The Wanderers build

[superbuickguy]

All I have to say about the PO with the copper/nickel line is he must be a VW guy.... a complete fucher.

see the line? it's the same one that took out the brake line... zip tied to the fuel injection line



unfortunately, it's not the worst thing he did but it's in the top 5. Wait until you see his wiring to the alternator - but we can fix it. Stronger, faster, smellier then ever before!

 

[superbuickguy]

So this is the vacuum line for the kick down to the transmission.... it had brake fluid coming out of it.... took me a bit to realize that there was a hole in it too


leaky line


to get the exhaust pipe out, I needed to push the axle down


and I verified that it was this line leaking... tomorrow parts, then fix


​

 

[superbuickguy]

CHRISTMAS IN ALASKA

BY RICK SIEMAN





Welcome to the good life of Carl and Emma. Carl, a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer, drives a huge four-wheel drive Suburban all over the country to explore off-roading areas. The Suburban, nick-named 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 them, they were extremely stuck in the mud bogs of Davis, West Virginia. We join them as they're driving across Texas, with no particular destination in mind.

***

"Well, dear ... whattaya say we head out to California and spend Christmas camping out in the middle of the desert where there's no stupid snow?" Carl expertly spat a wad of tobacco out of the window of The Whale and banked the plug off a yellow road sign, just a hair off dead center, at the same time adding yet another brown stain to the flank of the Suburban.
Emma fixed Carl with one of those stares that showed she meant business. "You know, Carl, there's one thing I've always wanted to do during Christmas time, and that's visit Santa's Village up in Alaska."
Carl chuckled. "Ain't you a little old to be believing in Sandy Claus, Emma? I found out about that bull before I started shavin'!"
Emma sniffed. "I'm not talking about kid stuff, Carl. There really is a tourist place you can go to. I saw it on one of those travel shows on the TV a few weeks ago. They actually make toys and things there that you can buy and there's a restaurant and a hotel. Just think how nice it would be to spend Christmas eve there, with all the elves and such, by a huge decorated tree!"
"Sounds like a waste of time to me. And who would want to spend Christmas eve surrounded by a bunch of midgets wearing pointy hats?"
Emma sighed. "Well, I surely would have enjoyed going there. It's like being a kid again. But it's just as well. Apparently the road that goes back into Santa's Village is a real bad one. It's supposed to be bad enough in good weather, but in the winter, they recommend that only highly experienced off-roaders with excellent equipment attempt the drive. Most folks just fly in."
A smile creased Carl's face. "Fly in, huh?" Must be a bunch of wimps up there in Alaska. Ain't much that can stop a 454 engine hooked up to 35-inch Mudder tires, now is there?"
"Now, Carl. Maybe it's not such good idea after all, What with that nasty old road ********** in the dead of winter. Guess my little dream will just have to be put on the back burners of the stove of life."
Carl stuffed a fresh clump of chewing tobacco in his mouth. "Well now, Emma, maybe old Carl here can answer those girlish dreams of yours. One way or another, I can get The Whale up any road, regardless of the weather. Only thing is, let's just spend one night there and get back into civilized country in time for me to catch the Super Bowl. I got good tickets on the 40-yard line."
Emma gave a secretive smile. "Oh, Carl. You're so brave and I know you won't get us stuck like you did in West Virginia and Delaware and Florida and Pennsylvania and upstate New York and North Carolina and ..."
"Put a lid on it, Emma. I get the message."

They rolled along at exactly two miles per hour over the speed limit, the mighty 454 barely working as it hauled the mass of The Whale down the ruler-straight empty Texas highway. The strains of Willie Nelson filled the interior of the plush Suburban, through sixteen speakers.

The sound of squealing tires had Emma digging her toes in the thick carpeting, and before her eyes were focused, Carl had the Suburban stopped on the shoulder and had leaped out of the drivers seat. He stood at the base of a road sign with both hands on his hips, and stared up at the sign in obvious awe.
Emma got out and joined him. "Carl, what's the matter? You look like you're in a state of shock?"
"Lookit this, Emma! It's a brand new sign with no bullet holes in it! They musta just put it up. I betcha I've driven through Texas a hunnert times and I've never seen a sign that wasn't full of bullet holes. Get your Instamatic out and take a photo of me next to this landmark."
"OK. And then what?"
"Then I get one of my guns out and put the first hole in it before somebody else beats me to it."
"Carl, when are you going to grow up? I swear!"
"Hey, I'm not the one who wants to go see Sandy Claus."

 

[superbuickguy]

***

Carl and Emma eventually reached California, and drove North along the coast, staying as always, two miles per hour over the speed limit. The Whale handled surprisingly well, considering that it had three gas tanks, two air conditioners, a TV satellite dish on the roof, a generator, two roll-up awnings, trail bikes hanging on each end and, of course, a boat lashed to the roof.

They passed through California and once again marveled at the heavy woods of Oregon, and the staggeringly beautiful landscapes. Washington also offered its own particular brand of visual treats, even though it rained most of time and was very cold, bordering on snow.

It did snow in Canada, but lightly, and not enough to build up on the roads. The highways got lonely and traffic was sparse as they drove through the mountainous areas of British Columbia toward the Yukon Territory. Highway 97, the famed Alaskan Highway, took them north past Kluane and Burwash Landing and shortly after, they crossed the border into Alaska. Even though it was cold, there was very little snow on the ground and they stayed comfy-cozy in the spacious cab of The Whale.

Here, they picked up Highway 2 - a great road - into the heart of Alaska and then swung north on Route 6. The terrain got meaner looking and the weather colder. Emma got out the brochure for Santa's Village and gave Carl the appropriate rights and lefts, until finally, near the northern part of Alaska, they ran out of paved road and saw the sign that ominously read, "Santa's Village, 41 Miles. Unpaved Road. Travel At Your Own Risk!"

The road was nastily, rutted, slick with frozen patches of ice, and studded with tire shredding rocks. Much to Carl's credit, he piloted the huge Suburban with skill and grace, and three hours later, arrived at the entrance to Santa's Village, one very tired off-roader.
Emma popped into the office and registered for their room, picking up a fistful of brochures and a half-dozen souvenirs in the process. She was bright-eyed and smiling. "Carl, we just have time to freshen up before the seven o'clock show."
Carl raised his eyes skyward and mumbled, "Whoopee."

***

The show was as bad as Carl thought it would be. The audience consisted of about 14 white-haired old women accompanied by bored-looking husbands. Little elves danced around the dinky stage to scratchy recorded music, while a fat guy in a Santa suit ho-ho-ed like an axe murderer. A ratty-looking reindeer was dragged out on the stage and promptly did a disgusting act of nature on Santa's foot. Carl could have sworn he heard Santa say some words he hadn't heard since his Navy days.
They had a toy making demonstration that was so stupid Carl simply could not believe it, and then some more elves danced around like chickens with no brains and then the fat guy yelled ho-ho-ho some more, and mercifully, the curtain came down.

Carl and Emma had a very bad meal in the restaurant and then retired for the night. Carl was very happy that they'd be leaving the next day and fell asleep quickly.

Morning brought bright light through the windows and Carl quickly showered and dressed, then headed out to check on The Whale before the long drive back. Or at least he tried to. The door of the hotel room would not open.
Frustrated, Carl got on the hotel phone. "Hey, what's the deal? My door won't work!"
A chuckle was heard coming from the other end of the line. "Oh, nothing is wrong with your door, sir. We just had a bit of a snowfall. You might look out your window. I'll hold."
Carl looked out the window and saw nothing but white. Then he stood on the bed and looked out the six-inch gap that was not covered by snow. He could see the top of The Whale, and just the top. Snow was everywhere. Many feet of snow. Piles and piles of snow.
Carl grabbed the phone. "Hey, I've got to get out of here. The Super Bowl is right around the corner!"
"Sorry, sir, but we'll be snowed in for a few weeks. It happens up here like that, sort of sudden like. However, you won't be bored, because the elves will be having toy making workshops and you can get involved. By the way, sir ... Merry Christmas and a hearty ho-ho-ho to you!"
A thumping sound aroused Emma from a very deep slumber, and as she opened one sleep-encrusted eye, she saw Carl banging his head against the wall.
Emma pulled the blankets over her head and quietly went back to sleep.

 

[superbuickguy]

laughing at the 'big' 35" tires.

still, maybe I can put a sat-dish on my 'b

 

[boll_rig]

Really liking how this is going to come together. I know its a long way out but what color are you thinking? Trying to visualize this thing ha. Loved the tan on the FJ

 

[superbuickguy]

I'm leaning towards doing shades of what it is now - I really don't want to go to the work of a color change - but we'll see... I think my current thought is silver. It will be a light color to help with solar heating (it does carry dogs so a/c and keeping it cool inside is important).... or I may repaint it but then change the roof to either a white or silver - it will be hard to see anyway because there will be a huge, platform rack and solar panels. Trucks on powerblock is doing a square body and going with just a different shade of blue with silver... it looks pretty sharp in the rendering....

in short, dunno.

 

[boll_rig]

The light color is so crucial. I wanted to match my charcoal body color for my topper but one day of it being mocked in black and I knew it had to be closer to white. went with Tan. Silver/grey was my second choice.

 

[superbuickguy]

I like light colors on offroad rigs because it's so much easier to keep clean-looking. White is a good color, but its problem is that if you wash it and don't do a good job - it looks worse then unwashed. That said, white doesn't look dirty for quite some time (my wife's Rubicon is white). My H3 is black.... it looks dirty the moment after it leaves a car wash...



no really, it's black

 

[superbuickguy]

THE WANDERERS #4






IN SEARCH OF THE WORLD'S BIGGEST RABBIT

By Rick Sieman





When we last left them, Carl and Emma had been snowed-in at Santa's Village in Alaska long enough to cause Carl to miss the Super Bowl game, which did not improve his disposition. We join them as The Whale lumbers south, away from Alaska, at exactly two miles per hour over the posted speed limit:

***

"It's enough to make a grown man toss his cookies right on the dash, Emma. Here's two 40-yard-line tickets to the Super Bowl and I never got a chance to use 'em. Cost me two hunnert bucks each; maybe I should frame them and hang 'em on the wall."
Carl rolled the window down and blasted a stream of tobacco juice out of the window, splattering a passing station wagon across two-thirds of the windshield and depositing yet another layer of stains on the side of The Whale.
Emma sighed and paused momentarily in her crocheting. "Carl, you haven't told me just where we're heading, and I do wish you'd be more careful when you spit out that window. That poor station wagon nearly went off the road when you covered his windshield."
"I'm not sure exactly where yet. Mostly, I just want to get as far away from snow and cold weather as I can without ending up in Peru or some other communist country. Texas was pretty warm when we passed through it; maybe we ought to head down there and find some dirt roads that ain't been explored before. Yeah, that's it ... Texas! The Lode Star State."
"You mean Lone Star, dear?"
"That's what I said. Anyway, why don't you try to get a good station on the radio ... and none of that modern crap like the Beatles or the Monkees. See if you can get some polkas or Benny Goodman."
"Emma fiddled with the elaborate radio. "You know Carl, I never could figure this radio out. It's got more controls on it than an airplane and it cost us more than a small car."
"Emma, that's a serious set-up. Nothin' but the best goes in The Whale. It's got 200 amps and twice as many volts, an eternal equalizer, AM-FM-PM, police, hospital and mortician bands, woofers, honkers and tweeters, Dolby and Molby, instant replay cassettes, a spastic filter, whiffledonks, multi-tuning forks, eight speed signal hunters and a half dozen red lights that flash on and off a lot. Can't get much better than that!"
Emma finally found a control that switched stations and started scanning:

…SCAN…
" ... soy beans are up and pork bellies are down, while wheat futures are swaying in the breeze ..."

…SCAN…
" ... you're going to burn forever if you don't send in your love offering right now, to P.O. Box ..."

…SCAN…
" ... and that concludes our 27 Golden Oldies hits in a row without a commercial break. Say, do you suffer from ... "

…SCAN…
" ... pork bellies are definitely up and soy beans are down, while wheat futures are holding steady ..."

…SCAN…
" ... legislative bill number 47 is complicated, but if you take the time to study it in depth, you can see that ..."

…SCAN…
" ... very few recordings of the Bulgarian Opera Company have been released in the last twenty years, but we stumbled on a six record set that should highlight the dulcet tones of Fundwar Ksonitski and ... "

…SCAN…
" ... wheat futures, according to the experts, are soaring, while both pork bellies and soy beans are plummeting ... "

…SCAN…
" ... looks like rabbit hunting season is in full swing in Texas, with great reports from ... "

"Hold it light there, Emma! We got us a real station. Now quit clicking those needles so loud, so's I can hear what's happening!"

" ... rabbits the size of Buicks are roaming the hills and hunters are heading home with full gunny sacks of the long-eared critters. And the center of the action appears to be Bonzo, Texas, home of the annual rabbit hunting tournament. So, if you're in the area, stop in and sign up. Who knows? You could be the winner of the $25,000 first place prize for the biggest rabbit. Jot this number down and ... "

The Whale screeched to a halt on the shoulder and Carl scribbled down the number, then whipped out a road map, followed some lines with a thick fore-finger and yelped, "Buckle up, Emma! We gotta make 1500 miles in the next two days!"

***

Texas. Wide, flat, lonely highways, miles with no houses, sparse traffic, bullet-riddled road signs, dead armadillos splattered on the scorching hot pavement and gnarly looking cattle nibbling on vegetation that would gag a house fly.
The Whale rumbled down the arrow straight empty road, substantially over the speed limit, the 454 cubic inch engine barely working up a sweat in the process.

Emma took over the wheel for a while, and Carl cleaned his guns in the back seat while Emma shuddered. Every once in a while, Carl would peer out the window at an imaginary rabbit, cock his finger and make bang-bang sounds with an evil grin on his face. "Gotcha, Bugs Bunny! Kapowie, right between the ears. Rabbit burgers coming up on the grill!"

***

They arrived in Bonzo, Texas, after a grueling drive. The town consisted of a Texaco gas station, one small diner, a hardware store and perhaps 200 houses loosely scattered around the main street. Carl stopped in at the station and tanked up, noting a poster for the rabbit hunting tournament posted next to a stack of dusty Yoohoo

 

[superbuickguy]

soda cases. Sign up was at seven in the morning at the barber shop and the tournament started sharply at nine.

That night, Carl hit the sheets early, while Emma watched five different wrestling shows until midnight on the satellite TV. Yes, The Whale was well equipped, indeed.
Dawn crept in, Texas-style, slowly at first, then blinking in full tilt in a matter of minutes. A huge number of hunters were still signing up, many of them in out-of-state trucks. Carl paid the entry fee, bought the required licenses and got a sheet of rules and information.
According to the rules, the hunters could use their four-wheel-drive vehicles to go anywhere, as long as they did not shoot from the vehicles, and stayed within the county boundaries. Shooting started at nine and ended at dark. All rabbits had to be in for weighing before eight o-clock and the heaviest rabbit got the $25,000 top prize. There were also other prizes to be announced later on for runners-up.

At 8:55, Carl locked the front hubs and made sure the shotguns were lashed down firmly in carriers. At nine on the button, he turned the key and fired up the mighty 454 and dropped it into 4H. All four tires churned and spun on the hard-baked Texas clay and The Whale headed off to the hunt.
Emma frowned. "Carl, are you really going to shoot one of those cute little bunnies?"
"You can bet on it, honey pot. There's gonna be fur a'flyin'!"
"Carl, if you shoot those innocent creatures. The Good Lord will punish you. It's not right!"
Carl just grinned and bounded over the bumpy fire road. The road got rougher, but the double shocks at each wheel soaked up the bumps nicely. When Carl got out of sight of all the other vehicles, he slowed down and concentrated on scanning the landscape. A half hour later, Carl saw a tell-tale set of ears perk up and a rabbit bounded away, darting from right to left. Carl leapt out of The Whale and started firing away like Rambo. Puffs of dirt hit to the right, then the left and behind the rabbit, before it disappeared from sight.
Emma squealed, "Did you kill it? Did you hurt the poor thing?"
Carl grunted. "Nope, the miserable rodent got away. Musta been a tail wind throwing off my aim. I'll get the next one, though."
Emma just set her lips tightly and knitted furiously.

During the next eight hours, Carl ran through 15 boxes of ammo and scared the living hell out of dozens of rabbits, but not one of them suffered so much as even a scratch.

As darkness neared, Carl sighed and gave up. "I just don't understand it. Must be the gun. Never shoulda bought a BlastMaster Mark II. Sights are way off."

The Whale pitched and rolled gently as they headed back to the registration area. Carl turned on 14 of his 22 roof lights and a blazing wave of luminescence lit up the landscape.
And there in the arc of the lights, stood the biggest, ugliest rabbit Carl had ever seen, transfixed, with eyes as wide as poker chips. As Carl was reaching for his gun, there was a loud "thunk" sound from under The Whale.
Carl scrambled out and moments later, poked his face in the cab, holding on to a pair of very long ears attached to a huge rabbit.
Emma let out a small gacking sound: "Killer! How could you?"
"C'mon, Emma. The dumb thing jumped right into the winch and got knocked senseless. I never even got a shot off. No matter. Looks like I got me a $25,000 rabbit here!"

When Carl pulled up to the registration area and carried the rabbit over, a hush fell over the gathered hunters. The rabbit was a monster! Carl beamed from ear to ear, like a certified idiot.
The judge put it on the scales. "Twenty one pounds even. Biggest one so far. Funny thing, though. I don't see any bullet holes."
Carl didn't even bat an eye. "Oh, that's the way I hunt 'em. I shoot for a rock next to the rabbit and the explosion of the rock stuns 'em dead. It's cleaner that way. 'Course, you got to have a good gun to do that. I use a BlastMaster II, one of the finest pieces money can buy."
The judge nodded. "Well then. If there are no further entries, it looks like we got ourselves a winner here?
"Hold on!" A voice came from the back of the crowd. "I just got in and got me a big one here." The hunter hoisted a giant rabbit up to the judge, who promptly weighed it, and in a deep voice, intoned: "Twenty-one pounds, six and a half ounces. It's now eight o'clock and I declare this here rabbit to be the winner. Sir, step forward and claim your $25,000 first prize money."
The hunter, a barrel-chested man with two wads of tobacco in his mouth, climbed up to the podium and accepted his check, amid heavy applause.
The judge held up a hand. "And now, in second place, with a twenty-one round rabbit, this gentleman here. Sir, come up and get your prize."
Carl wheezed and clambered up to the podium. "What do I get for second?"
The judge opened up the envelope and smiled. "You get a great prize, sir. Two expense-paid weeks vacation at Santa's Village in Alaska, including room and board. Congratulations!"
Emma didn't say a word, which at this point in time, was probably a very wise move.

 

[superbuickguy]

little bit done

every time I use this I'm reminded how much easier my other one works


the hole


so much easier


done (I think)


just need to bleed, make sure it doesn't leak, bolt back to the frame and go onto the next issue
​

 

[superbuickguy]

Well, the brakes work - onto the next issues
like how to drain coolant without a huge mess
drill a hole - not sure why they didn't replace the hose when they replaced the radiator (with the wrong one)... but it was leaking so it had to be fixed


the PO was a wiring god - a puny god, but a wiring god....


at some point he replaced the relay, but left the old relay in place and let it dangle. I swear it had to have been harder to do what he did then do it right (this will be a recurring theme)


next up



I also ordered lift springs for it both front and rear - I really wasn't going to lift it, but by the time I ordered all new bushings, new shocks and rearched the sagging springs.... I'd be at more money then buying newer, better, softer-riding shocks with poly bushings.... that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

 

[superbuickguy]

Nothing bores me and annoys me more then wiring. Which is why I struggle to even do updates during this - HOWEVER, I think this time there might be things which need enlightening - so, in the interest of advancing knowledge, I persist.

It's always a bit of archaeology to try to figure out why... in this case, why did they run half a light cord from the alternator to the battery? it does explain the jumper cables.... but why?

why didn't they attach the signals to the grill?

why did they put ANOTHER relay when all they had to do was put 12v to the pink wire?


First explanation. The GM controller is a relay. It has a sensor in the coolant that opens at 152*, it fails in the open position (thus not burning the glow plugs down and causing catastrophic failure of the motor when the plugs melt then the glow plug wires catches on fire and burns the vehicle down)
Originally, GM had a sensor/controller on the 5.7 then the 6.2 (shared parts, there are few but that was one). That gem/jewel was one-piece and would fail then cost 175 to replace. In 1985 GM finally heard the whining and came up with this controller. It has a separate sensor and what you see (the blueish bit on the motor) is mostly a large relay. It's also easy to bypass - though likely it's simply the sensor that failed... still $100 to replace, but not so bad as before - even if one does replace it. Put a momentary switch in the cab just in case... and send power to the larger of the pink wires.


hey look, less color

much better

the pile is growing

​
next issue is these wires. the white one is for the tach (which they destroyed when they replaced the motor), the two coated wires are amazingly thick, but ulimately 20 gauge wires for the dual fans. I don't like electric fans, I think they create radio noise, draw tremendous amounts of power, and don't cool as well as an engine driven fan.... after all, an engine is whatever the hp is of the motor (180 hp in this case). The dual fans are may 2 hp. 2 hp is not as powerful as 185 hp. Granted, clutch fans fail and do so at the worst time - but I'd rather run a screw through a clutch fan to make it a direct fan before I'd ever put an electric fan on. With that said, having electric as backup is a great idea on a 4x4. In this case, they put it on the wrong side and I'm simply too lazy to change it.... so that will be fixed, but in a far better manner then a relay wired with house twist ties.

Wiper motor..... I didn't know before tonight whether or not it was simply the wiring or the motor was junk. I suspected the motor was junk because they had an aftermarket controller on it. Turn the wipers to high, then adjust the knob to get delay or low wipers.... I can't imagine the controller cost less the $25.00 and a new, rebuilt wiper motor is $55. Not sure why, so I suspect that I'll be replacing the control board too ($64) .... but one step at a time,


soldered the wires together and shrink wrapped it...

fixed


more puzzling - why did they strip 2" off the fuel pump shutoff?


ah well, liquid coating was made for these issues

Cruise control
I found this laying in the back of the motor


for whatever reason they felt an arrow shaft was the appropriate vacuum block-off rather then having cruise control. There will be more on this later, when I get the accumulator and check valve - but I will fix it. Cruise makes long-distance driving a much more enjoyable endeavor....

 

[chilliwak]

Looks like you have done a lot of work cleaning up wiring and other issues Mr Buick. Its allways a big job taking care of aftermarket wiring done by guys that in some cases dont know what they are doing. Nice work. Thanks for posting pics and giving us a description of your progress. Cheers, Chilli..