| PZC2.5: Assembly is left as an exercise to the reader |
[Aug. 23rd, 2011|03:25 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
My writeup schedule has slipped; the following events transpired two weeks ago.
Behold, then, the results of painting in the dark.
Here we have two unassuming frame rails after their encounter with my various implements of torture. Angle grinders, 4 and 10lb sledges, c-clamps, clawhammers, power drills, 3ft prybars, cold chisels, hydraulic jacks, and crescent wrenches were all employed to stunning effect. The lousy rattle can paint job completes the effect. I remembered to prime, though, so the bubbles should be irrelevant.
Similar results were achieved with the core support. Slightly fewer tools were required, however.
Installation is not quite the reverse of removal for several reasons. One, I don't weld. Also, welding, as a process, is rather different from unwelding. Two, Emily, lovely as she is, is currently confined to my driveway. This obviously prevents me from bringing her to somewhere where welding occurs. Three, my gimcrack electrical service may or may not support the use of a welder on the premises.
No matter. Grade 8 bolts are pretty much the same thing, right?
For authenticity's sake, they should probably be class 9 bolts, but metric hardware is rather hard to come by. Since these bolts are new locations in the vehicle for bolts, this was less of an issue. Assembling the new radiator/condenser/accumulator assembly, however, was rather more problematic. For those keeping score at home, M8 hardware may as well be made of unobtanium. 5/16" is a rather more available substitute. On the plus side, I now have some surplus metric bits with which to build a shrine to failed domestic policy initiatives of the Carter administration (Luv ya, Jimmy).
Attaching a bumper:
Through cannibalizing about 7 Cherokees at the junkyard, I was able to obtain enough metric clip nuts of indeterminate size to attach the new-to-me bumper with stock hardware. I'd calculate the probability of braking a clip nut upon trying to remove its bolt, but that would just be depressing. Visible to the left of photo is the bailing wire mount for the vacuum reservoir. while the collision removed the mounting tabs from this device, it still hold vacuum, so bailing wire it is.
Replacement body panels (not strictly necessary, but easier to do while the car is apart anyway):
The Honda incident did not really require this, bit lingering damage from being put into the wall by a 60-year-old Mexican man with fake insurance back in the red stick has been bugging me.
I also felt like a passenger side mirror might be a nice touch (also, operable vent glass):
 Just as I was when I found the carbureted '94 in the junkyard when I was looking for a new head, I remain shocked and appalled at the neglect Chrysler showed this model. No passenger mirror screams '70s Honda Accord, fellas.
At last, the overall effect:
On the agenda: New water pump (completed), new fan clutch (obtained) new radiator/condenser/accumulator (obtained and assembled), and new fan (in the mail). Project Zombie Cherokee 2 thus slouches ever closer to completion. Project Zombie Cherokee 3, of course, will involve me learning to do real body work to fix the rear quarter damaged in that long-ago incident with the aforementioned fake insurance. Looking to get a new hatch too, but that can wait--the license plate hides the crack in the fiberglass. |
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| PZC2.4: But here's how it really happened... |
[Aug. 17th, 2011|02:24 pm] |
In honor of my new radiator arriving in the mail yesterday (which was only necessary because Baton Rouge Pull-A-Part crushed their 4-cylinder Cherokee the day I went to do pull its radiator), we now rejoin the continuing saga of Project Zombie Cherokee 2 as it occurred last Monday (Also because I have to wait for the sun to go behind the house to install the new water pump).
The order of battle that day was to somehow employ a hydraulic bottle jack and some of Home Depot's finest cull lumber in such a way as to reverse-Honda the Jeep's frame rails. Thus, I present:
That's how it could have happened. Now what about this...
Configuration 1 obviously suffered from the serious defect of the reservoir being below the master cylinder. The earth's gravitational field being the locally dominant one makes such a configuration rather unworkable, fluids being wont to flow downhill and such. Configuration 2 is far superior in this respect. The jack configured such that pumping was possible, expansion was perpetrated. Two problem emerged: 1, excessive movement of passenger side frame rail (which happened to alredy be in the right spot and 2, the movie clue does not have enough clever title cards to cover the remaining setup configurations.
Pressing on, configuration 3:
After pushing the hulk forward enough so that the spreading rig could be braced against a foundation column, the bottle jack gave a mighty heave and promptly embedded its lifting piston about 2 inches into the end of the 4x4. Bracing was effective. Jack extender, not so much.
But here's how it really happened...
Success! Aside from needing about seven hands to set this up, it addresses all of the shortcomings of previous methods. It even worked a little bit before launching itself into the air due to misalignment. Luckily, as I am not an octopus, making the setup rather difficult, the frame rail was moved enough that the core support fit in with minor persuasion.
At this point, it was off to the local Home Depot for paint. Fortunately, this Home Depot also traffics in refrescos.
Upon return, frame rails and core support were flap wheeled and painted. Unfortunately, this was done in the dark, as the light on the side of the house does not work. Rumor has it that the results are passable. |
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| PZC2.3: It's Electric! |
[Aug. 10th, 2011|09:16 pm] |
Saturday's first order of business was a little straightening work on the donor core support. Hammers and wrenches were employed to great utility. 
Then, thanks to the fine folks at a certain purveyor of cheap Chinese tools, the earthly remains of some long-dead dinosaurs were able to be employed in removing the original core support. Since they send me lots of coupons every month, cheap tools are even cheaper than cheap. I present a yet bigger boat: 
After several hours of drilling out spot welds with craptastic drill bits and cutting regular welds with a surprisingly not craptastic angle grinder, the mangled metal is half free.
The other side then proceeds to take even longer, as now the drill bits are even duller than how they started. Beyond that, removal proceeded without incident. I'd forgotten how much fun grinders are since I hadn't used one since when I had the Hut as a workshop.
With the welds ground down, the next order of business is the ritual straightening of the frame rails.
How to complete this task? Phase 1: enter the drift.
At long last, a suitable drift. or at least a reasonable facsimile of one. This tool made (relatively) short work of the crunched-up-ness seem on the passenger side frame rail. Further abuse of a crescent wrench brought things to a state of being fairly straight. Checking the fit, however, shows that it only fits because the new core support isn't quite straight.
This was expected, however, as test fits of the bumper (which I can't take pictures of and do at the same time) have suggested that the end of the drivers side frame rail is about 1/2" medial of where it should be. A fix, blessedly, awaits another day and a drier shirt. On a side note, previous entries have not mentioned how awesomely hot it is. These are 3 and 4 shirt days. And that's WITH wringing them out regularly.
The state of affairs at quitting time:
 |
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| PZC2.2: The saga continues |
[Aug. 6th, 2011|01:20 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  sore | ] |
Onward to Wednesday's events.
First, we have acquired a bigger boat.
No body panel can withstand the might of the ten pound hammer (except, apparently, the lower core support). After several hours of unbolting yet more pieces and beating the snot out of the front end with a hammer and a pry bar we arrive at this juncture:
The astute reader may note at this point that there exists a distinct fold in the core support. This indication that the frame rails are about 1/2" too close together has been confirmed via comparison to a comparatively undamaged front bumper. This, of course, seems like a perfect job for a hydraulic bottle jack and a 4x4. And an excuse for an even bigger boat.
Several hours at Pull-a-part with a cold chisel (Tonight. We dine. In HARVEY!) on Thursday then yielded a very cut-up chisel hand:
Also, a slightly less bent up core support was acquired. One chisel was broken. The other survived.
Not possessing a welder, I plan to bolt this on. Possibly through the spot weld holes that I mangled. After straightening it up a bit with the new Persuader (having lost the original Persuader in the junkyard some months ago). Lessons learned: cold chisels and hammers are not the most elegant of metal cutting implements.
On a side note, I am very glad I won a free t-shirt at pub quiz on Monday, which enabled be to wear a dry shirt home from the westbank. The yard shirt was thoroughly soaked and quite uncomfortable.
Coming soon: Tools and methods enter the 19th century, or practical applications of electricity to auto repair. |
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| Project Zombie Cherokee 2 |
[Aug. 3rd, 2011|11:04 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  hot | ] |
Just when you thought it was safe to go back out on the roads...
Greetings, internets. While it has been some time since I last regaled you with tales of automotive interest, Emily the zombie Cherokee's current trials have brought me back after this approximately 2 years and 1 month. Parts acquisition has been ongoing, but yesterday marked the commencement of Phase 1: Meatball Surgery.
But first, some preliminaries. Of course working on the car meas that I have to cut the weeds in the side yard, which is a job someone else gets paid to do. Unfortunately, as my landlord's lawn service is ripping her off, this means that trimming the side yard is a task roughly equivalent to hacking through the Amazonian jungle. It is only after using a string trimmer to embed several vegetal chunks in my legs, then, that the true project at hand could be commenced. Also, there's a pile of rotting plant matter out on the street now. I figure it's not my problem. I also was informed by my executive producer that Alan Alda was unavailable to get preachy about the Korean War. The subtitle of this segment, however, was too far along in production to be changed.
Now, then, the meat of our program. I first present, acquired at modest cost from the westbank and Baton Rouge, several Cherokee pieces:
They are decidedly not the same color as Emily. I rate this as a plus on the intimidation scale. As a sideline, part of my automotive philosophy is to make sure that my car is ugly enough that other drivers are scared to go near it. To put a terminological spin on it, "Defensive Driving in Depth." As part of this philosophy, environmental paint damage, multicolored body panels and strange mechanical noises are all useful features.
The starting carnage:
Note, of course, my scorched earth policy as applied to the local vegetation. Also, pay no attention to the two jars of (black) old brake fluid recently flushed out of stupidtoyota.
After several hours of unbolting various items from the front end, we arrive at this:
Well, there's your problem:
It appears that the fan and the radiator attempted to occupy the same place at the same time. The radiator responded to this by developing a gaping hole. The fan appears unfazed. After some preliminary attempts at straightening the lower core support, I think we're going to need a bigger hammer.
And, in closing, this is your bumper on Honda:
Thus was Tuesday. Coming soon; don't miss; PZC2.2: Beat the bloody piss out of it. |
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| Wherein I solve the world's problems. |
[Jul. 9th, 2009|08:43 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  nostalgic | ] |
I can fix college football tomorrow. Yep, tomorrow. Now you may be thinking that I'm going to say we should have a playoff. You would be wrong. The solution is a little bit more radical. We need to go back. Way back.
Thusly,
Mr. Peabody and his boy Sherman fire up the Way-Back machine and take us back to a time when the college football landscape made sense. A time before 1992 and the creation of the wretched Bowl Coalition. One might think that that were enough, but, lo, our time machine must continue. We must go back to before 1976 when the Sugar Bowl tied itself to the SEC. We must return prior to 1968 when the Orange Bowl shackled itself to the the Big 8. We must press on to heady 1946, a time before when the PCC and Big 9 hitched their wagons in perpetuity to the Rose Bowl. We can stop here since the SWC is dead anyway.
Returning to the present, we carry with us the memory of a time before conference tie-ins destroyed college football. The rot that set in in 1947 festered for quite some time. The presence of many independents masked the unsound structure. As we lost Penn State, Florida State, Miami, and many others from the ranks of the independents, the ramshackle nature of what had been built revealed itself. Throwing good money after bad, we attempted to press on, which has ultimately brought us the BCS.
So, tomorrow, we end abolish the BCS. In its stead, there are only two rules which apply to any and all bowls such as may arise.
1. Collusion between or among bowls is forbidden.
2. Conference tie-ins are forbidden.
The Rose Bowl crowd may howl, but I would point out that the Rose Bowl could invite its Big 10/Pac 10 friends every year. They may have to pay through the nose to get them and lock them up, but them's the breaks. Ah, the disruptive force of the pre-1991 Fiesta bowl loosed writ large! Two simple rules are all it take to get us the best possible system. Money talks. And national title games make money. Every bowl will want one. One will pay enough to get it. It's like Thunderdome. |
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| In which I return to the style of ljs of old |
[Jan. 18th, 2009|08:29 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Jenn's | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | CCR - Down on the corner (thanks heinz field public address) | ] |
For those of you who don't know, I had to move for this semester since Jarrod graduated and got a job in NOLA (congrats, incidentally). So I removed Emily's back seat and set about moving my life 3.5 miles in a compact SUV. Went pretty well, I'd say. The best part was probably an iteration of the trip I affectionately call "two couches, one jeep." I had pictures, but dropping the phone into a puddle apparently killed my microsd card (perhaps there is hope of salvage, but I hold out little hope). Suffice it to say, I had both halves of the big white sectional up on the roof at the same time. It looked pretty strange. At least that's what the looks I got from the patron of the Schlitz and Giggles tell me. Otherwise it was a fairly uneventful move. I didn't even manage to injure myself (which was a distinct possibility, considering the new place up in Spanish Town is on the second floor. I must be losing my touch. But enough about me being a hobo.
In a reprise of the good (bad?) old days, I actually have auto repair tales of interest. Last week, I finally got around to giving Emily a long overdue oil change. Despite my previous diatribes against the swill that is 10w30, this is now my oil spec. How did AMC do that when VW could not? AMC will never cease to surprise me. After draining the oil out of my 2.5 liters of four-cylindered fury, I come to realize that the new oil filter wrench that I procured is, to put it mildly, a piece of poo. A strap-type swivel wrench, it was neither the size shown on the package nor did it manage to swivel very well. The wrench from Susan, of course is very much too small. I then evaluate possible courses of action.
1: just fill it back up with oil and change the filter next time. This would have been the choice had I not been pushing 8-9k miles since the last oil change (you may now flog me with a wet noodle).
2: fill it back up with oil, drive to get new wrench, wait for engine to cool, change filter, wasting much oil in the process.
3: walk over to auto parts store and get a new wrench, change the filter, refill with oil.
Guess which door this fool chooses. Ok, there's a CarQuest on 14th and Government. That's not that far (ha!) I can do that. I set off. I get to 14th and Govt., and, lo, said Carquest is closed (the day, of course, being Sunday). This is where any sane person would have called off the quest. But, as anyone who has known me for some time already knows, I am hardly sane when it comes to auto repair. Curse my luck, I remember that i also saw an AutoZone in the phone book that was on 45th and Florida. Whet the hell, I've already come all this way, so I press on. The streets I walk become ever more ghettotatstic (what words!); I forge ahead. 40th and Florida, I see an O'Reilly. Salvation. Of course, when I go in, the oil aisle has about an inch of water in it (no foolin'). No matter. The wrench acquired, I head for home, pausing only to have my (paint-covered) shorts heckled by some punkass hanging out at the Greyhound station. Wow, dude, you're cool. Mission thus accomplished, I complete the oil change, having missed only 2.5 quarters of football. Only I could manage to screw up an oil change in this fashion.
When I return from NOLA, I'll post something more about my latest adventures in gimcrackery, as I need picture to do them justice. |
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| How is this not already on the internet? |
[Oct. 20th, 2008|08:47 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  procrastinatory | ] |
With all due apologies to EMF and the year 1991, here goes...
...Minnesota with the ball...fourth and one...crucial first down...Wilson hands off to Herschel Walker...Stuffed! by Rickey Jackson at the line...the Saints defense does it again...
Who Dat say they gonna beat dem Saints?
Who Dat tellin' those lies?
Our Saints are what it's all about:
Coach Mora, Morten, and the guys.
Don't say the Saints ain't tough enough;
Who Dats know the rules.
Niners and Falcons realize
They're all fools!
The Saints rule!
The Who Dats, they say:
Black and gold go all the way.
The Who Dats, they say:
Saints! You're unbelievable. (Oh!)
...Time running out in the fourth quarter--it comes down to this, Saints fans...fourth and goal, Hebert back to pass...he sees Turner...Touchdown! Unbelievable!...
Go Saints, go all the way--
That's what we're here to say.
Bobby and Ironhead lead the team
When the Saints come out to play.
Rock'n'roll,
hey we got soul;
Who dats in the Dome Patrol.
From Kenner to the Quarter,
We'll boogie with Benson;
We're going to the Super Bowl.
The Who Dats, they say:
Black and gold go all the way.
The Who Dats, they say:
Saints! You're unbelievable. (Oh!)
...The Saints have the ball early in the second quarter, second and goal...Hebert back, hands off to Heyward, around the end, Touchdown! Saints!...
Who Dat say they gonna beat dem Saints?
Who Dat tellin' those lies?
Our Saints are what it's all about:
Coach Mora, Morten, and the guys.
Don't say the Saints ain't tough enough;
Who Dats know the rules.
Niners and Falcons realize
They're all fools!
The Saints rule!
The Who Dats, they say:
Black and gold go all the way.
The Who Dats, they say:
Cha Ching! You're unbelievable. |
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| LA RS 32:194 |
[Oct. 14th, 2008|04:27 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  irate | ] |
§194. Traffic laws apply to persons riding bicycles
Every person riding a bicycle upon a highway of this state shall be granted all of the rights and shall be subject to all the duties applicable to the driver of a vehicle by this Chapter, except as to special regulations in this Part and except as to those provisions of this Chapter which by their very nature can have no application.
Acts 1962, No. 310, §1.
Yes, driver of that school bus, lady in the white sedan, dude in the white sedan, and U-haul driver who all have violated my rights today, I am allowed on the road on my bicycle. You can't pass me more closely than 2 feet, mr. school bus (6 inches does not count). You can't honk at me for traveling in the rightmost practicable portion of the lane, drivers of white sedans (see LA RS 32:197). And you most certainly should not speed up to pull along side me, slow down to my speed, scream out of your window "Get off the road," and then speed off, U-haul dude. Why can't we all just get along? Especially since I have the right to occupy as much of the travel lane as I deem necessary for my safety. |
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