Beverly Hillbillies, Part Deux

[m3a1]

In other news, on D Day + 4. right when the Doc and I were on the way out of town, we got about a block from the house where I spied a Go Kart out on the curb for large trash pickup. Rare are the days when Doc is off and we were in 'The Doctor Car' so, I did the next best thing and got on the phone and informed Bill. Bill went and grabbed it. After all....

Really great circuses always have a sideshow.

Today, Bill and I went out and performed a little Go Kart post mortem. As the saying goes, the Go Kart had been run hard and put up wet. If you aren't a horse person, the phrase is simply meant to imply that whatever the thing is, it had been thoroughly abused and had received no care in turn. The rear tires had been run low on air (or with none at all) until the tires simply came apart. leaving some minor dents in the rims.

So, it HAD been running....a very good sign. The side-by-side seats were total junk with their subframe completely rotted away. No matter, they were kid-sized anyway. We removed them and stuffed them in the trash bin. Wires for auxiliary lights had been cut back (as there were no lights left to power) and the fuel tank was filled with exactly what you would expect (water + fuel + rust) and the drive chain was desperate for an oil bath.

I removed the tank and the fuel line both of which were filled with rusty liquid throughout. I was guessing that the carb would be no better...BUT if they ran it until the tires came apart, perhaps they hadn't run it since...ergo, the carb might have been spared.

This particular machine is a Dongfang Lingyun and it was pretty nice when it was built. It had electric start, hydraulic disc brakes, independent suspension up front, adjustable shocks all around and a Chonda motor, which is slang in these parts for Chinese Honda. Pretty much a Chinese copy of the same motor to be found on any Honda MiniTrail or similarly sized Honda product. All of which was spectacularly better than the go karts of my youth which were simply horrid in every respect. I wanted to bar the engine over so we attempted to shift it into drive or reverse and found the actuating arm to be completely loose on the shaft going into the transmission.

Well, THAT's Interesting!

They certainly weren't getting much use out of the thing with that just flopping around. So, we put it back the way it should have been (or close to it) and with the kart up on blocks and the engine now in gear, we proceeded to turn the engine over. The rusty chain wasn't happy about it but it did turn over and the exhaust phfoot-pfooted away quite nicely. It was certainly making compression. I've heard that noise a thousand times. Then, a surprise of surprises. I found that the battery was fully charged so naturally we gave the starter a go and that was a no-go but I deduced we had a viable charging system. The starter switch was obviously a total mess so, we bypassed it and the engine turned over VERY nicely. Ho HO! NOW we are getting somewhere!

We wrapped it up. It was hot...again. But we wrapped it up having a VERY good feeling about it. So much so that we unbolted the wonky and very unsightly ROPS and set that aside. We wouldn't be needing it. There is no way we were ever going to use this Kart in a manner that presented even the most remote risk of rollover. Our next effort will be checking for spark and if that's happening, I'll dive into the carbonator and then we'll see what's what.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

D Day + 6.

I got up early out of necessity. Something about avoiding the heat of the day, according to Sir Billiam. My alarm went off at 8AM on the dot. Good Gawd! If I'm ever put in charge, one of the first things I'm going to do is move 'Morning' to a far more sensible hour. 8AM is just not civilized. Bill came over and was all chipper, probably with the idea that it would help to me get motivated. After today, BIll will tell you, being 'all chipper' doesn't work on me. Nope.

Just have the St. Pauli Girl deliver two large, hot mugs of coffee to me. I promise I'll treat her with the utmost respect. I haven't the energy for anything else...

Speaking of treating things with respect, Dirty Gertie would be slapping that ol' M37 around today.....that is, IF the caffeine ever took effect and I managed to get on my feet. But first, Bill had to coax me from my chair and away from my coffee at the kitchen table and get me outside. Ugh!

"It's a beautiful day and the temperature is still low", said Bill with saccharin sweetness.
(apparently 80 degrees qualifies as Still Low in Texas)
"What IS that awful smell", I queried.
"That lovely odor is 8 AM", he replied.

"Eaewwwww!"

But, I went about the very necessary business of loading up the Goat and doing my walk around. It would be a good idea to stop for fuel. Getting fuel for the Gama Goat at any gas station is always a fun and interesting experience. Just imagine being a cute puppy, romping around in the front window of a pet store. Absolutely EVERYONE stops to have a look. With the tank topped off and the additives added, we dashed over to Frank's place to put in the final effort to get the M37 extricated from the graveyard.

Frank, who was usually absent while we worked, surprised everyone. He came out in a flash and arrived just as we were tugging the M37 sideways to initiate the break-free process by taking full advantage of the loosened wheel bearings by placing some lateral loads on the truck. This would have the effect of putting the hubs and drums out of line with the spindle, brakes, brake backing plate and whatever else had managed to get inside those drums over the years. Mo wobble = mo bettah.

With the wheels now noticeably wonky I brought the Goat around behind the M37 and we hooked up and pulled. The left rear wheel began rolling immediately. HA! Proof of concept, screamed my brain but, pull after pull yielded no joy for the left front. The tire wasn't getting enough purchase on the ground to compel it to break free. It just slithered along in the dirt. I climbed down and loosened the spindle nut two more turns and put the locking ring and jam nut back on. More wobble, please! Two more tugs and still no joy! I climbed out of the Goat, walked back and looked at Frank.

"Frank, I think it might have been General Patton who said that when you're thinking you're just about whipped, the enemy is thinking exactly the same thing and then, it all comes down to who gives up first", I quoted (probably erroneously).
Frank replied, "The way you win a prize fight is to go one more round."

We were on the same page but this was the moment for some quiet reflection. We all gathered around the defiant wheel and stared at it. Suddenly, I blinked and shook my head in order to drop some ripe fruit from the Best Idea EVER Tree.

"I think I'm having an apostrophe", I quipped.
"You mean you're having an epiphany", asked Bill, "or are you having a stroke? Should I call you an ambulance?"
"Don't be ridiculous", I said, "I'm not an ambulance. I need a chain!"
"I'll get one", said Frank who, I am guessing, was probably beginning to wonder how and why he allowed the Marx brothers onto his property.

I think he understood what I was up to and, quick as a bunny, Frank returned with a chain. We anchored one end of the chain to Bill's truck, set its parking brake and chocked the wheels. I hooked the other end of the chain to the bottom-most hand-hole of the big Budd wheel. Bill was looking mighty nervous because he knew only too well the pulling power of the Gama Goat. To his credit, he did not protest. I hopped in the Goat and with two temperate tugs we achieved...absolutely nothing.

Grrrrr.

"I need another chain, Frank."

Frank had me follow him. The next chain he selected was a bit longer than the first...without my giving him specifics. Per-fect-o! Without a spoken word between us about the plan of attack, he and I were definitely on the same page. It was very cool to have Frank on the job.

I hauled the chain over to the M37 and hooked one end to the top hand hole of the Budd rim and the other end to the Goat. The extra length was perfect because it had to be altogether longer than the M37. With this arrangement of chains, when I pulled with the Goat, the bottom chain would serve as an anchor and the top chain would pull the top hand hole of the wheel over to a point where both anchor and puller chains should end up opposing another right at the equator of the wheel. It was the mechanical advantage we needed to break this thing free.

And we all know what Archimedes said about mechanical advantage... IT'S DA BOMB!

Now the thing about rust welds and dirt is, they are strong if left undisturbed and are allowed to continue to work together but they are fragile if you can manage to change the rules of their game and split them up. After hooking it up, I stood back and stared at the arrangement. Being very pleased with myself, I looked over at Frank and grinned. Frank, the mechanical engineer and certified Man-Of-Few-Words, grinned back. Here we all were. Just some fellas standing in a field with no where to go and nuthin' to do.

Build it and they will come. Hook it up correctly and it will go. So, I fired up Gertie and gave another temperate tug, After all, Bill liked his truck's back bumper right where it was.

"It moved", Bill yelled excitedly over the sound of the noisy Detroit Diesel.
"Gonna give her another tug", I yelled back over my shoulder.

And it moved again. Yippee! We reset the hooks and repeated the process which provided about 180 degrees of rotation. More than enough. 3 out of four wheels were turning! The flat tire just sat there like a slug, daring us to do anything about it because, there was absolutely nothing we could do about it. Flat is FLAT.

I told Frank I wanted to get this whole darned mess out of the field and up where it could be loaded (more rain was going to be on the way in a few days) and Frank told me to put it where-ever I thought was best. So we did.... and all the way out of the field I kept looking in the rear view mirrors, just to see those stupid old wheels going around and around and around. Bill rode the M37, straddling the driver's door and looking a bit like Julius Caesar, riding a chariot through Rome in a Great Triumph. Victory is sweet.... And how does one eat an elephant?

One bite at a time, my friends. One bite at a time.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

So, why all the fuss & bother? Why all the toil and strife?

Well, as I said earlier, a part of this is the journey...not the destination. These are (sometimes) fun experiences. One learns a lot and in this day of airbags and childproof caps on bottles when one is still able to test how resilient and resourceful they are when faced with adversity.

Test yourself occasionally and when the zombie apocalypse happens, things won't seem quite as bad.

But beyond all that, there would be another bonus. I became the recipient of a 1949 Ford Custom 2-door coupe, outwardly in even worse condition than the M37, BUT...it has a complete Ford flathead V8 with transmission (and overdrive). Yes, it is as sunk as the old M37, but on higher ground and the body; totally wasted...which actually simplifies things somewhat because there's nothing there to save. With the death wheel and the reciprocating saw, the body should only be a small impediment to progress. Somebody already began the delete process because the thing had been turned into a pickup truck by removing half the roof and the most of everything between the high points of the rear fenders.

Wheels and tires? Not a problem...because it doesn't even have hubs, much less wheels and tires. Talk about a LOW rider. Getting to it? Well, that's another thing altogether; one that will involve chain saws and sheaves and cables and moving heavy objects. When it was parked, this was open ground. Now, it's what you'd call... 'woodsy'. I have no illusions about what I'm going to be facing with this. It's going to be a bugger...and a lot of fun.

Today, Frank and I discussed a plan of attack when it came to the matter of tree cutting. He owns the property so he calls the shots. Big cedars will be cut off at the trunk and skidded off whole to another part of the property. Happily, the chief impediments to progress are, for the most part, just saplings that are no bigger than 6" in diameter.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

There was another bonus. I am the proud new owner of a (1946? 47? 48?) Ford Super DeLuxe sedan...also with a flathead Ford V8. This engine is supposed to have a cracked block. Boo Hoo. But, when someone offers you a 1940's Ford, you say HELL YES!.


Frank is also going to give me a flathead Ford V8 short block which has been garage kept and was probably meant to be the replacement for the cracked block. So between the three, hopefully I will come up with at least two rebuildable engines and maybe a third to be cleaned up and painted just to look pretty.

Here we go again!

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

Went out to Frank's today and cleaned up in the areas around the cars. There is some chainsaw work ahead and before today, there was plenty to trip over. Safety first.

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While I made great strides in tidying up the place, raking is boring so I put the yard tools down and I broke into the sedan which appeared to be locked up tight. As it turned out, it was actually unlocked and just rusted up tight. I got creative and opened the trunk, ran a variety of pipes through the rear seat springs and managed to roll a window down.

Now able to reach inside, the combined leverage of the inner and outer handles, along with my leaning against the door to unload the latch worked its magic. The interior is an utter disaster. With a generous amount of PB Blaster and working the handles, I got things working fairly well but, just in case, I undid the catches on both vent windows and lubed up the pivot points before closing the car up again.

Then I moved on to the '49 Custom and kind of cleaned out the back (it was transformed into a ute many years ago) and shoveled the accumulated junk out. There was some very nice compost in there....and that's all I'm going to say about that.

The '49 is going to be an interesting move as it is sitting wholly on its frame rails...no drums or hubs and perhaps not even a rear end (not that it matters). The goal is to recover the engine and transmission and radiator.

Whatever has burrowed beneath it this car in for a big surprise in a few days. I will probably also making an effort to bisect and remove everything that is left of the body, aft of the B-pillar. That shouldn't be a terrible job since all the body bolts are exposed. With the death wheel, and the reciprocating saw, the sheetmetal and the bolts will go quickly, leaving us with a bare chassis in the back and plenty of places to pull from.

I will remove the radiator as a precaution (it appears to be in very nice shape) and leave the rest of the sheetmetal around the engine in place to serve as ad hoc protection just in case we have to get rough with it but it too will eventually have to go. Unfortunately, there just isn't a lot of call for '49 Ford front clips or I might make an effort to save it. How very sad.

Tomorrow is tree cutting day as we prep the area around each car to prepare for extraction and then cut back some trees that are in the way along Frank's lane; ones that vexing his eventual first drive of his pappy's surplus WC54 in many, many years, and our nearest route out of the trees with the '49.

I've had some trouble posting pics which turned out to be the result of some APPLE updates to my phone which caused any photos I took to be, well, not what they had been in the past. Thank you Apple, for changing up my settings without asking me. Idiots! As a result, the photos I took of the M37 move were not convertible for use here....which is to say, not convertible by a person of my skill level. Terribly sorry about that.

However, changes have been made to the settings and I think we are back in the saddle again.

Here's the '49 Custom ConvUTEable....or what's left of it. Enjoy.

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Yeah, she's cherry.

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Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

Today, I had Bill and Beau at my side. We cut down three trees and moved them into piles and then set upon the arduous task of excavating around the front of the sedan so as to be able to determine the perimeter of the tree growing up through the bumper and to be able to free up the front wheels which were buried up to the hubs.

I must have done something right in cutting the tree off, considering there were no sparks. It was not an easy task. I had to make a few plunge cuts which I don't like doing but, with a light touch and plenty of stops to rest, I actually got through all of it while my crew observed and made helpful suggestions. Eventually I felt that we had gotten through 99% of it and so, we set up the rock jack and lifted. A slight woody creak as the few remaining tendrils of wood stretched and separated from one another and....

SUCCESS!

We used a few bits of discarded metal as a means of keeping the gap open and removed the jack. With that, the chapter of the tree in the bumper which anchored the car to the ground comes to an end.

For those of you who are curious about what engines are being harvested from these cars, I'll be pulling a 59AB from the sedan and an 8BA from the '49.

Here are a couple of photos of the sedan being set free and oh by the way, you're looking at the beginning of my Halloween decoration for 2021.

Enjoy.

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Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

That sedan body appears to be in pretty solid condition.

[Mark]

The one car looks like this '49 Ford or 49 Plymouth?

[m3a1]

The ute is a '49 Ford with the 8BA flathead. The sedan could be a 46, 47, or 48. With so much to do, I haven't taken the time to look at the data tag on the firewall. It will yield a 59AB flathead.

I'm not a big fan of Fords but I really dig the flatheads. They're the archetypical street rodder's motor and when providence deposits three right in your lap, well....you do what ya gotta do.

[m3a1]

When it comes to recoveries, here are some of the things I think should be mentioned.

First - Over time, invest in some recovery equipment. I get almost everything at flea markets, yard sales and rummage places and I almost never pay retail. Yet there are necessarily some things where you should pay retail. Spend less on one end so you can spend more on the other. You do that over time, you'll be able to look for the very best deals and you'll soon find that you have some pretty good kit when the day comes that providence smiles on you. I have mountains of the stuff and I'm always on the prowl for more.

Second - Have friends who think like you or who at least understand how you value things. If you're hot on the trail of recovering a M151 that was found in a sorry state and requires an all-hands-on-deck recovery you shouldn't be the only one who understands its value. Friends who don't know or appreciate that the effort to recover something is worthwhile aren't going to show up ready to rock on game day with their work gloves in their back pocket and a sweat rag around their neck. In fact, they might not show up at all.

Third - Take some of the money you saved (by having friends who are willing to help out) and pay it back. Reinvest! Reward your crew for helping out and you absolutely must feed them on game day. Fast food or the like is just fine BUT, the rule should be, no one works while eating. It's a rest and relaxation period where genius ideas often suddenly pop up. After all, these events should be, first and foremost, social occasions. Yes, you're the one bringing home a prize but it's the DOING of it that counts. It's the journey, not the destination. The STORY is what matters because 10, 20, 30 years later (God willing) someone will ask if anyone remembers that time when.... That's a gift that keeps on giving, friends. My standard reward to my help (post recovery) is a steak dinner. It can be at home, or at a restaurant but steak seals the deal and believe me, your friends and helpers won't want to see you going on a recovery without them.

Fourth - Set reasonable goals for the work and know when to stop. When I was younger, I could and would work all day and I usually worked until I dropped. No goals, just work-work-work until the work was done. It was not fun. The black sedan you've seen in the photos above was last on the road in 1961! That's SIXTY years. So, if I don't get something done on one particular day, it'll be there waiting for me when I get back to it. Reasonable goals may be as simple as, let's get that tree growing through the bumper cut off at the base. That's one goal. Anything else that gets accomplished is a bonus and leaves everyone feeling really good about the work. If for some reason a goal isn't attained...no worries. Hakuna mataco. Again, the work will be there when you come back (and happily, already partially done). If something throws a wrench into the works that prevents you from reaching a goal (like Mother Nature trying to turn you into Lobster Thermador) call it a day. Your fault, someone else's fault, ANYONE's fault...doesn't matter....call it a day. This is supposed to be fun, after all. You can come back another day, bigger, better, stronger.

Fifth - When one car (or truck) seems enough to get you and your crew to the work site, go in TWO. In this way, if someone needs to go somewhere, the remaining crew has transportation (which is important, in case of accident) or just a place to sit down and grab some relief from the heat, cold, rain, etc.

Tomorrow's goal is to get the sedan jacked up and on blocks. That should be fun.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

Today began with a false start. Sir Billiam's Dodge Ram pickup bit the dust, which is to say that his long-standing troubles with his ignition switch finally came to a screeching halt. The darned thing initially presented itself in a rather curious way. Once started, certain parts of the truck refused to work, such as the A/C or the wiper blades or the fan motor...just a lot of irritating little things that are really not absolutely necessary but, nice to have working when you want 'em to. Today, NOTHING worked. It was dead. Compounding the problem, the superfragilistic key fob. FOB is an acronym for - Effed Over, Buddy...

As in - you've been effed over, buddy!

One big entry in the 'Plus Column' was that it was in his driveway when it crapped out. Dodge dealership's estimate for repairs? Just over $1000 parts and labor. Luckily, one of the old hands slyly told Bill to call a locksmith. Now that his fat was in the fire, Bill did just that. Fifteen minutes for the locksmith to R&R the switch in his driveway and a new superfragilistic key fob programmed with a special, superDUPERfragilistic key fob programmer. $650 parts and labor. The locksmith laid out the truth of it. If you take your vehicle to the dealership, they call me and I do the same thing I just did here, but I do it THERE and they don't even have a key programmer. The dealership pockets $400 of pure profit for making a phone call. What a racket.

I'll tell you one thing. I'm never gonna buy a modern Dodge. Nope.

So, this delay had us out at the site right around noon. All the tree-cutting nonsense from yesterday was done, at least in the immediate area.

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As I pointed out in the last post, the Ford was STILL there, waiting patiently, whether we were on time, or late.

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We jacked up the front of the car but my side of the car wasn't elevating as well as Bill's side. Why? Roots! BIG roots...THROUGH THE WHEEL!!

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Bill, now $650 lighter in the wallet, was in the mood to dig some shallow graves... Saying something about Those People at the Dodge dealership, which I will pretend I didn't hear but, I will add that he didn't say "Those People." So I put him to work excavating the left front wheel while I excavated the right front (and cut roots). Off came the old wheels and once they were loaded up, we skedaddled.

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We took a break and visited one of our community's honored metzgerei; a place called Klein's. Klein's hold themselves out to be primarily a deer processing facility but there's a secret inside. They make traditional BBQ (brisket, sausage, turkey...with all the fixin's. Their cole slaw is something to write home about, by the way. Helping to keep their secrets a secret, is the fact that everything is take-out and there is no drive-up window. Put on your big-boy pants and walk inside and get yer grub...like a man. Patrons come and go with little notice and the parking lot is never full because there is no parking lot. Park in the marked spaces along the side of the building like everyone else does and be quick about it.

I bought us our lunch and we headed over to the house and took our break in the Doc's new gazebo in front of a nice, breezy fan. We sat in Doc's new chairs at her new table. Alas, we were so filthy from grubbing around in the dirt we had to take up the Doc's new seat pads and set them aside. We sat and ate like dirty little kids with the table top almost up to our chins. Annoying? YES. Ridiculous? NO DOUBT ABOUT IT, but, no matter.... the BBQ was oh-so-good!

Once we were done and having restored Doc's gazebo to order, we quickly pilfered two wheels and tires off my roller jeep and went back to work. They are junk radials with tubes and nearly twice as wide as the original tires so, lower ground pressure makes for easier sliding.

After a bit more jacking we not only got the replacement wheels and tires on but we also packed the ground beneath them with flat rocks and dirt. They (the wheels) didn't go around, of course. Nothing with wheels at Frank's place actually roll. It's some kind of weird rule, or ancient curse left behind by the indigenous peoples, or something like that. But the replacement wheels/tires DO hold air and they are ON TOP of the ground.... for a change so, we are making headway. Another small victory!

I am not dragging the car out on the old wheels as they are very toasty and will undoubtedly disintegrate under the stress. The basic idea behind this particular car is to allow it to become a sort of time capsule and that means preserving the wheels (and the foliage) as they are.

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Cheers,
TJ

[Mark]

I just remembered an incident from high school days--- driving a 49 Ford? was to drive over a bridge over a river 35--45mph?This was an old railroad bridge we hit the side of the bridge rather than another vehicle.It put a little dent in car, knocked hole in radiator but we drove it home, keeping eye on temp.I wish I could remember more, 50 years ago memory is sketchy.

[rickf]

The memory loss just may have something to do with the case of Boones Farm in the trunk? Or more than likely the HALF a case that was left in the trunk at the time of impact.

Or were you more of a Ripple guy?

This is going to test the ages of our readers.

[m3a1]

I just remembered an incident from high school days--- driving a 49 Ford? was to drive over a bridge over a river 35--45mph?This was an old railroad bridge we hit the side of the bridge rather than another vehicle.It put a little dent in car, knocked hole in radiator but we drove it home, keeping eye on temp.I wish I could remember more, 50 years ago memory is sketchy.

I'd say Mark's memory is REALLY sketchy. If he knocked a hole in the radiator on a '49 that was no LITTLE dent! In the 49 Ford, the radiator is located wayyyy back away from everything...except the fan...and if he knocked it into the fan.... Well, you be the judge.

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Sorry Mark, but we're going to have to throw you under the bus on this one.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

Today, we aimed small and agreed we'd settle on getting the back wheels up out of the ground and replaced with my roller's wheels. We also agreed to shoot for the extra 10% by cutting the '49's radiator hoses and recover the radiator which I had already unbolted. We began with the rock jacks on the rear bumper and in short order had the floor jack stuffed under the car at strategic locations. With just a little bit of shoveling (to make room for the newer, far wider tires) we quickly had that done. Then we shoveled as much dirt back into the holes beneath them as we could fit before letting the car off the jack.

It was getting hot and this half of the day seemed to be without any air in motion. Time for a break and to recover the bits of chrome that seemed to be just dying to come off that old car. They got rounded up and put in the back seat of Bill's truck. Some pieces seemed notably absent.

I should mention that the circumstances beneath the car were not quite as bad as I expected them to be. There were a lot of leaves; very dry and grey and feathery...not packed down at all and certainly not black and rotting. What THAT meant was that the moisture content beneath the car was (generally) very low. Yes, the floorboards in this car are awful, but the frame still looked pretty substantial, which is certainly a bonus.

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Frank sauntered over looking like he had been outside for some time and he announced that on this day his WC54 was again running and moving under it's own power! Well, I'll be darned! According to Frank, the last time it ran was something like sixty or seventy years ago! We'll celebrate that properly at some point in the future. Bill and I put down the tools and accompanied Frank back to his project area to see just what all the hubbub was about. The engine ran very sweetly.

Frank is in need of a 'combat rim' for his truck. Chiefly, he needs only the bolt-on flange. If you have such an animal, he's in the market for one and he would probably be willing to spring for a complete rim. Please let me know.

Bill and I returned to the '49 and grabbed the radiator and drove back over to my place to pick up the Gama Goat.

PLUS 10% ACHIEVEMENT BADGE, AWARDED!

Things were going along so well we decided to go for the bonus round and tug the old sedan out into the daylight.

Once we returned we laid out some cable for the pull just to see where everything would need to be. Then we hooked up the sheave to the hitch of an old dozer which was now a gigantic monument to large, seemingly immovable hunks of steel. It seemed appropriate. Then we brought in Dirty Gertie and pulled the old sedan out of her grave. Following that were a series of resets and pulls with the Goat to maneuver the old Ford around everything since its wheels were still not rolling. It skidded along very nicely, though.


Bill contemplates being the first driver of the this car since 1961.....and having to sit on that terrible front seat.
I really dig that oval rear window!

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We raked through the leaves and the loose dirt in an effort to recover several key pieces of chrome that had gone missing over the years and that was worth the effort. We found several. Not bad. Not bad at all. Finally, we again hooked the Goat up to the old girl and dragged her all the way over to a place of honor alongside the M37.

Discussing the frozen drum situation with Frank, I postulated that a junk rim with a long bar attached might be just the thing to break those drums free. Hey, guys...don't expect too much from me. My brain is pretty fried from several weeks of this nonsense and at this point, brute force is starting to become my default setting. I'm making this stuff up as I go along! Unlike the M37 whose wheels are generally out in the open, the sedan also presents special difficulties with those cartoon balloon fenders. Why? Because nothing can be easy.

Frank and I took a walk through his woods and I came up with a very wide, very dented rim that would be a perfect candidate for just such an endeavor. Why did I not pull the same trickery with the wheel bearings? Chiefly, the rear axle and... five words - Mid To Late Forties Ford. A design that was made to make grown men cry like little girls.

But, for now, we are much farther ahead than we planned to be and that's a good thing. Tomorrow, a day of rest. Thank GOD!

Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

Get it running and dump the clutch! She will break loose.