by fitting the bottom hose BEFORE filling the radiator... twat.

Eugene

PPC In the Park, then Pissed in a Field

Saturday was a busy day for me. I got up early (for me) and headed off to PPC In The Park at Mallory Park in Leicestershire. I really like this venue, it has a lot of character, and I haven't been for years. PPC ITP is a sort of open track day where interesting and oddball stuff can buy a 15-minute slot on track and go for it. There was everything there, and we even got a handful of NSCC cars along - myself, James, John P, Derek B and Simon B, plus new guy Andrew E in another TVR.

I'd always fancied going, but it was Martin Drake's kind offer of a free ticket that really swung the deal. In the pits, Simon's Bootlegger Camaro was certainly the favourite of the camera-phone crew, but sadly not the tech inspectors. With the local council paying a worrying amount of attention to goings-on at Mallory, plus a surprise visit from the clipboards, Mallory Park had dropped the noise limit to just 98 decibels, and even with his four-box duals on, Simon still fell foul. Bugger.

Silver lining, though - Simon let me have his track slot! What a gentleman. The NSCC was out in force in group G, and having unloaded all the junk and shite from the Mustang I passed my own noise test and headed out on track. Jeeez, I wish I'd checked my tyre pressures ... erm, this month. Still, driving a car is most fun when you're on the limit. A full-weight Mustang on budget radials with an automatic gearbox that changes up and down on its own schedule finds the limit a lot quicker than some lightweight, race-bred special! I got blown away by a Morgan, a white Fiesta Popular Plus (yeah, right) and plenty of other stuff, but had a great time in the process.

I also got dusted off by a real sleeper, a Rover 110 with proper patina, full leather and wood interior and stock tyres. Under the bonnet was a Corvette small-block and T56 six-speed manual, and even with stock single-circuit non-servo brakes, he still blew me away. He said he was struggling halfway down the straights, as the stock SU fuel pump couldn't quite keep up...!

Just as I'd loaded all my junk back into the boot, Simon asked me if I wanted his second track slot! I did, so I unloaded everything again and went back out after lunch. This time I had a clue about what I was doing, and my mission was to try to shadow John. I now had a passenger - Sarah B - who had been out with John in the first session, and was kindly taking some photos for me. I tried my damnedest, and managed to keep John in my sights. Sarah said that riding shotgun with John was a pleasant and relaxing experience, whereas with me it was a tyre-sqealing, oversteering thrill ride, which is a nice way of saying that John knew what he was doing and I was going at it like a dog at the postman's leg. She also had to upbraid me for waving to Womble on the spectator banking at Shaw's hairpin.

We got dusted down by the same Fiesta again, but I didn't care. I'd had the most fun I've had all year. Derek had a spin in his TVR but lived to tell the tale, while Neil L'Alouette managed to lightly kiss the barrier in his big-block Chevy pick-up, a bent bumper and cracked fibreglass wing bearing the brunt o the damage. After the clipboards had gone home, the organisers did let Simon out on track for a few laps, bless 'em, but I was already queueing to get out by then.

That evening, I went up to join the other half at a bike rally near Garstang. It was around 9pm by the time Womble, Sarah and I got there, and the evening's festivities were just getting going. I've been to a few club bike rallies now, and they always slightly puzzle me. People turn up on a Friday, pitch a tent, get pissed, then some go for a ride out on the Saturday but most just start getting pissed again before the main evening's drinking session, then on Sunday morning they pack up and go home. Aside from the mode of transport upon which they arrived, there doesn't seem to be much "bike" about a bike rally - it's just people getting pissed in a field. That, to me, seems like a weekend wasted - at least at the strip there's a day's drag racing in between the getting pissed.

However, the evening's clubhouse bash was a treat. Two bands and a DJ, and rock tunes all the way. The bar sold bottles of Spitfire, Speckled Hen, Bishop's Finger etc for £2 a pop - cheaper than my local Co-op - and it went on into the early hours.

Overall it was a top day at the track, and a top night at the bar. It was just a shame they had to be about 150 miles apart.

Eugene

Valve Lap Dancing

Here's the latest in the ongoing (read: dragging on tediously) saga of the Bedford CF with the crook cylinder head.
I have decided to go back to the original cylinder head. Yes, it was cack and the valve seats had receded so far they were almost in another engine belonging to a passing Peugeot, but at least it was a known quantity. So, I set about the head with some degreaser and a toothbrush.

After cleaning it up and scraping off all the welded-on remnants of the previous gaskets, it began to look okay so I had all the valves out. Obviously, the exhaust valve with the chunk missing would need replacing, so I nicked one out of the other head. The inlet valve on pot #2 was absolutely caked with shite, which would suggest a lot of oil down the guide, and lo and behold the stem seal was knacked.

I cleaned the valves up on the poor man's lathe (put the valve in a drill and use a screwdriver to chip the shite off) and they came up alright, though the exhaust valve in pot #1 was showing some radial cracks so I nicked another out of the other head and began the tedious and charmless lapping-in process.

It was while lapping in #4 exhaust valve (the one that had a chunk missing) that I spotted a tiny crack in the seat. It's so tiny I could barely get a photo of it, but if you look hard enough at the photo, at about 4 o'clock on the valve seat there's a bloody crack. God damn it. I don't think it actually goes further than the seat, and after all this mither I'll just have to live with it. I also found a tiny bit of play in all of the valve guides except #1 exhaust, where there was a sodding shedload of play - about 2mm at the valve head. This will get a new stem seal and it had better make the bloody best of it. I've ordered a new head set off eBay (which is due to arrive tomorrow) so, at this rate, I should just about have the poxy old nail up and running in time for it to fail its MoT in July.

In other news, I went along to the NASC Neil's Springnationals at Drayton Manor yesterday. What has happened to that show? There seemed to be about 150 cars, and despite the organisers' best efforts, the atmos was truly lacking. The weather was sodding miserable, raining, windy and cold, and everyone looked like they'd rather be somewhere else, but I spoke to some people who had done the weekend, and they said that the evening do in the clubhouse was just as lifeless, but for no good reason. Where has the spark gone from this event? It was such a blinder, back when the HRG crew helped the set-up and organisation, it really was what you spent all winter looking forward to. Now, I went along for the day, got there at 12 and had buggered off again by 3. Most of the showfield had thrown in the towel even before then. I don't know what's gone wrong - it doesn't seem to be a lack of anything on the NASC's part. What's the answer?

Eugene

Off With Its Head!

I've been posting a lot of tripe on the HRG Faecebook page about my Bedford CF cylinder head woes. The latest was that I'd replaced the cylinder head with one from another 2.3 CF and now it boils within 7 miles. Having checked everything, flushed the system and checked everything again, I had to take the head back off. First thing I noticed was that the little bypass hose between the water pump and this little water manifold bolted to the front of the block was definitely on its last legs.

It was looking a bit plump before the multiple boiling episodes, but now it was looking like a pot-bellied dick. Anyway, it came off along with the water pump which, naturally, was fine. I was hoping that would be the nice, easy explanation. No such luck. With the head on the bench I gave it a damn good coat of looking-at but failed to see any problems.

It all looked pretty good. There was a lot of sludge that had accumulated in the water galleries despite repeated flushing, but not enough to actually stop the water circulation. I checked the intake manifold side against the old original head.

The original is on top; the replacement below (with the blue gasket-goo all over it).As you can see, the water jacket hole on the left-hand end is a lot bigger on the original, and there are a few slight machining differences, but not enough to cause any major issues, surely? I was starting to get really pissed off with the whole show. Then I had a shufti at the gasket itself, the brand-new, very expensive Payen head gasket that had covered about 25 miles.

Well bugger me with a gypsy's stick, there's a dink in it. A little groove going from No3 piston straight into the water jacket. If anything, this photo makes it look worse than it is, but it could certainly account for pressurising the cooling system, couldn't it? But here's the issue: I'm damn sure the damage wasn't there when I fitted the gasket, but did I do the damage while FITTING the head or while REMOVING it again afterwards?! Because the engine is half under the bonnet and half in the cab, plus it's canted over at 45 degrees, there's no easy way of dropping the head onto the block, especially not for a slack-sided glass-back like me. I could well have done this while fitting the head to the block, or equally easily while taking it off again.
I think what I'll end up doing is putting an exhaust valve from the head I've just removed into the original head, grinding half a mil off the tops of the valve stems and putting it all back together. It does mean I've got to shell out for another gasket set, though, damn it.
To top it all off, I thought I'd better flush the remaining sludge out of the water galleries in the block. I also thought it would be a fine idea to wait until it was almost dark to do this. Poke hose pipe in one gallery, watch rusty sludge and bum-gravy pour from another. Poke hose into another gallery, watch same crap pour from another. Poke hose into another water gallery ... and, nothing. Ah! Could this be the cause of the overheating?

No, it couldn't, you great bell-end, because you've just put the hose down one of the oil drain-backs and filled your sump with tap water. Better add another gallon of 20W50 bogwash to the bill, too...

Eugene

Getting head

My Bedford CF transporter was running sick. The old 2.3 was way down on power, usually sounded like it was running on three at best, and would backfire like a vegetarian full of Guinness. When I tried to adjust the tappets, I found that there wasn't enough adjustment left to put enough gap on the exhaust valves. Bugger - looks like I'm not the only one receding. 

I have another two Bedford CFs that aren't going to be seeing the road any time soon, neither of which will miss its cylinder head, so I picked the nearest and relieved it of its head, then took it along to a local engine place. A few days later I got back a lovely clean head with hardened valve seats and reamed guides..

On Sunday, after the Curborough jaunt, I started on the transporter. I drained the oil, removed the filter, then drained the radiator and removed it. You don't need to remove the radiator, but it gives you a bit of extra working space and gave me the opportunity to back-flush it for good measure.

Jeeez, the guy who painted this didn't believe in wasting any masking tape... Mind you, he did succeed in making a spray paint job look like the worst kind of brush-job. Not even a brush so much as a chewed twig. Anyway, once the radiator's out the way, access is pretty good.

After everything's disconnected, you just remove the cambelt and rocker cover, then the cam carrier lifts off wholesale... and if you're lucky, the followers stay on top of the valve stems and don't drop into the gravel.

Then you have to remove the exhaust manifold to get at the outer row of head bolts, but this was surprisingly easy. Then 10 head bolts let you take the head off complete with intake manifold. With the head on the bench the problem became pretty clear.

Not only were the valve seats receding, number 4 exhaust valve was missing a big chunk. Yeah, it really doesn't think much to this unleaded petrol lark. So, before opening the nice, new Payen head set, I thought I'd just check the new head lined up nicely on the block. Hmmm, it really wasn't keen. So with both heads on the bench I got the caliper and drill bits. Right, on the "new" head, the holes for the locating dowels were a tight fit on a 9.5mm drill bit, whereas on the bust head you could wiggle a 10mm drill bit in there. Maybe the dowel holes need drilling out? I wasn't going to risk my expensively-reconditioned head to me with a hand-held drill, so I popped over to James's where there's a massive drilling machine and somebody who knows how to use it.

This photo looks very cool and industrial, but doesn't convey the fact that it took at least an hour to get the head level and clamped to the bench before the drilling could commence. It took over an hour of build-up for about 90 seconds of drilling. We didn't draw any sexual comparisons there at all, of course.

The following evening, I went back to the unit with my freshly drilled head. First I took the intake manifold off the busted head, which would be very easy if it weren't for the thermostat housing which, naturally, is cheap, nasty alloy and the bolts corrode into it. I had to persuade the manifold with a blowtorch before it'd release one of the bolts.

You have to take the thermostat out of the way because, believe it or not, one of the bolts for the intake manifold lives behind it.

Yes, a steel bolt lives inside the water gallery, sealed by nothing more than a copper washer. Anyway, with the intake manifold to one side, I went to trial-fit the "new" head. Still it won't seat. Bugger. Back on the bench I looked at both heads side by side.... just a f**king minute. Out with the caliper. Yep, the dowel holes aren't in the same positions on both heads. They're only out by about 5mm, but the "new" head ain't going on the old dowels. Could I just forget the dowels? No, as it happens, because some of the water jacket steam holes don't line up either! Out with the caliper again, and off to check the engine on CF#2 that I'd relieved of its head. Bore x stroke = ... well bugger me bandy and call me Dorothy, it's a bastard 2.0. The DVLA think it's a 2.3, the guy who sold it to me said it was a 2.3, even the letter L cast into the block says it's a 2.3 (though L could also designate a 2.0, according to the Haynes manual. Thanks, Bedford). So, lesson learned - a 2.0 head doesn't fit on a 2.3 block.

Now what? I suppose I'll just have to see if CF#3 is a 2.3 and rob the head off that. Off I trot to CF#3, and set about removing the head. Now clearly this CF hasn't been buggered about with at all - the 53,000 miles looks to be genuine, no chopped wires, no cable ties, it's all factory. The exhaust manifold still has those bend-over locking tabs on the bolts, which is nice to see but unbending them took the thick end of an hour. Taking the rad out was a revelation - not only was the a truly diarrhoetic dribble of frightening brown sludge from the rad, but also I have never seen hoses or a thermostat housing quite so caked with that white crystalline gubbins.

Anyway, when the head finally came off, I tentatively explored its inner dimensions with the caliper. It was a 2.3, and seemed to be in very good order! I did a triumphant run around the yard,waving my arms about like a footballer's goal celebration and breaking into an impromptu chorus of the Goons' Ying Tong Song. No, I don't know where that came from either.

So I know have three headless engines. It's like Ozzy Osborne's been round. I'll be refitting head #3 this weekend, with a bit of luck. It also means that if anyone needs an expensively-reconditioned unleaded head for a slant-four Vauxhall/Bedford, I have one for sale. If you want the short engine to go with it, you can have it, but you'll have to be quick...

Eugene