superbuickguy
Explorer
annoying - I'm getting a 500 internal error while trying to post ... and the moderators won't answer.
The Wanderers build
- Thread starter superbuickguy
- Start date
superbuickguy
Explorer
steering box (that I hope solves one issue)
and wrong turbo
advertised with a T4 flange, a T4 flange is sitting on the T3 flange (I have a few, other, turbo parts.... part of my secret life as someone who doesn't just do Overland)
and wrong turbo
advertised with a T4 flange, a T4 flange is sitting on the T3 flange (I have a few, other, turbo parts.... part of my secret life as someone who doesn't just do Overland)
superbuickguy
Explorer
so today I got a steering box changed and a ceiling put back in... and I worked on my never-ending deck project.... I hate houses, but my wife says she won't live with me in the Suburban and I do kind of like her so deck is what she wants, deck is what I do. Yeah, I should put my foot down, but had I done that with the old deck; I'd have dropped straight through.... so deck with minor detour of truck-work
Steering box
there is good reason why my shop drive is still gravel
and ceiling
and the roof unit arrived today - so that will be next on the agenda to install
and yes, do something about the turbo....
Steering box
there is good reason why my shop drive is still gravel
and ceiling
and the roof unit arrived today - so that will be next on the agenda to install
and yes, do something about the turbo....
superbuickguy
Explorer
Coleman Mach 8 - it's the smallest and lowest profile a/c on the market.
don't like the heat from the doghouse in vans....
don't like the heat from the doghouse in vans....
superbuickguy
Explorer
two things today... both unresolved
the HVAC controller is/was possessed... so I replaced the part I think it needed replacing (the electronic controller), and the fan switch and... not... the vacuum switch. I didn't open the package for the vacuum switch before today. It came in 3 pieces, should have been just one unit.... so waiting for parts
then I moved onto the second, unresolved issue.
My choices
1) rebuild the existing turbo
2) replace the existing turbo with a Holset HX35w
3) replace the existing turbo with a mock-up turbo (I have two) for a Buick project that is likely going to be my retirement project (I'm 50, not planning on retiring until 75), and put in a waste gate
the issues
1) the existing turbo is stupid, there, I said it. it should really be completely re-engineered with a wastegate and intercooler - though the intercooler issue could be methanol as well... but no wastegate on a 6.2 is disaster waiting to happen - did I mention my wife will likely drive this occasionally? with that said, because of its small compressor, there's a chance it could be fine - after all, the 2 prior owners have no impressed me with the mechanical aptitude.... and this is, by far, the easiest solution. I've rebuilt turbos and it's actually pretty easy.
2) the holset has a wastegate (w) but would require substantial modification to make it fit both the exhaust and intake housings - and I think it has too small of a turbine and too large of a compressor for the 6.2 because it doesn't spool up fast enough then restricts the top end because of it's 2/3 T4 size.
3) the best solution of what I have as far as sizing, but likely the most work. It would bolt on the manifold but I need to weld a port for the wastegate.... and that real estate is crowded. On top of that I'd have to reengineer the intake (which I need to do anyway)...
Feel free to weigh in
the HVAC controller is/was possessed... so I replaced the part I think it needed replacing (the electronic controller), and the fan switch and... not... the vacuum switch. I didn't open the package for the vacuum switch before today. It came in 3 pieces, should have been just one unit.... so waiting for parts
then I moved onto the second, unresolved issue.
My choices
1) rebuild the existing turbo
2) replace the existing turbo with a Holset HX35w
3) replace the existing turbo with a mock-up turbo (I have two) for a Buick project that is likely going to be my retirement project (I'm 50, not planning on retiring until 75), and put in a waste gate
the issues
1) the existing turbo is stupid, there, I said it. it should really be completely re-engineered with a wastegate and intercooler - though the intercooler issue could be methanol as well... but no wastegate on a 6.2 is disaster waiting to happen - did I mention my wife will likely drive this occasionally? with that said, because of its small compressor, there's a chance it could be fine - after all, the 2 prior owners have no impressed me with the mechanical aptitude.... and this is, by far, the easiest solution. I've rebuilt turbos and it's actually pretty easy.
2) the holset has a wastegate (w) but would require substantial modification to make it fit both the exhaust and intake housings - and I think it has too small of a turbine and too large of a compressor for the 6.2 because it doesn't spool up fast enough then restricts the top end because of it's 2/3 T4 size.
3) the best solution of what I have as far as sizing, but likely the most work. It would bolt on the manifold but I need to weld a port for the wastegate.... and that real estate is crowded. On top of that I'd have to reengineer the intake (which I need to do anyway)...
Feel free to weigh in
This may sound stupid as I have never owned a diesel vehicle.....but how does a turbo even function without a waste gate? Do you have a exhaust brake or something upstream of the turbo (which also seems odd/stupid)? You may have answer the question with the disaster waiting to happen comment but IMO seems like a disaster or that is going to happen very soon IMO...
I'm also surprised about the comment on using Chinese turbos. Have them improved in quality over the last 8-10'ish years? I'm sure you know this but with something spinning at those speeds/temperatures tolerances and metallurgy mater greatly which Chinese manufacturing isn't exactly known for.
I'm also surprised about the comment on using Chinese turbos. Have them improved in quality over the last 8-10'ish years? I'm sure you know this but with something spinning at those speeds/temperatures tolerances and metallurgy mater greatly which Chinese manufacturing isn't exactly known for.
superbuickguy
Explorer
There's lots of nuance here but in general the purpose of a wastegate is to limit the amount of boost - that also can be done by limiting the size of the turbo. There is a lot more to it, but the general answer to your question is if the turbo is appropriately sized, you don't need a wastegate. With that said, more boost can help achieve more hp, as can using the 'wrong' size turbine so that it spools up faster or creates boost at some other point on the torque curve. For example, the turbo for the buick is one of two and while it would lag, terribly, the design is to make hp and let either engine torque (which is has prodigious amounts) get it off the line or simply use a higher-stall torque converter to get the rpm up to where it's developing boost.... which is why I said there's lots of nuance.
the second part of your question - disaster - turbos create heat and the absolute best controller of that heat is the meatsack that is between the steering wheel and seat. Of course, that means that, beside watching where the meatsack is going he or she needs to pay attention to the pyrometer and coolant temp gauges... and when things get too warm, reduce the pressure on the accelerator pedal... if the turbo is small, then that amount of attention required is greatly reduced. If the turbo is large, things can go sideways in 90 seconds or less.
Chinese turbos are better - but the happy point where budget and quality meet is buying Chinese hard parts then paying an American machine shop to test and tune those parts. That is the story with the Buick turbo. Built in China, ported, cleaned, and balanced by a reputable shop here.
the second part of your question - disaster - turbos create heat and the absolute best controller of that heat is the meatsack that is between the steering wheel and seat. Of course, that means that, beside watching where the meatsack is going he or she needs to pay attention to the pyrometer and coolant temp gauges... and when things get too warm, reduce the pressure on the accelerator pedal... if the turbo is small, then that amount of attention required is greatly reduced. If the turbo is large, things can go sideways in 90 seconds or less.
Chinese turbos are better - but the happy point where budget and quality meet is buying Chinese hard parts then paying an American machine shop to test and tune those parts. That is the story with the Buick turbo. Built in China, ported, cleaned, and balanced by a reputable shop here.
AlexCold
Observer
Just joined the site because I've recently purchased an 86 K20 Suburban and was looking for build threads for inspiration. Your's has definitely been at the top of the list and learning a lot from it. Especially like reading the "Wanderers" as something new that were before my time reading off-road magazines.
What you're doing with the external AC unit is interesting. If I understand correctly, with the two deep cycle batteries and solar, you'll be able to get a few hours of run time? If so you could go for quite some time if you had a HV pack from a Volt or Leaf.
What you're doing with the external AC unit is interesting. If I understand correctly, with the two deep cycle batteries and solar, you'll be able to get a few hours of run time? If so you could go for quite some time if you had a HV pack from a Volt or Leaf.
superbuickguy
Explorer
you are correct - I got out-bid on a wrecked Leaf not too long ago (I'm a cheapskate, it was 900 and I was only willing to pay 800). The Leaf battery pack is easier to package because it's a 36"x12x12 box as opposed to the Volt that is T-shaped and substantially physically larger. The Volt battery, though, is substantially larger in capacity.
About A/C, batteries and such - many people want an all or nothing solution. Such as, they can park for a year and never start a motor to generate battery power. That's important to them but not even in my wheelhouse. As you live in Arizona, such a performance demand is important, but in Washington? not so much. Around here, you need A/C for 3 or 4 hours (roughly 3-7pm) for maybe 3 months a year. When you're trying to keep dogs cool (which is the entire point of all of this) - so I don't need the capacity to run it longer then that.... which is also why there will be a generator plug on the outside, in case I need more, I can simply pull a cord. Not just that, but I have a switch where the house system is divorced or connected or fully run by the vehicle's charging system so the need to even carry a generator is greatly reduced. Even better in all of this is the generator will be dual-fuel so that I can run it off the on-board propane tank.
AlexCold
Observer
Reading the thread I was hoping you would do a HV battery to see how you would package it. The Volt battery adds more complexity since it's liquid cooled. I do think it's possible but would take some nifty work. I work for GM in vehicle durability as a test engineer so I have some experience with Volt systems. A Spark EV pack is a nice cube with the added benefit of liquid cooling for optimum performance.
Sent from my SM-G920V using Tapatalk
Sent from my SM-G920V using Tapatalk
superbuickguy
Explorer
Send me a battery, I'll try it 
AlexCold
Observer
If it were that easy I'd send you two!Send me a battery, I'll try it
Sent from my SM-G920V using Tapatalk
superbuickguy
Explorer
THE WANDERERS #24
FORD VS CHEVY: GUT LEVEL COMPETITION
BY RICK SIEMAN
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just competed (rather successfully) at a Mud Bog Championship in Nebraska. We join them now as they head North, with no particular goal in mind:
***
Emma put down her knitting and sighed. "Carl, where are we going anyways? I mean, I don't mind wandering along, but do you have any ideas or places in the back of your mind?"
"Well, honey pot, I figured we might just sorta wander up towards Canada and hit the trails. I hear they got the best fishin' imaginable. But I ain't in no hurry to get there. Nosirree. There's not a whole lot that would get me off a this here kicked-back cruisin' pace right now."
A large billboard loomed up ahead. Emma pointed a knitting needle at it. "Look, dear. I've heard about this place. Would you like to stop there and eat?"
Carl peered at the sign, then his eyes lit up and drool started to form in the back of his mouth. The sign read: "BIG BOB'S BEEF - HOME OF THE SIX POUND STEAK. EAT ONE, GET ONE FREE!"
The Whale skidded sideways on the pavement, smoke pouring from all four of the huge Gumbo Mudder tires. Emma smiled. "Does this mean 'yes', dear?"
Carl studied the sign incredulously. "Is that for real, Emma? I mean, a SIX POUND STEAK? And if you eat it, you get another one free?"
Emma nodded her head. "Yes, indeed, dear. I read about it in one of those trucker magazines you stole from that gas station back in Oklahoma. It works like this: if you can eat the entire steak, it's free. Or they'll give you another steak at no charge. It costs $24.95 for the steak, but that also includes a salad and fries."
Carl stared at the sign. "You know, Emma. As a real American, I feel that I'm up to this challenge. In fact, I feel honor bound to give it a shot."
Three exits down the road, Carl darted off and slid into the parking lot. Seeing as it was mid-day, only a few vehicles were in the gravel parking lot. A huge sign was on top of the barn-like building, showing a smiling cowboy biting into the leg of a wide-eyed cow.
The floor of Big Bob's Beef Barn was rough wood with sawdust on it. The tables were heavy planked wood without tablecloths. Carl and Emma looked around. It was as big as a barn, in fact, it WAS a barn, all re-done with tables and a bar.
Carl and Emma took a seat and a few moments later, a huge bouffant hairdo with a waitress underneath it cheerfully bounced up to the table. Literally bounced. Her frontal structure was spectacular, to say the least. Carl stared as her superstructure stopped almost dead even with his eyes. "Hi! My name is Modine and I'll be your waitress. Can I get you folks something to drink while y'all take a look at the menu. How 'bout you, big boy? Can I get you a real man-sized Big Bob's Big Pitcher of beer?"
Carl was still staring at Modine's considerable bosom at near point blank range when Emma's sharp elbow caught him in the ribs. "Oh, yeah. I'll have some cold suds and a Yoo Hoo cola for the missus here. What's good on the menu?"
"We got little steaks, medium steaks and big steaks. You get salads with some, beans with some others and fries with all of 'em. It's pretty much all the same stuff with a bunch of hokey names, like the kiddie's steak: it's called the Little Buckaroo Beef-a-roo. The cook just cuts a small piece off of a big steak and slaps it on a plate. But the real winner is the one you probably seen on the billboard on the way in. It's Big Bob's Barn Burnin' Gut Bomb Six Pounder. Seventy-six ounces of beef with no bone in it. How 'bout it, cutey? You man enough?"
Another elbow shot to the ribs from Emma brought Carl out of his mental stupor. "Uhhh, yes... I'll have the Bob's Big Boob, I mean, Big Boob's Barn...I mean Big Bob's Big Bra Burner... I mean...I mean.... yes, I'll have the steak, please. With no bone in it."
Modine turned toward Emma and nearly whacked Carl in the face with her mighty bosom. His face turned bright red and the short hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Emma managed a chilly smile. "Yes, waitress. I'll have the Indian Princess Petite Two Pounder with a salad and no fries, please. And make sure that my Yoo Hoo cola is nice and cold. Oh yes... while you're at it, could you bring a muzzle for my husband here?"
A few minutes later, Modine dropped off the beer and the Yoo Hoo cola. "Looks like that guy over there with the Ford t-shirt on is gonna get one of the big steaks, too. I told him you ordered one, and he said, and I quote: If a Chevy man can eat one of those steaks, then a Ford man should be able to eat at least two."
Carl looked puzzled. " How'd he know I was a Chevy man?"
Emma giggled. "Carl, take a look at your own t-shirt."
Carl peered down and read it upside down. In giant red letters, the shirt said: FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS DRIVE FORDS! and underneath in smaller blue letters, it said: FORD MEANS FIX OR REPAIR DAILY! Certainly not the kind of shirt meant to win friends in the Dearborn area.
Carl raised a glass of beer in a toast to the Ford guy, and smiled. "Care to join us?"
A few moments later, Modine had shifted all the paper plates to one table, and the new foursome introduced themselves. "Hello. This here's Emma and I'm Carl. We drive that big Suburban out front."
They shook hands. "Well, my name is Emmet and this here's Carol, my wife. And I'm sorry to hear you got a Chevy. What did you do, sustain a vicious loss in a poker game and have to sell your real truck? Haw, haw!”
Carl sipped some more beer. "Nope. What do you drive?"
"A full-sized Bronco. The Eddie Bauer model, with all the bells and whistles."
Carl smiled. "Oh yeah. Nice little truck. 'Bout the same size as a pregnant Toyota, ain't it? And it's only got two doors. How do you get in, Emmet? Crawl through the back? Ya see, my Suburban is a real full-sized truck and I got a handy four-door model, but I guess some folks just like mini-trucks, right?"
Emmet bristled. “I wouldn't exactly call a 104.2 inch wheelbase a mini truck."
Carl sucked down some more suds. "Naw. Guess you're right. It would take another foot or so to get it up to the mini-truck class. 'Course, that Teddy Bear model must be real cute … “
Emmet exploded. "Eddy Bauer! He's a great outdoorsman. you wouldn't know anything about that with your Land Suburban. My Bronco is nimble enough to go off road."
"Hah! And you think my Suburban ain't? Wellsir, howsa 'bout we make a little bet here. Soon as we get done with this tasty snack, what say we head out to the hills and lay out a course and have some informal competition. And the loser picks up the tab for another meal here at Big Bob's Barn?"
Emmet pounded his mug on the table, splashing some beer on his wife in the process. "You're on! But let's go one better, shall we? Howsa 'bout a steak eatin' contest. Ford man against Chevy person. Loser picks up the tab for the whole table. You game?"
Carl stuck out a big hand. "Done! Now, let's bring on the steaks!!!"
***
Modine was wheezing and panting from the two trays she was carrying. Carl was impressed. "Wow! Lookit that. Those are nice looking steaks!"
Modine smiled. "Them are the Indian Princess Petite Two Pounders, gents. Yours are comin' up in a minute or so.
***
A few minutes later, Modine dragged a cart in with two huge steaks on it, both overlapping the plates. Another pair of plates was laden with french fries, dripping and oozing as if they were fried in straight STP.
Carl gulped.
Emmet gulped.
"Dig in, boys," said Modine, "and there's plenty more where this came from!"
The steak was great. Both Carl and Emmet dug in and started taking huge sections out of the six pound hunks of meat, but wished that Modine hadn't been quite so generous with those fries. Oh, they were tasty, but Carl figured they had been fried in at least 90 weight oil, if not outright STP.
Both men made excellent progress through the steak, but slowed down considerably on the last pound or so. Carl was getting thirsty, but didn't want to give anything away to Emmet. "Say there, Ford guy. I'll have a glass of beer if'n you will. Don't want to be unfair, ya know."
Emmet grunted and both men poured out a welcome beer, which however, proved quite filling. A few discreet belches settled things a bit, and they dove back into the steaks.
About a half hour later, both plates were empty and the two men leaned waaaay back in their chairs. The wives were still pecking away at their "petite" two pounders.
Modine bounced up to the table with an unbearably cheery grin on her face. "Well, are my two little steak eaters ready for round two?"
"Oh, sure. You bet," they both said at the same time.
A half hour later, Modine was back with a pair of steaks that looked bigger than the first ones.
"Yummy", said Carl.
"Double yummy", said Emmet.
Ninety minutes passed, and both men were taking little bites and putting lots of A-l sauce and hot stuff on to change the taste. The women were chatting away like long lost friends, their steaks long since gone. Emma was on her sixth Yoo Hoo cola and Carol was slamming down diet Sprites about one every 15 minutes.
Modine waddled up to the table. "You boys ain't done yet? What's takin' so long? There was a guy in here just last month who finished two of the big steaks in under two hours. And he drove a Subaru Brat."
Both men dove back into their respective steaks with a renewed frenzy for about ten minutes, then slumped in their chairs.
Emmet looked up at Carl, his eyes wobbling slightly off center, barely able to breathe. "Carl, it looks to me that at this point we're just about dead even Whattaya say we settle the balance of this combat out on the trails? I'm gettin' to the point where I might turn into a veterinarian."
"You mean a vegetarian."
"Whatever. You wanna call it a draw at the table?"
Carl leaned forward slightly, and two of the buttons on his shirt popped off, one of them landing in the beer pitcher on the adjoining table. "Actually, I'm sort of getting my second wind. Might even have a dessert when we're done."
Emmet groaned. "OK. If you want to hard-ball it, I'll match you fork for fork." With that, he cut off another chunk of the mammoth steak and started chewing.
Carl, seeing his determination, reconsidered things quickly. "Emmet, you got a deal. We'll call it a draw here and meet on the fields of honor manana. A little Mexican lingo there. Deal?"
Emmet stuck out his hand. “Deal. So tomorrow it'll be Ford versus Chevy for all the marbles."
***
Well now. It appears that a classic confrontation is shaping up. Will it be Ford or Chevy? Will either one of the combatants be able to move away from the table? Stay tuned for the semi-thrilling conclusion next month. Personally, I can hardly stand the suspense.
FORD VS CHEVY: GUT LEVEL COMPETITION
BY RICK SIEMAN
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just competed (rather successfully) at a Mud Bog Championship in Nebraska. We join them now as they head North, with no particular goal in mind:
***
Emma put down her knitting and sighed. "Carl, where are we going anyways? I mean, I don't mind wandering along, but do you have any ideas or places in the back of your mind?"
"Well, honey pot, I figured we might just sorta wander up towards Canada and hit the trails. I hear they got the best fishin' imaginable. But I ain't in no hurry to get there. Nosirree. There's not a whole lot that would get me off a this here kicked-back cruisin' pace right now."
A large billboard loomed up ahead. Emma pointed a knitting needle at it. "Look, dear. I've heard about this place. Would you like to stop there and eat?"
Carl peered at the sign, then his eyes lit up and drool started to form in the back of his mouth. The sign read: "BIG BOB'S BEEF - HOME OF THE SIX POUND STEAK. EAT ONE, GET ONE FREE!"
The Whale skidded sideways on the pavement, smoke pouring from all four of the huge Gumbo Mudder tires. Emma smiled. "Does this mean 'yes', dear?"
Carl studied the sign incredulously. "Is that for real, Emma? I mean, a SIX POUND STEAK? And if you eat it, you get another one free?"
Emma nodded her head. "Yes, indeed, dear. I read about it in one of those trucker magazines you stole from that gas station back in Oklahoma. It works like this: if you can eat the entire steak, it's free. Or they'll give you another steak at no charge. It costs $24.95 for the steak, but that also includes a salad and fries."
Carl stared at the sign. "You know, Emma. As a real American, I feel that I'm up to this challenge. In fact, I feel honor bound to give it a shot."
Three exits down the road, Carl darted off and slid into the parking lot. Seeing as it was mid-day, only a few vehicles were in the gravel parking lot. A huge sign was on top of the barn-like building, showing a smiling cowboy biting into the leg of a wide-eyed cow.
The floor of Big Bob's Beef Barn was rough wood with sawdust on it. The tables were heavy planked wood without tablecloths. Carl and Emma looked around. It was as big as a barn, in fact, it WAS a barn, all re-done with tables and a bar.
Carl and Emma took a seat and a few moments later, a huge bouffant hairdo with a waitress underneath it cheerfully bounced up to the table. Literally bounced. Her frontal structure was spectacular, to say the least. Carl stared as her superstructure stopped almost dead even with his eyes. "Hi! My name is Modine and I'll be your waitress. Can I get you folks something to drink while y'all take a look at the menu. How 'bout you, big boy? Can I get you a real man-sized Big Bob's Big Pitcher of beer?"
Carl was still staring at Modine's considerable bosom at near point blank range when Emma's sharp elbow caught him in the ribs. "Oh, yeah. I'll have some cold suds and a Yoo Hoo cola for the missus here. What's good on the menu?"
"We got little steaks, medium steaks and big steaks. You get salads with some, beans with some others and fries with all of 'em. It's pretty much all the same stuff with a bunch of hokey names, like the kiddie's steak: it's called the Little Buckaroo Beef-a-roo. The cook just cuts a small piece off of a big steak and slaps it on a plate. But the real winner is the one you probably seen on the billboard on the way in. It's Big Bob's Barn Burnin' Gut Bomb Six Pounder. Seventy-six ounces of beef with no bone in it. How 'bout it, cutey? You man enough?"
Another elbow shot to the ribs from Emma brought Carl out of his mental stupor. "Uhhh, yes... I'll have the Bob's Big Boob, I mean, Big Boob's Barn...I mean Big Bob's Big Bra Burner... I mean...I mean.... yes, I'll have the steak, please. With no bone in it."
Modine turned toward Emma and nearly whacked Carl in the face with her mighty bosom. His face turned bright red and the short hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Emma managed a chilly smile. "Yes, waitress. I'll have the Indian Princess Petite Two Pounder with a salad and no fries, please. And make sure that my Yoo Hoo cola is nice and cold. Oh yes... while you're at it, could you bring a muzzle for my husband here?"
A few minutes later, Modine dropped off the beer and the Yoo Hoo cola. "Looks like that guy over there with the Ford t-shirt on is gonna get one of the big steaks, too. I told him you ordered one, and he said, and I quote: If a Chevy man can eat one of those steaks, then a Ford man should be able to eat at least two."
Carl looked puzzled. " How'd he know I was a Chevy man?"
Emma giggled. "Carl, take a look at your own t-shirt."
Carl peered down and read it upside down. In giant red letters, the shirt said: FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS DRIVE FORDS! and underneath in smaller blue letters, it said: FORD MEANS FIX OR REPAIR DAILY! Certainly not the kind of shirt meant to win friends in the Dearborn area.
Carl raised a glass of beer in a toast to the Ford guy, and smiled. "Care to join us?"
A few moments later, Modine had shifted all the paper plates to one table, and the new foursome introduced themselves. "Hello. This here's Emma and I'm Carl. We drive that big Suburban out front."
They shook hands. "Well, my name is Emmet and this here's Carol, my wife. And I'm sorry to hear you got a Chevy. What did you do, sustain a vicious loss in a poker game and have to sell your real truck? Haw, haw!”
Carl sipped some more beer. "Nope. What do you drive?"
"A full-sized Bronco. The Eddie Bauer model, with all the bells and whistles."
Carl smiled. "Oh yeah. Nice little truck. 'Bout the same size as a pregnant Toyota, ain't it? And it's only got two doors. How do you get in, Emmet? Crawl through the back? Ya see, my Suburban is a real full-sized truck and I got a handy four-door model, but I guess some folks just like mini-trucks, right?"
Emmet bristled. “I wouldn't exactly call a 104.2 inch wheelbase a mini truck."
Carl sucked down some more suds. "Naw. Guess you're right. It would take another foot or so to get it up to the mini-truck class. 'Course, that Teddy Bear model must be real cute … “
Emmet exploded. "Eddy Bauer! He's a great outdoorsman. you wouldn't know anything about that with your Land Suburban. My Bronco is nimble enough to go off road."
"Hah! And you think my Suburban ain't? Wellsir, howsa 'bout we make a little bet here. Soon as we get done with this tasty snack, what say we head out to the hills and lay out a course and have some informal competition. And the loser picks up the tab for another meal here at Big Bob's Barn?"
Emmet pounded his mug on the table, splashing some beer on his wife in the process. "You're on! But let's go one better, shall we? Howsa 'bout a steak eatin' contest. Ford man against Chevy person. Loser picks up the tab for the whole table. You game?"
Carl stuck out a big hand. "Done! Now, let's bring on the steaks!!!"
***
Modine was wheezing and panting from the two trays she was carrying. Carl was impressed. "Wow! Lookit that. Those are nice looking steaks!"
Modine smiled. "Them are the Indian Princess Petite Two Pounders, gents. Yours are comin' up in a minute or so.
***
A few minutes later, Modine dragged a cart in with two huge steaks on it, both overlapping the plates. Another pair of plates was laden with french fries, dripping and oozing as if they were fried in straight STP.
Carl gulped.
Emmet gulped.
"Dig in, boys," said Modine, "and there's plenty more where this came from!"
The steak was great. Both Carl and Emmet dug in and started taking huge sections out of the six pound hunks of meat, but wished that Modine hadn't been quite so generous with those fries. Oh, they were tasty, but Carl figured they had been fried in at least 90 weight oil, if not outright STP.
Both men made excellent progress through the steak, but slowed down considerably on the last pound or so. Carl was getting thirsty, but didn't want to give anything away to Emmet. "Say there, Ford guy. I'll have a glass of beer if'n you will. Don't want to be unfair, ya know."
Emmet grunted and both men poured out a welcome beer, which however, proved quite filling. A few discreet belches settled things a bit, and they dove back into the steaks.
About a half hour later, both plates were empty and the two men leaned waaaay back in their chairs. The wives were still pecking away at their "petite" two pounders.
Modine bounced up to the table with an unbearably cheery grin on her face. "Well, are my two little steak eaters ready for round two?"
"Oh, sure. You bet," they both said at the same time.
A half hour later, Modine was back with a pair of steaks that looked bigger than the first ones.
"Yummy", said Carl.
"Double yummy", said Emmet.
Ninety minutes passed, and both men were taking little bites and putting lots of A-l sauce and hot stuff on to change the taste. The women were chatting away like long lost friends, their steaks long since gone. Emma was on her sixth Yoo Hoo cola and Carol was slamming down diet Sprites about one every 15 minutes.
Modine waddled up to the table. "You boys ain't done yet? What's takin' so long? There was a guy in here just last month who finished two of the big steaks in under two hours. And he drove a Subaru Brat."
Both men dove back into their respective steaks with a renewed frenzy for about ten minutes, then slumped in their chairs.
Emmet looked up at Carl, his eyes wobbling slightly off center, barely able to breathe. "Carl, it looks to me that at this point we're just about dead even Whattaya say we settle the balance of this combat out on the trails? I'm gettin' to the point where I might turn into a veterinarian."
"You mean a vegetarian."
"Whatever. You wanna call it a draw at the table?"
Carl leaned forward slightly, and two of the buttons on his shirt popped off, one of them landing in the beer pitcher on the adjoining table. "Actually, I'm sort of getting my second wind. Might even have a dessert when we're done."
Emmet groaned. "OK. If you want to hard-ball it, I'll match you fork for fork." With that, he cut off another chunk of the mammoth steak and started chewing.
Carl, seeing his determination, reconsidered things quickly. "Emmet, you got a deal. We'll call it a draw here and meet on the fields of honor manana. A little Mexican lingo there. Deal?"
Emmet stuck out his hand. “Deal. So tomorrow it'll be Ford versus Chevy for all the marbles."
***
Well now. It appears that a classic confrontation is shaping up. Will it be Ford or Chevy? Will either one of the combatants be able to move away from the table? Stay tuned for the semi-thrilling conclusion next month. Personally, I can hardly stand the suspense.
superbuickguy
Explorer
Water system
time to modify the wheel well
not easy blowing holes through the side of a vehicle
but it does finish nicely
still waiting for the fill hose, but getting there
time to modify the wheel well
not easy blowing holes through the side of a vehicle
but it does finish nicely
still waiting for the fill hose, but getting there