Further Adventures in Car Repair - Update

So, once upon a time (just a few short years ago), I had the transmission on my truck professionally rebuilt by a reputable shop. Everything worked fine right up until I had to park it a while back to take care of a pair of recalcitrant fuel pumps and assorted other maintenance tasks that needed doing. As such, this is not a post in which I will be bagging on the transmission shop. Their workmanship is not in question here. 

Having said that, never assume that a shop did their work correctly. They offer warranties for a reason. As Reagan said, "Trust, but verify."

As mentioned in a previous post, the most recent test drive efforts revealed the transmission pan was leaking automatic transmission fluid (ATF - the stuff that looks like cherry koolaid when it's new and day old coffee when it's neglected) like a medicated St. Bernard. Now, there is no good reason for a freshly and professionally rebuilt transmission to be leaking after less than 10,000 miles of driving. Unfortunately, it has taken far longer than I would have liked to find time to go tracking down the source of the leak. 

The first thing you need to do when investigating an automotive problem is to try an figure out the source and/or cause of said problem. Examination of the transmission filler tube/dipstick holder showed no visible evidence of cracks or leaks. Ditto for the transmission cooler lines. That's a plus. Looking at what was sitting directly above the large pool of what used to be ATF on the driveway pointed me squarely at the transmission pan. The pan on my truck is held on by 14 bolts which sandwiches a gasket between the pan and body of the transmission. The bolts are supposed to be torqued to 168 inch pounds (roughly 14 foot pounds). The pan and bolts were suspiciously coated in ATF. 

So, having localized the source to the pan and knowing the torque specs for the bolts, I finally got a chance to crawl under the truck earlier today with torque wrench in hand and discovered, much to my dismay, that all 14 bolts were not only not torqued to spec but barely finger tight. I am exceedingly thankful that all 14 bolts were still attached to the transmission. 

After giving each bolt a proper torqueing and wiping down the pan and bolts of excess ATF, I set about trying to refill the lost ATF into the transmission. Only to discover that I did not have enough ATF on hand to completely refill the transmission. The good news is  that  no further ATF was seen escaping the pan and its bolts.  So, I think that leak in the dike was plugged. 

Grumbles and cursings at the inevitable delays and a trip to the auto parts store later, I now have enough (hopefully) ATF on hand to finish replenishing. 

But wait, there's more. While doing the ATF refill kabuki dance, I discovered that the transmission cooler lines were drooling a little ATF at the fittings to the radiator (which also acts as a transmission cooler). OH COME ON ALREADY!!! 

If it ain't one thing, it's another. 

So, assuming the weather cooperates, my morning tomorrow will involve tightening transmission cooler lines, refilling ATF and hopefully dropping the truck at the muffler shop. Wish me luck and no more surprises. 

Further Adventures in Auto Repair

Free time has been at a premium since we last checked in with Daddy Hawk. Even with the COVID-19 stay in place orders (which are slowly being relaxed here in North Texas), there is always something that  needs doing and many projects in the queue that need attention not the least of which is overdue repairs on both vehicles. 

The Queen's chariot is long overdue for a new driver's seat cover which has been worn through over the years by too many butts sliding across it. One was ordered and has arrived awaiting my time and attention. It's not an easy fix, but it is doable with a minimum of cursing and blood. Pro tip: if you have leather seats, sit into them as opposed to sliding into them if at all possible. I will try to document the process of replacing the seat cover here if I remember to take pictures. 

The Queen's chariot is also in need of a new power steering cooler as the existing one (which Ford conveniently included as one part with the A/C condenser) took a shot from an unknown object (or just let go over time) and is drooling power steering fluid like a St. Bernard with a mouthful of Novacaine. Having done the radiator a while back, I know what I'm in for which is why that can has been kicked down the road a time or two. It's a full day of disassembling the front end, draining fluids, cursing, threatening, begging, praying and generally trying to avoid insanity. The shop quoted $385 in labor to do it for me.  So, I'll be sucking it up and getting my hands dirty with that one soonish.

The Queen's chariot is not done with me yet. While I'm throwing wrenches at the power steering cooler / AC condenser, I have to go chasing a radiator fluid leak. I'm hoping it's just a loose clamp. I can't see any evidence that there is a more serious problem, but one never knows when you are talking about a motor with over 260,000 miles on it. Never let it be said I don't get my money's worth out of my vehicles.  

That leaves the project F150. I just replaced the radiator which had a hairline crack and was at least partially responsible for my coolant leak and overheating issues there. I suspect it has a leaking head gasket and will be testing that soon. It also sprouted a transmission fluid leak which I suspect is coming from an overtightened pan gasket. I just need a dry afternoon to get under there with a torque wrench and verify that. I have a replacement gasket for it if necessary. While I was crawling around under it a couple of weeks ago, I also noticed this:

I'm 85% sure that wasn't like that when I put the bed back on after replacing fuel pumps, but I'm also 100% sure it was hanging by a thread because it's always had a more or less straight pipe sound. I've  got a quote from the local muffler shop that I like which will be done after it's road tested. 

Way down the list for this truck is a rebuilt engine. I'm going to stick with the stock 302/5.0L block, but I'm hoping to tweak a little more horsepower and torque out of it in the process. Discussions will need to be had with my cousin the mechanic before deciding which way to go. I'd really like to ditch the automatic transmission and swap in a 5 speed manual, but that's just crazy talk....which means I'm seriously researching how to make it happen. 

This, of course, means I need to invest in more tools. What a shame. 

Further Adventures in Car Repair

There is a running joke in car repair shops that you can have 2 out of the following 3 types of repairs: cheap repairs, good repairs or fast repairs. I've also seen it written as cheap and fast equals not good. Good and fast equals not cheap. Cheap and good equals not fast. One last quote from the original Mad max movie: "Like the sign says: Speed is just a question of how much money you want to spend."

Today, it meant deciding to rip out $250 worth of new parts that I might not be able to sell or get refunded and spending $375 on different parts to avoid spending over $500 on another other set of new parts.

Confused?

Yeah. Me too.

It all started with the air spring suspension on The Queen's Chariot deciding 250,000 miles was quite far enough thank you very much about a month or two ago. The air spring suspension in the Lincoln Navigator is a marvel of modern engineering, and it's also bloody expensive. The system has several key components which all must work in concert to keep the ride smooth and comfy. The heart of the system is an air compressor mounted below the passenger side headlight. That compressor pumps air through a surprisingly small plastic hose to the rear air spring solenoids (one on each side) when the ride height sensors (again, one on each side) tells the vehicle body module computer that something is amiss. If any one of those items takes a dirt nap, your paid for Lincoln Navigator / Ford Expedition is suddenly a low rider which bounces at the slightest provocation.

So, a couple of months ago after a minor blood letting to replace the radiator in The Chariot, The Queen is following me in another vehicle and says: "Did you know my car is leaning heavily to the left?"

Um...no. I did not.

Over the next several days and weeks, The Chariot's suspension issues had steadily gotten worse to the point that the entire rear end would squat when the ignition was turned off. So, I turned my Google Fu on, and I came to the conclusion that the rear air springs had finally given up the ghost and were no longer capable of hold air.

For those who have no experience with air ride suspensions, the air springs are basically thick rubber air bags (think of it as a thick rubber sleeve/cushion that is mounted around a strut) which may or may not be surrounded by a metal case which connect up to an air line and solenoid. Air comes into  the bag, inflates and magic happens resulting good feelings.

Well, you've all seen what happens to a tire after it's been out in the weather for several years. The rubber starts to dry out, and little cracks start to appear. Eventually, air starts to leak out before finally not being able to hold any air at all. All the while, your air compressor that feeds the bags is working harder and longer to supply air, and the solenoids are getting clogged with water, rust and particulates from the air that's compressed but not filtered into lines.

So, roughly $250 and a week or so waiting on shipping later, I had me a set of replacement air springs. Several YouTube tutorials later (unfortunately, not including the one that shows you close up how to do several key steps which I just found today). and I gamely made my first attempt at replacing said air springs.

It took most of a Sunday and a little bit of heat exhaustion, but I got the old ones out and the new ones in. I turned on the system expecting great things to take place (or at least inflation of two air springs).

What happened? Not a thing. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Bupkiss.

Running short on time, The Queen prevailed upon me to take The Chariot to a local mechanic we recently became acquainted with for the purpose of diagnosing the problem. $100 later, said mechanic assured me that the air compressor and solenoids were working, and the air springs must be defective.

Okay. Fine. Not what I wanted to hear, but what are you going to do? So, I reached out to the manufacturer; and, in short order, I had a new set of air springs on the way (ground shipping sucks when you are in a hurry).  Eventually, the replacement replacement air springs arrived and The Chariot went back to the mechanic to install them.

I dropped The Chariot off on a Friday so he could work on it over the weekend and told him to let me know when it was ready. Monday - no call. Tuesday - no call. Wednesday - finally got a call...that he could not fix it and could I come back to the shop and pick it up.

[Insert long string of your favorite colorful expletives here]

I'm not going to complain too much. He didn't charge me anything since he was unsuccessful in fixing it, and he was honest about the fact that he doesn't deal with air spring suspensions enough to know what's wrong. I went and picked up The Chariot, and fired up the Bat Signal for my cousin Vinny (not his real name), the mechanic turned engineer, to come out and take a look. He had me do some diagnostics until he could find time in his schedule which got us no closer to a solution, unfortunately.

He was finally able to make it by the house today, and we got down to business of doing our best to sort out the problem.

Discovery number 1: the rear air spring solenoids were completely plugged up with rust and schmutz and other assorted crap. We made an attempt to locate replacement solenoids, but we struck out. There were no solenoids to be found for The Queen's vehicle in stock anywhere in the greater DFW area for less than $200 (each) [I'm not spending $400 just to try and figure out if they are the only problem].

Discovery number 2: Punching a hole through a clogged air solenoid will allow it to function temporarily long enough to figure out that your skin flint cheap bastard ways were right not to buy $400+ worth of shiny new solenoids because the air bags were still not inflating.

[Insert more expletives of your choice]

Discovery number 3: The only other possible cause of the (continued) problem is that the air compressor is just flat worn out. Guess who is not spending upwards of $200 to get a new compressor to see if he's right? Yep, this guy.

Discovery number 4: There exists, for just such occasions, an air spring to coil over strut conversion kit that eliminates the guess work and produces allegedly similar ride quality. The cheapest kits do not include a gizmo that bypasses all the electronics that annoy the carp out of you with warnings and threats to check the air suspension. The kit I chose includes a bypass module that it supposed to take care of that problem without resorting to reprogramming the computer. It normally costs about $450 to $500 plus tax. I found a deal on Amazon for $375 with tax and shipping included.

Sold.

In hindsight, I probably should have gone with the conversion kit in the first place. The Queen and I had discussed the options and decided to try and fix the existing system. I don't think it was the wrong decision at the time, but it definitely did not turn out to the right choice in the end. Sometimes you just have to admit defeat and go a different direction even if it means losing a little money.

Kinda Cool...Things You Don't See Everyday

The building where my office is located is undergoing renovation (just in time for our company to move offices in September). For the last week or two, they have been working on the roof which has required the use of a crane to lift materials (it's a 19 story building). It's been fascinating to watch (at least to me). So, I thought I would share some pictures.

A view from the parking garage. This is identical to the crane used in Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.

I had no idea that the boom on these things extended that far up...

.... No. THAT far up.

A view from the 16TH floor. Ignore the reflections of the Hershey's chocolates. They are but ghosts of things that no longer exist.



That boom was swaying in the breeze. Watching it move from this perspective is dizzying. It looks like it's going to topple over any minute.

This was the best shot I could get of the top of the boom going over the edge of the roof. I think it's safe to say it was near the limit of it's reach.

Good News and Bad News

First, the good news. I still have NOT received a response from Texas Wesleyan regarding my law school application. Yes, you read that right. Things have to be bad when the GOOD news is that I've received no news about whether or not they think I'm fit to be trained as an attorney.

So, which do you want first? The bad news or the really bad news?

Since it's my blog and you all won't have an opportunity to express your preferences before I hit the "publish post" button, I think I will make you cry then laugh in the hopes of lessening the pain. Stop reading now, skip to the end and start reading from the bottom if you don't want to cry. 

Seriously. You've been warned. 

As you know from previous posts, The Queen's favorite subject, Kiki (aka The Yakmaster 5000 Projectile Vomit Cannon) has been ill of late. So ill that he has been steadily losing weight for several months. The first trip to the vet found nothing dreadfully out of the ordinary aside from slight anemia and slightly elevated white blood cell count, and it was suggested that he be put on probiotics and antibiotics. The probiotics seemed to be helping. He regained his appetite after we figured out his favorite foods were Fancy Feast and honey maple turkey deli meat. Until the last few days. He decided that now was the time to go on a starvation diet. Literally. By Saturday morning, he was wobbly, weak and generally looking pathetic. 

The Queen insisted that I do something about this situation immediately. You see, as I may have mentioned, The Queen has been suffering through some pretty severe health issues for the last several years. When she came down with these problems, we were living in Houston as I had just gotten a really good job there. Without a family support network, it was not possible for me to work and take care of her by myself. She didn't qualify for home health care, etc. So, we made the hard decision to have her move back to our house in the Dallas area (her parents were care taking it for us until we figured out what to do with it). The plan was that I would find a way to get a job back in Dallas...a process that ultimately took two years. Kiki was one of The Queen's major sources of comfort and affection while I was away down in Houston earning a living and generally going insane. 

By now, you can see where this is heading. Remember, I warned you. 

Saturday, as you would expect, our regular vet was closed, and their answering service put me on terminal hold. After an unsuccessful attempt to get Kiki into another vet, I was left with the only option available: The 24 hour emergency vet in Arlington. This is not really a bad thing as I used to live right down the street from there, and they were our regular vet until we moved away. So, they had records on us even if none of the staff remembered us. 

We got Kiki there Saturday evening, and the poking and prodding began. They reran some of the tests the regular vet had done and added a few more. The end result was not good. He had lost about 50% of his body weight in 5 months. He was septic, and the vet felt that was due to gastrointestinal cancer. That left us with two choices: 1) IV antibiotics and nutrition followed by more tests and probably chemo, or 2) put him to sleep.

The vet told us that he had seen a similar case a week or so ago, and the cat had died a day after going on the antibiotics and IV nutrition as the poor thing was just not strong enough to battle back. The vet told us that his recommendation based on the test results and the history we had reported was to put Kiki to sleep. The Queen was understandably heart broken, but she bravely made the decision to have Kiki put to sleep so that he wouldn't have to suffer. The Queen couldn't face holding him while it was done. The vet promised that it would be quick and painless; and, based on prior experience with this clinic, I had no doubt that would be the case. The Queen said her goodbye's to Kiki and he was taken away. They brought him back to us sealed in a box within minutes, and we left to go home. I can't say enough about the level of professionalism and courtesy the vet's office showed to us. If you are in the Dallas area, don't hesitate to use the I-20 Animal Medical Center. They are good people.

The Queen cried her heart out until late into the night when she passed out from shear exhaustion. The next day, of course, was Mother's Day. The Queen's uncle was in town from California, and a lunch was planned at her brother's place. I woke up as early as I could and attempted to bury Kiki in one of his favorite spots next to the driveway in the Monkey Grass. 

Unfortunately, the bedrock at Castle Erickson varies in depth from about 1 foot to 18 inches. Great for your home's foundation. Horrible for when it becomes necessary to take care of some unpleasantness. Short of dynamite, which the neighbors would find objectionable, Kiki was just not going to be able to rest in his favorite spot. Since The Queen's brother has 16 acres of land, we decided to bury Kiki in a wooded area on his property. The Queen placed a cactus flower she had found over his grave.

We had Kiki for about 11 years. He was a rescue from the sister of a friend who was not able to give him and his litter mate the care they needed. His brother had disappeared years ago, and Kiki became The Queen's all time favorite by giving her comfort during some of her darkest days. I was forever frustrated by his finickyness, his fondness for hunting and killing everything within reach, and his penchant for vomiting on everything in sight, but I am grateful for all the love and affection he gave The Queen in exchange for nothing more than a warm bed and a full food bowl.

Then, to add insult to injury so to speak, I managed to create a minor plumbing disaster this afternoon that absolutely ruined my work day. Allow me to back up a few moments. Castle Erickson has been without a weedeater since the beginning of the lawn season. There are two weedeaters on the premises. Neither of which worked. 

One was a Black & Decker Grass Hog electric which chewed up weeds and tall grass better than a lot of gas trimmers until it suddenly stopped working for no apparent reason. The reason, after disassembly, turned out to be the plastic drive cog had melted allowing the belt to come off making the powerful electric motor absolutely useless. Question for Black & Decker: Whose bright idea was it to use a plastic part in an application that would generate tons of heat from friction? Fire that dumbass. Please. Oh, and the person who decreed that you would not sell said plastic piece of garbage separate from the motor assembly which costs 3/4 of what a whole new unit would cost. Yeah, he needs to be fired too.

The other is a Ryobi SS26 gas trimmer. The Ryobi would start all day long, and it would even turn the trimmer head. Right up until you took it off choke. I suspect that it's my fault for not properly winterizing it. I gave it a complete tune up with a new spark plug, cleaning the muffler, cleaning the carb and replacing the fuel lines and filter. Still no go. The internet is overflowing with similar complaints for this model. To those of you who might have come here via a Google search: Yes, I know I should have bought a Stihl or an Echo. If I could afford a Stihl or an Echo, I would have bought one. No, I don't want to hear it. The problem seems to be localized in the carb as it will start with or without the muffler in place ruling out too much back pressure. The fact that it starts rules out spark leaving fuel as the only possible culprit. New fuel and fuel filter point squarely at the carb. I'm going to order a new carb, turn right around and sell it to someone else. Let them screw with it.

Anyway, The Queen decreed that a functioning weedeater must come home or else. So, we stopped at Wal Mart on our way home from taking mom out to dinner for mother's day yesterday and purchased a new Weedeater Featherlite. Again, all you brand fanboys: I DON"T CARE. 

This afternoon, The Queen entered my office and suggested that she might have the energy to do a little weedeating to make the Castle a little more presentable. I put the new tool together and sent her off to get the required gas since, of course, the Weedeater uses a different fuel/oil mixture than the Ryobi does (fortunately, the chainsaw is a match for the Ryobi meaning my mix won't go to waste). She returned. I filled the little tank and promptly flooded the stupid thing. Once I figured out the procedure for starting it flooded, we were off and running....for all of two minutes. Max. The trimmer works fine, but imagine my surprise when a .095 inch trimmer line split open a 3/4 inch Schedule 40 PVC pipe on one of our outdoor faucets. 

Water immediately started gushing a several gallons a minute, and I made a mad dash for the water shut off valves on the opposite corner of the house...which did exactly nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Apparently, they only take care of the water INSIDE the house. After a fruitless 15 minute search for another water shut off valve that, you know, WOULD affect the OUTSIDE water faucets, I threw in the towel and called the city to come out and shut off the water at the meter. They were there in about 15 minutes, and then it was off to Home Depot to get some Schedule 40 PVC, coupling and a new faucet (might as well make it look pretty while I was at it, and the old one leaked). The repair too less than 15 minutes. I waited a few before calling the city, and they were back out in about 20 minutes to get us back on. No major leaks detected although the new faucet has a very minute leak from the threads despite a generous amount of teflon tape.

So, if you don't mind, I'm going to go swill some wine and pretend the last three days never happened.

Adventures in Car Repair

I’ve always had a powerful desire to work with my hands even though I’ve never been properly trained in any particular trade. I love to tinker with things, build things, make things, take things apart…occasionally put them back together properly.

My mother loves to tell a story about when I was 3 years old. I had one of those little red fire engine pedal cars; and, apparently, I was under the impression that it needed to be “repaired”. Frequently. My “repairs” allegedly took the form of the wheels and steering wheel being removed and put back on. This is the point in the story where Mom starts laughing uncontrollably as she tries to tell people of how I would be pedaling madly down the sidewalk only to have all fours wheels fall off simultaneously leaving me holding a steering wheel no longer connected to anything but my very inept hands.

Since then, I have worked on every car I’ve ever owned to one degree or another. Some of my efforts have been more extensive than others. Some of my efforts have been more successful than others.

For the last several days, the latest victim of my mechanical talents has been our 2002 Ford Windstar. The AC compressor on the Windstar chose August in Texas to take an eternal dirt nap. I’ve never attempted an AC repair before; but, after the shop said they wanted $1300 in parts and labor to fix, I figured I should give it a whirl.

After tinkering with cars for most of my life, I’ve noticed a couple of things that others might find amusing.

First, automotive engineers are a sadistic lot. There’s an old joke about the difference between a masochist and a sadist: The masochist says “Hurt me. Hurt me.” While the sadist says “No.” I’m convinced that car company engineers spend millions of dollars and hundreds of man hours thinking up devious and perverse ways to thwart countless masochistic shade tree mechanics such as myself. It’s their way of saying “No”.

Second, I am convinced that the folks who write car repair manuals have never, in fact, seen a car much less attempted to repair one.

For instance, the manual on the Windstar says that you should be able to remove the AC compressor from the engine compartment after removing the four mounting bolts. That might be possible in a pig’s left nostril. Maybe. Not, however, on a Windstar.

The bright eyed sadists at Ford buried the AC compressor on the front left side of the engine. Hiding out below the compressor is a frame rail, a radiator hose and part of the exhaust manifold leaving absolutely not nearly enough room to remove the large, heavy rectangular peg from the much smaller triangular hole. The top side is not much better. To the left is a huge chunk of engine compartment wall. To the right is more radiator plumbing and the battery. Above the compressor, Ford found a great place for the alternator and its mounting bracket creating another peg/hole combination from Hell.

Now, I’m enough of an arm chair engineer to grudgingly admit that you have to make compromises which sometimes sacrifice ease of repair. That, however, does not relieve repair manual writers from their obligation to accurately report the steps necessary to successfully undertake a particular procedure. Is it too much ask the manual companies to have some junior grade tech writer actually present when the repair is done? I mean, you might actually pick up little time saving hints like you need to remove the alternator and its mounting bracket to get the compressor out of its little hiding spot.

I spent the better part of several hours alone in the workshop trying to noodle that one out. The rats living in the shop’s insulation were no help. Ungrateful freeloading squatters. I give them free room and all the junk they could ever hope to hide in. The least they could do is give a guy a constructive suggestion once in a while.

All’s well that end’s well, though. I succeeded in getting the old compressor out and the new one in without having parts left over. It even started on the first try with no sparks, smoke or flames. A system flush and some R-134a later, the Windstar has cold AC again.

I can hear the Ford engineers back at their CAD programs cursing under their breath. Go on you turkeys. Take your best shot. Hurt me if you can.