The Wanderers build

[superbuickguy]

a step to the side to test out my tube bender... I need to build a rack that will hold the awning -

thinnest wall 1" tube crushed a bit.... I always struggle with bends, you 'gain' 5 3/16 inches with every bend in each direction.... what I usually forget is to subtract the 5 3/16 twice when there are two bends - what that means is say the overall dimension is 50" with two bends the amount of material you need for 2 bends is 10 3/8 less then 50" or 39 5/8. Anyway, the method to the madness is I need the space where the tube is stored - and part of that is a rack for the Colorado and the roll cage for the Corvette... practicing on $30 1" tube is far cheaper then $200 1 5/8 DOM or $100 .88 weld seam.

 

[AlexCold]

Not sure if you've used a typical horizontal style bender (I assume you have), do you think there are any advantages to a vertical model like the rogue or others you can fab yourself?

 

[superbuickguy]

Not sure if you've used a typical horizontal style bender (I assume you have), do you think there are any advantages to a vertical model like the rogue or others you can fab yourself?

I like the vertical ones because usually I don't have a lot of room horizontally but have plenty of vertical space.

 

[AlexCold]

That's what I assumed now to decide when to buy one.

 

[superbuickguy]

JD2 and Rogue both make excellent machines

 

[superbuickguy]

last piece so I can do the bulk of the work
an adjustable bypass valve - the one with the turbo is 20 psi, which is about 8 more then what will blow up the 6.5....

old turbo

and down at the bottom is what took most of the work to change (oil drain)

the hose

and viola

there is a difference between 1/2 ton and 3/4 ton.... fixing it now

mods to the newer cross over

interestingly, the kit I bought had a reducer - I didn't need it, but needed just a coupler... that was in stock

it works fine.... now for the air cleaner and pyrometer

 

[superbuickguy]

new device for suburban

tomorrow, the last of the pieces come so I can finish the turbo install

then the rack

 

[superbuickguy]

a brief update. there would be pictures, but that would require a camera. Not sure where it is living at the moment - so you'll have to trust me on this. Turbo works great, 5 psi (which is a good number for shaking it down). Sadly there is no turbo whistle yet (I know, I know, throw that thing away). I got the snorkel for it, and Sunday I plan on building a cold-air box to connect up all the bits. Amazon Prime failed me so I didn't get the parts when I needed them... ah well, one snafu in hundreds of great deliveries is darn good odds - though why it has to happen when I need the part now; I dunno.

 

[superbuickguy]

One of my favorite of his stories

OFF-ROAD MARCH 1994 THE WANDERERS # 62





HEADLINE: THE WANDERERS

SUBHEAD: CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO DIRTYNESS

BYLINE: BY RICK SIEMAN



(NOTE TO ART DEPARTMENT. SUGGESTION FOR ILLUSTRATION. HOW ABOUT A DRAWING OF A SHOWER CURTAIN HOOKED TO THE BACK OF THE WHALE, WITH CARL'S BARE FEET SHOWN BENEATH THE CURTAIN, AND A MULTITUDE OF CARTOON-TYPE CURSE WORDS COMING OUT OF THE TOP OF THE SHOWER?)



FORWARD: Carl and Emma live the good life. Carl, a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer, drives a huge 4WD Suburban all over the country to explore off-roading areas. The Suburban, nicknamed The Whale, is loaded to the max with every goody known to man. Emma, a very patient lady, tries to keep the short-fused Carl out of as much trouble as possible.

***

When we last left our wandering friends, Carl had just literally blown his boat out of the water while trying to fish with a stick of dynamite. For the ugly details, you'll have to dig up the last issue of Off-Road. Needless to say, Emma wasn't too thrilled at having to swim for her life in two fishing expeditions in a row. To smooth things out, Carl decided to get her calmed down with a little back-to-nature camping.

Carl found a dirt road branching off a secondary highway, and about ten miles back, located a near-perfect camping spot. He parked The Whale under a grove of trees, next to a small stream, and set up camp.

Before the sun set, he had the folding table unfolded and two comfortable chairs in place. The small portable grill was taken off the roof rack, and within minutes, Carl had the charcoal briquettes flaming nicely.

Emma got the steaks out of the fridge and marinated them in a mixture of beer, hot sauce and cheap red wine. She prepped things in the usual manner: a small lean eight ounce steak for her, and three pound chuck steak for Carl. Carl like the cheapest, biggest, thickest, hardest-to-chew steak money could buy. And he liked fat on the edges and bones in the middle. Watching Carl eat a steak was much like watching a pack of rabid wolverines munching on a chubby pig.

While Emma was soaking the steaks, Carl wrinkled up a beer can and tossed it in a plastic bag. "Think I'll go clean up a bit. I got enough road grit in my shirt collar to start a crop of corn."

Emma shuddered at that image. "Save me some water, dear. We only have about 30 gallons in the tank." While Carl was in the shower, she thumbed through the pages of some back issues of Off-Road Magazine.

About ten minutes later, Carl emerged from The Whale nice and clean, but with a big lump on his forehead, and cursing as only an ex-Chief Petty Officer could. Emma was concerned. "What happened, dear?"

"I banged my %*&^$^&**%#@#@+*# head on that #%$#$#%#^$*%# shower nozzle. There's not enough room in there for a full-sized hamster. I almost poked my eye out with a toothbrush and damned near sterilized myself on the hot water handle. I sure wish we had us a full-sized shower."

Emma smiled. "Lookee here, Carl. This story in Off-Road tells all about how to build a shower into your cooling system on most any truck. And there's ads in the back from a couple of companies that sell these neat kits you can install."

Carl popped open another can of Tree Frog beer and grabbed the magazine. As he sucked the beer noisily down, his thick forefinger ran across the page. "Hey, this is pretty neat! But you know what? I think I can make one of these things myself. It don't look all that hard to fabricate. All you really need to do is get a decent sized tank for the water and plumb it into your cooling system. You run your motor, the water gets hot and you take a shower. I can fix up a nice big shower curtain on the back of The Whale and have a big roomy shower, then detach it when I'm done."

Emma shrugged. "Why not just order one of these ready-to-go kits, Carl? They don't cost all that much."

Carl grinned. "Emma, you're missing the point. Every dollar I spend on something I don't have to spend, is a dollar I could be spending on something important, like more of this here beer. It's just a matter of parities."

"You mean priorities."

"That's what I said, woman. You got wax in your ears?"

Emma just sighed and opened up another bottle of Yoo-Hoo Chocolate Soda. When Carl got his mind set on something, it was often best to just step aside and let him go.

The evening was fantastic, and they were treated to an eye-popping red-orange sunset. Carl decimated a hero-size stock of Tree Frog beer while inhaling his steak, and followed it down with a bunch of Slim-Jim sausage-sticks and 12 pickled eggs. All the while, he made sketches on a yellow legal-sized pad for the plans for his new shower.

When they retired in the sizable interior of The Whale for the night, Carl was already letting out belches that hinted of acetylene and methane gas. Emma wisely opened up all the windows and tuned on the small fan, hoping for the best.

***

The next day, Carl headed into the nearby small town for some goodies, while Emma sat back, relaxed and read a mushy romance novel about pirates kidnapping beautiful women and taking them off to desert islands. The pirate on the cover of the book didn't look anything at all like Carl. He had long flowing blond hair, while Carl had a short-cropped red crew-cut. The pirate was tall and muscular, while Carl was short, round and fat. About the only thing the two had in common was thick muscular arms, and Carl had a tattoo of a Navy anchor on his forearm, while the handsome pirate had a tattoo of a skull and crossbones. Emma just sighed deeply and flipped through the pages, letting her mind wander.

***

Carl drove up to the campsite in the early afternoon, bubbling over with excitement. "Take a look at The Whale, Emma! I got three 40 gallon hot water heaters hooked to the roof. They were on sale, and I got 'em for a good price. They're all attached to each other with hoses, so we'll never run out of water again. Now we got us 120 gallons of water to take showers with. All I got to do now is hook this whole deal into the cooling system."

Two hours later, Carl slammed the hood shut on The Whale and wiped his hands clean on a red shop rag. "Done! Now if you'll notice, I hooked a shower curtain up on the back of The Whale. This gives me plenty of room to flail around while I soap up. To keep my feet from getting dirty, I simply yank the floor mats out of the front and stand on that. Purty neat, huh? Now stand back woman, while I give it a test shower!"

Carl fired up The Whale and let it idle for a few minutes until the temperature gauge got up to the middle. He then stripped down to his boxer shorts, and drew the shower curtain closed. A moment later, the boxer shorts were flipped over the edge and Carl yelled, "Here goes!"

The sound of running water ensued and Carl stuck a hand out of the split in the curtains. "Hey, hand me the shampoo, will ya?"

Emma passed the shampoo to Carl and settled back in her recliner. Carl whistled happily, and Emma could see suds frothing over the top of the curtain. But something was odd. A greenish substance oozed out from the floor mat and spread out in puddle.

A half minute later, Carl bolted out of the shower, buck naked, with a huge cloud of green suds covering his head. He was coughing, sputtering and swearing loudly. "What the $%&%*#$%&**#$ is happening here? My head feels like I'm washing it in turpentine! Hand me a towel, quick!"

 

[superbuickguy]

Emma tossed a thick beach towel to Carl, and he rubbed the greenish mess off his head. "Holy smokes, my eyes are burning! Give me something to wash my eyes out. Anything! Quick!"

Emma handed Carl the only thing she could find: a half bottle of Yoo Hoo Chocolate Soda. Carl poured it over his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, then looked at the bottle. "Emma? Do you think you might be able to find me some regular drinking water? I don't think chocolate soda is the perfect thing for cleaning out my eyeballs."

Ten minutes later, Carl had his eyes cleaned out and, with a towel wrapped around his sizable waist, studied the situation. "Hmmmm. I think I spotted the source of my problem. This here green stuff is coolant from the radiator. I never figured on that. I'll have to re-engineer this here shower set-up."

About two hours later, Carl slammed the hood shut on The Whale and started the engine. "I'll let 'er warm up for a minute and we should have us a perfect shower." A few minutes later, Carl turned the shower on, and clear warm water sprayed out. He smiled from ear to ear. "Emma? This should prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're married to a certified genius."

Carl folded his meaty arms and stood back, looking at his handiwork with undeniable pride, then bit off a huge chunk of Red Man chewing tobacco.

Emma studied the massive tanks on The Whale with a worried look on her face. "Carl, aren't those tanks a bit heavy to be up there?"

"Pffooowh shuussuh gvwhat thererrip dhoop zaatth ..."

"Carl! I do wish you'd stop trying to talk when you jam that giant bunch of chew in your mouth."

Looking rather sheepish, Carl chewed briskly for a minute, then transferred the wad to one cheek, looking much like a squirrel that had a baseball stuck in its mouth in the process.

"Sorry 'bout that. Anyways, not too worry. Those tanks only weigh about a hunnert pounds each and the metal strap that's holdin' 'em in place is real strong stuff. Now why don't you start putting the camping stuff away whilst I fill up the water tanks with all this nice clean free water from the stream right here?"

Emma got busy folding all sort of camping equipment up, while Carl ran a long green garden hose over to the stream and hooked up a small pump.

About an hour later, The Whale was fully loaded and lumbering slowly down the dirt road heading to the highway. The turn on to the highway was a basic, bumpy off-camber right hander. Normally, it would have been no problem at all, but Carl never took into account the laws of physics.

You see, water weighs 8.2 pounds per gallon. With 120 gallons of water in those three tanks, that came to 984 pounds, not to mention the 300 pounds plus weight of the tanks and maybe another 30 pounds of attaching hardware.

That made about 1300 pounds of weight, high up on the top of The Whale. And when Carl cranked the steering wheel hard to the right and tried to clamber up and over the 14 inch lip of the paved road, the huge Suburban let out a groan as the chassis twisted.

A moment later, the inner wheels lifted and The Whale hung in the air. Emma let out a squeak and Carl cursed loudly, then The Whale flopped over on its side with a sickening thud!

Carl and Emma clambered out of the passenger door, hearts pounding and eyes wide. While Carl ran around The Whale in circles, jabbering and swearing loudly, Emma opened up her purse and got her small camera out.

Carl stopped and stared at her. "What in the plu-perfect blazes do you think you're doing, woman?"

"What else? I'm going to take a photo for Worst Stuck!"

As Emma busily clicked away, Carl strode off down the road toward the gas station, leaving the air almost blue with profanity.

 

[superbuickguy]

moving forward

fixedededed

eventually this gets a snorkel, but for now it gets a heat shield

next up is back to this

 

[superbuickguy]

Onward, roof rack

the whole purpose is to mount the awning....

crowded shop, friend and his daughter were working on his Jeep.... only legs because, well, can't let anyone know I let a Jeep into my shop or she's studying to be a secret agent (hush, hush).....

 

[superbuickguy]

Soooo, was going to take this to the dog n pony show but alas, stopping

I went to adjust and it was at the limits - suspect the drums are toast, have 'spares' but we'll see.... likely not taking this
funny thing, I ordered these on speed (next day) but didn't order the seals on speed (tomorrow).... whoops

 

[superbuickguy]

mood music for rear brakes

 

[superbuickguy]

OFF-ROAD APRIL 1994 THE WANDERERS # 63

HEADLINE: THE WANDERERS
SUBHEAD: PHONE SICKS
BYLINE: BY RICK SIEMAN

FORWARD: Carl and Emma live the good life. Carl, a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer, drives a huge 4WD Suburban all over the country to explore off-roading areas. The Suburban, nicknamed The Whale, is loaded to the max with every goody known to man. Emma, a very patient lady, tries to keep the short-fused Carl out of as much trouble as possible.
***
When we last left Carl and Emma, The Whale was on its side because of an over-sized and under-engineered portable shower system Carl had built. After getting things right-side up, Carl noticed that there was no sheet metal damage, as The Whale had flopped in soft sand.
After draining out the bogus shower system, Carl drove into a nearby town to relax for a while and to order their mail sent to them. Carl and Emma had a P.O. Box for receiving mail, and every once in a while, they'd spend a few days at a motel, have the mail sent to them, and catch up on the outside world.
While Carl rubbed out the scratches in the paint and got rid of the shower system, Emma relaxed and caught up on her reading and TV soap operas.
When the mail arrived, Carl thumbed through it, discarding most of the typical junk. Then he let out a loud yelp! "Emma! Lookit this! We just missed out on winning this $6 million dollar prize from Ed MacMahon at the Publishers Clearing House. All because we didn't mail our entry form back in time. Ain't that enough to make you sick?"
Emma studied the wad of paper and sheets of stamps carefully. "Well, I'm not so sure we really won, dear. It says that we COULD have been one of the big prize winners. Actually, it's a little bit vague."
Carl grunted. "I'm not so sure. Take a look at this letter. There was us and six other people who didn't respond, and we all missed out. Man, it makes me sick. Emma, there's gotta be some way we can keep in touch with civilization in case of real emergencies like this. Maybe we ought to get one of those cellophane phones?"
Emma looked puzzled for a moment, then brightened. "Oh, you mean "cellular" phones!"
"That's what I said, woman. You ought to pay closer attention when I talk. Anyways, the way I understand it, you can carry one of these phones in your pocket. If we get one, we could have the message center call us if there's something important for us ... like this thing from Ed. After lunch, why don't we head into town and check out the prices on those things?"
Carl stopped by Electronic Blitz City, and picked up a pocket-sized cellular phone that was on sale. The salesman explained how to use it and hooked him up to the service right from the store.
On the way back to the Motel, Carl made a few experimental phone calls:
"Hullo, Uncle Fred? Well, this here's Carl, and guess what? I'm talking to you on the telephone!"
Uncle Fred seemed un-impressed. "So what, you big dummy. I'm talking to you on a phone, too. It ain't like it was just invented, ya know. Now make it quick; Bowling For Dollars is on the TV and I want to see if Jamie Farr picks up a 7 - 10 split."
"No, Uncle Fred. I mean I'm talking to you from the front seat of my Suburban. I got me one of those new cellulite phones."
"You mean "cellular" phones, fat boy. And you dragged me away from the TV just to tell me that? You must have been banging your head on the roof of your truck from too much of that off-road driving. Goodbye, and don't call me unless you got something important."
Not discouraged, Carl dialed another number:
"Hullo, Marvin? This here's Fred. How's the weather there in Sarasota?"
Carl turned to Emma. "Marvin and I were in the Navy together. We chased around and ... I mean, we did a lot of fishin' together."
Emma scowled and pulled the plug from the phone out of the cigarette lighter socket. "Quit wasting good money on your rowdy old friends. If you want to go fishing, well, let's go then. That's all you've been talking about lately, anyways."
Carl brightened. "You're right! We can go do some fishing, and I can still stay in touch with the world with this here celluloid phone. There's no way I'm gonna miss out on one more Sweepstakes Prize!" ***
Carl found a neat little spot where they could camp and fish. It was next to a small lake, and the locals told him that there were plenty of small-mouth bass, lunker crappies, and scrappy blue-gills. Emma really liked the idea of blue-gills, and would go after them with ultra-light one pound line on her rod, and normally would lose nine out of ten hook-ups. Even when she caught one, she'd release it quickly, much to Carl's disgust.
After pitching camp and ingesting a light snack, they got out the fishing tackle and headed for a likely spot. Carl put a night-crawler on the hook for Emma, then got out one of his favorite lures, a Doctor Wizard Hook-O-Rama Wriggling Hula-Dancer Bass-O-Matic Special, and made a long cast out next to a half submerged tree.
Carl felt a nibble on his line and tensed. He wrapped one stubby finger over the line to get a better feel, and poised, ready to yank on the rod ... when the cellular phone in his pocket rang.
It startled him so much that he almost fell into the lake. Carl flipped the ON button. "Hullo?"
The voice on the other end started talking rapidly. "Is this the Market Street Pharmacy? Well, I want to re-new my prescription and my doctor is out of town for the weekend, so can you ...?"
"Hey, lady. This ain't the pharmacy. This here's Carl and you got a wrong number."
Click.
Carl reeled in and cast out again, about three feet to the left of his last toss. Once again, there was immediate activity on the line. Carl poised, ready to nail a big one and ... the phone rang again!
"Hullo."
"Pharmacy? This is Mrs. Watkins and I want to re-new my prescription. I got some moron on the first call and ..."
"Look, lady. This ain't the pharmacy. Would you mind taking the paper bag off your head the next time you dial. I'm in the middle of fishing, and you're not making it any easier."
Click.
Carl flipped his lure out once again, and this time, got a solid bite. He immediately pulled back on the rod and got some tension on the line and ... the phone rang once again!
Carl reached for the pocket phone, letting the line go slack for just a moment, and a lunker bass leapt out of the water, shook his head wildly, and spit the lure out, then disappeared into the greenish water with a loud splash.
"Hullo?"
"Pharmacy? My stomach has been acting up and I absolutely have to re-new my prescription, but I keep getting some idiot on the line and ..."
"Listen, lady. This is the idiot ... I mean Carl, on the line, and I wish you'd get your act together and quit bothering me. I ain't a pharmacy. I am a fisherman. A fisherman who just lost what looked like a three-pounder, if it was an ounce. So I'd appreciate it if you'd take your finger out of your nose - or wherever else it's been - and try to dial the right number."
Click.
With a sigh, Carl cast out again, hoping that the bass would make another pass at the lure. There was no action by the tree, so Carl made a few more casts further out. Five minutes later, he felt a few bumps on his line and got ready and ... the #$^&*%$^*$#$#^* phone rang again!
"Hullo."
"Market Street Pharmacy? This is Mrs. Watkins. I'm a regular customer and I absolutely need a re-fill on an upset stomach prescription and ... "
"Mrs. Watkins?"
"Yes."
"Do you have a dog?"
"Yes, of course. A lovely little poodle name Muffins. Why do you ask?"
"Because this is Carl again, and if you interrupt my fishing one more time, I'm going to come over and filet your dumb poodle with a chain saw and use it for bait. Is that clear?"
Click.
Carl took a deep breath, dragged his line in, and tried a different lure. This time he tied on a Sub-terranian Frog-faced Spinning Minnow Split-tailed Blazing Screamer, and made a clean cast under an over-hanging tree.
Amazingly, the phone didn't ring for quite a while. Maybe ten minutes. Then just about the time the line started wiggling again, the phone rang.
Carl bit his lower lip with his upper teeth, thought for a moment, then answered the cellular phone: "Market Street Pharmacy. Can I help you?"
"Thank heavens I got through. I've been getting some ill-mannered lout on the line every other time I called. The phone company really ought to do something about that."