<![CDATA[Webfoot Inspections

<![CDATA[Webfoot Inspections - Blog]]>Fri, 04 Nov 2022 23:20:07 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Knowing When It's Time To Say Goodbye: Episode 2]]>Sun, 08 Feb 2015 00:47:35 GMThttps://www.webfootinspections.com/blog/knowing-when-its-time-to-say-goodbye-episode-2

When we last left our intrepid Chevelle it was motoring merrily along the highway. On one afternoon drive it started overheating and got progressively worse. When it started missing and resembling a steam calliope playing Bach’s Toccata in Fugue (that means it was really hot!) he pulled into a gas station and let it cool down. The mechanic on duty tested for combustion gasses in the cooling system and verified that something was blown. It got towed back to my shop.

After running a compression check and verifying 2 bad cylinders I pulled off the left head and, sure enough, it had a blown head gasket between #5 and #7 (the rear two) and was starting to blow between #3 and #5. Closer inspection revealed that #7 (which is the one that had been sleeved during an earlier overhaul) had partially collapsed and was impinging on the crown of the piston at TDC. The engine had to come out and get torn down completely.

To cut to the chase; the pins that had been installed along the crack between the Time-Serted head bolt and the sleeve in #7 were the perpetrators. The pins started by overlapping into the Time-Sert and ended by overlapping into the outer edge of the sleeve. The torque from the head bolt deformed the Time-Sert along the path of least resistance (the pins) and forced the last pin to push in on the sleeve, effectively wiping out the.010”-.015” clearance at the crown of the piston. Pushing on the sleeve also opened up a direct path into the water jacket. The heat from the tight piston created a hot spot in the gasket, which disintegrated, allowing the coolant to become superheated by the combustion gasses. And so on and so on… If the last pin had ended a ¼“ before the sleeve it probably wouldn’t have happened. Since the original crack went all the way to the sleeve the last pin had to go into the sleeve.

It was time to say goodbye, adios, sayonara, aloha, auf wiedersehen, au revoir, arrivederci, nice knowin’ ya and buh-bye to the block. PER acknowledged that they should have just said, “No way, Jose¢” to the block repairs, but nonetheless said they’d credit the cost of all the block repairs towards a replacement block and graciously volunteered to give me cost on non-warranty new parts and required labor to rebuild the next engine. The heads, crank, rods, cam and chain could all be used again, but new pistons, rings and bearings would have to be part of the rebuild program.

To bring this little tale to closure: On “Craig’s List” I found a solid “correct numbers” block for $2000 (believe it or not, that’s a fair price these days), all the machining was done, it was assembled, I installed it, it ran perfectly, it goes down the road very quickly.

One of the reasons used parts fail is due to a phenomenon called “duty cycle” (and it has nothing to do with firewatch schedules at a swap meet). Duty cycle refers to how many oscillations, vibrations, flexings, twists, up-and-downs, compressions and stretches any given part can go through before its molecular structure (material) starts to degrade or break down. I read once that leaf springs are good for a million oscillations. That sounds like a lot until you consider that every bump and dip in a road, no matter how small, is an oscillation or two. And while a spring is a very visual example, axles are harder to imagine. Rear axles not only support the load of the vehicle but also put up with twisting...both directions. The fronts are not only subjected to supporting the vehicle but also side loading from turning, and in the case of front wheel drive they’re also twisted. While a spring may show its fatigue in an obvious fashion (sagging), an axle will rarely show that it’s ready to fail. Usually their failures will start internally and to detect that properly they must be x-rayed. Having new rear axles made is not terribly expensive ($250-500 each), and can save a lot of grief.

I’ve had a couple of embarrassing axle failures. One was in my first car, a 1952 Willys Aero-Eagle. I was leaving a friend’s house and I gunned it a little (okay, a lot) to make an impressive getaway. There was a loud “BANG!”, the rear end of the car hopped up in the air a couple of feet and came crashing down, all askew. I looked out the passenger window and saw the right rear tire, brake drum and 2 inches of axle stub come rolling by as a unit and ultimately flop over against the curb 20 feet in front of me. Further inspection revealed that the axle had crystallized. This was in 1963, so the car was only 11 years old! What could cause it? Bad steel, bad tempering? You see, at my friend’s house I took it upon myself to perform a durability test and found it’s limits falling short of what I expected. But I still say it was a weak axle. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!.

The second failure involved my 1927 Franklin. This was the last year Franklin used a contracting band around a drum at the end of the transmission for the service brake. It was a horrible system even when perfect. One of the major design problems was that if a rear axle failed there would be no brakes because of the loss of the differential action in the rear end. A Franklin axle tapers down greatly just before the spider gear splines, making it a real weak spot. Don’t ask me how I know and how fortunate I am to still be here.

I found a new axle for the Willys and was able to flog it unmercifully for the rest of my sophomore year. The Franklin, however, had to settle for a replacement used axle, and I was leery (read very cautious) for the next 6 years until I sold it.

I believe that parts which have a high duty-cycle rate or are old and involve safety or reliability should be replaced…even when a non-stock replacement is the only option. We’re talking leaving you stranded on the side of the road at the very least, or risking yours and others’ lives, and ruining a perfectly good vehicle just for the sake of keeping something “original”.

One good example is ignition condensers. Never use an old one (NOS) when a new equivalent is available. Sure, I’ve had new ones fail right out of the box, although it’s very rare. A condenser is basically a thin sheet of tin foil rolled up with a layer of special thin paper or, in the earlier ones, wax paper sandwiched between the layers of tin. They can be very hardy, but It doesn’t take much for them to go bad. There isn’t a condenser for an old clunker that can’t be replaced with a brand new one. It might look different but there’s only a limited range of capacities required to make a system work and all are easily adaptable. Most condensers are hidden from view anyway. Why put your trust in some 60 year old part “with the correct date code” that can had brand new for $8?

One of my favorite stories (heard through the grapevine) is about a 1915, or so, Hudson that was completely refurbished and run in “The Great Race” back in the early 90s. About half way through the race it threw a rod and wiped out the block. The engine was built perfectly stock with nice original parts. The problem was that Hudsons of that era used tubular connecting rods which were notorious for coming apart. It wouldn’t have cost all that much to have a new set of contemporary, stronger rods made up….but, nooooo, this guy had to be a purist, even with a highly stressed part that no one would ever see. Well, he got his wish: He now has a perfect example of a pure stock Hudson engineering flaw to show his friends.

A friend has a 1932 Lincoln. The original, extremely rare, one year only carburetor was wheezed out. It wasn’t all that great a design when new and wasn’t worth rebuilding. Well, the car now sports a new, modern 2 barrel Holley and runs flawlessly. All it took was making a simple adapter. Nothing original was really changed or altered and it can be returned to poorly running stock form at any time. A purist would blanche, but my friend doesn’t care

It is my philosophy that it’s nice to have a few pure stock examples of all the various models of cars for posterity. It’s fine that they are in museums or are trailer queens. However, most of us mere mortals enjoy driving these old beaters and it’s just not practical or economically feasible to subject ourselves to inconvenient, safe, and other unnecessary failures. I’m not advocating turning them all into hot rods, but just to use some critical 70 year old part simply because it has the “original 3 dots and a triangle cast into it with the proper sequence of foundry numbers” (who really cares?). Not only is it not prudent, but it’s also one of the reasons this game we play is so expensive…however, that’s fodder for another article. The beauty is that so many things can be modernized without permanently altering the original car or disturbing its “essence”. In many cases the car will run better than new. That’s not a bad thing, is it?

The bottom line is: Know when to say goodbye. Take that old original part and put it on the wall. Start your own little museum of old, original parts. Put new replacement parts on your car whenever you can. Remember: “Safety First.”

]]><![CDATA[Knowing When It's Time To Say Goodbye]]>Wed, 03 Dec 2014 04:37:39 GMThttps://www.webfootinspections.com/blog/knowing-when-its-time-to-say-goodbye It happens to all of us sooner or later, when a part of one of the things that we love can no longer perform its intended function and even high tech science cannot save it. One of the toughest things in life is knowing when to say goodbye. This may apply to many things, but for the purposes of this article it refers to when a part for our beloved classic car has served its purpose and is just too wheezed-out to use anymore .

That’s right, folks; sometimes, even on our “they don’t build ‘em like they used to” cars, things wear out and can’t be fixed…at least safely or reliably. What do you do when that happens? What do you do if there aren’t any new or used parts left? Or, as my friend Don Ricardo used to say, “there aren’t any of those left in captivity”. Of course, he usually said that when he was holding one behind his back and was getting you primed for the old, “I was going to use it on one of my cars, but I guess I can part with it if you really need it” routine. That was usually followed by a drawn-out sigh that was shaped like a big dollar sign.

The problem is that many parts fail due to fatigue. They’re worn out, used up, tired, over the hill, wheezed out, and some were even just plain ol’ marginal to begin with. We’re not talking body or trim pieces, but mechanical parts: Engine, transmission, brakes, suspension, steering. You know, the things that nobody wants to put any money into because they “hardly ever drive the car” and they don’t sparkle. One thing to remember with old, worn-out parts is that what you replace them with is probably at least as old and may just be a few miles from failure as well. Even some NOS (New Old Stock) parts can be bad out of the box. We all, rightly, want to do whatever we can to save a part, but there are times when even heroic measures aren’t enough.

A good example of when heroic measures to save a part are in vain is an LS6 450 horsepower 454 Chevy engine I just finished overhauling. The customer had purchased a very nice 1970 Chevelle SS. With numbers matching LS6 engines these cars are bringing serious money nowadays. The engine had been rebuilt previously, but was starting to smoke and he wanted it overhauled. I pulled it down and took it to Portland Engine Rebuilders (PER). An LS6 is special because it has a forged steel crank, beefier connecting rods, a fairly radical hydraulic cam, domed pistons coupled with closed-chamber square-port heads that give a compression ratio of 11.25:1, and a dual-plane low-rise aluminum intake manifold with a 750 Holley 4-barrel. A most formidable engine that will definitely pull the hat off your head when you lean on the loud pedal.

A brief explanation of what “Numbers Matching” means:

Most engines, transmissions, differentials and their major components have all sorts of numbers cast or stamped into them. These numbers can include an actual part number, a VIN number matched with the car, a foundry time clock signifying what shift poured the casting, an application number that usually identified the plant it was built at and what car/transmission combination it was intended for, and a date code which tells exactly what month/day/year the part was cast on. Having all those numbers jibe is what makes a “numbers matching car”. Heads, blocks and other components should all have date codes that are within a couple of months of each other (they do a batch of castings and they sit awhile until they’re machined and used) and always before the build date of the car. Numbers matching is as good as “Provenance”, and greatly boosts the value of a vehicle. It’s all part of the “Authenticity Game” that drives the cost of a restoration through the roof.

But I digress.

PER knew this was all numbers matching hardware and reworked the heads (big blocks Chevys are very hard on valve guides), turned the crank, and finish honed the cylinder walls. At that time we noticed that #7 cylinder had been sleeved and that a couple of head bolt holes were shaky. One of those holes was next to #7 and also had 3 cracks radiating about a half inch out from the hole. They Time-Serted those holes and pinned the cracks (a very common, very effective fix). PER was starting to express concern about the worthiness of the block, but I said we’d really like to keep it if we could. They forged ahead. We used a new cam because big-block Chevs are notoriously hard on cams. Since Chevy no longer makes a correct LS6 cam we opted for a Comp Cams brand LS6 comparable cam. We used the same pistons since they were still fairly fresh from the previous rebuild, and new bearings, rings, lifters, etc. I generally don’t do assemblies anymore on “routine” engines like Chevy or Ford V-8s. I prefer to build Packards and Buick straight 8s, and Franklins…engines that I haven’t done a couple of hundred of already. So I had PER do the assembly on this one. That way it’s on their warranty. During assembly they went to torque the head bolts (these have bolts going into the block, all into the water jacket) and one wouldn’t take the torque…the threads pulled. So they took that head back off, installed a Time-Sert in that hole, and reinspected the other holes. They went to torque it again and pulled the threads on another hole. This time they tore it down completely. They said the block was really junk, but, being it’s “numbers matching” (and correctly dated-coded bare blocks are $2000) the only way they’d guarantee the job is if all the head bolt holes were Time-Serted. With that done all the bolts took the torque and the job was finished.

I installed the engine and was heading into the home stretch when another problem arose. I inspected the (numbers matching) intake manifold and saw there were several hairline cracks throughout the passages. While it probably wouldn’t be truly critical on this car for occasional driving, it just wasn’t right. A quick search of e-bay and other marketplaces revealed that these manifolds go for $500+, and that wasn’t for very attractive, unmolested ones. I don’t like glass-beaded aluminum engine parts when the part is supposed to be natural and exposed. The blasting takes away a natural surface “skin” and makes the aluminum very porous, which allows it to get dirty and stained very easily from then on. Ceramic coating perfect, used and even new aluminum parts in dull silver seals the surface and makes it easy to clean, but since our manifold had cracks and the ones for sale looked shaky, we bit the bullet and put on a new high-rise Edelbrock manifold. The original carb had already been replaced with a much later, similar Holley (correct # carbs can go for $1000+). So, the fuel system had its numbers compromised. But nothing was modified, so everything could be made stock again without any problem.

The engine fired right up, ran strong and went merrily down the road. HOWEVER, the fickle finger of fate would take a poke at the engine a few months later, reminding us of the original intent of this article: “Knowing when it’s time to say goodbye.”

What happened, how it was cured, more examples of when good parts go bad, and how to avoid it will appear in the next installment. Don’t miss a single exciting episode.

]]><![CDATA[Is It A Classic Or Just An Old Kelvinator]]>Wed, 29 Oct 2014 04:03:17 GMThttps://www.webfootinspections.com/blog/is-it-a-classic-or-just-an-old-kelvinator A couple of ads caught my eye the other day while reading the classifieds. One stated: "For Sale, 1950 Nash Ambassador, low miles, one owner, extra clean, a real classic, $8,000." The other read: "1938 Buick Series 80 Sedan, runs, some rust, needs total restoration, $8,000." The old Nash, obviously a "cream puff," is the same price as the older Buick which needs everything. The Nash is called a classic while the Buick doesn't make that claim. Which, if either, is really a "true" classic?

According to Webster "classic" is defined: "Of recognized value, serving as a standard of excellence; traditional, enduring; of historical value, historically memorable." The Buick probably fits that definition, but does the Nash meet any of the criteria?

A little history would be useful in clarifying the definition. After World War II America was riding high on it's victories and Detroit was back producing cars after having been called into service to make military vehicles for the war effort. Most of the early post-war cars were merely updated versions of what they had been producing at the outbreak of the war, and the plants were working overtime just to satisfy the voracious appetite of a car-starved populace. Any car made before World War II was just an old car, with those that had escaped the crusher during the war being relegated to the back of used car dealers' lots going for giveaway prices, or left to the uncertain fate of nature in back yards, fields or barns. By the early fifties, Detroit had finally modernized all their lines and everyone wanted one of the new, larger models with automatic transmissions, powerful V-8 engines, power steering, acres of chrome...and FINS! Americans' embrace of both the jet age and the "good life" was strongly reflected in their cars. The past and the depression were things to be discarded and forgotten.

The face of the American highway had changed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find parts, particularly tires (except for big, ol' truck tires), for the older cars and as a result there were fewer and fewer of them on the road. There were a few people who, for reasons of nostalgia, historical responsibility or foresight, wanted to resurrect some of the old buggies; to try and restore them to their former glory. The few cars that parts were available for were the first and most likely candidates. As an example, Ford's Model A, built from 1928-1931, became popular again. Almost five million A's were manufactured in this country, creating a large after-market parts source. Because of that, and thanks to sources like the old J. C. Whitney catalogs, there was a plethora of cheap parts available, making restorations easy. Model A (and Horseless Carriage) clubs sprang up all around the country, holding tours and picnics, and driving them in parades. Eventually the picnics turned into car shows, with prizes being given to the best restored car, and the most authentic period costumes worn by the participants. This early competition led, of course, to better restorations. Other makes of cars were invited to attend and compete. More clubs came into being and the old car hobby and restoration market was born.

People were starting to dig around in the back yards, fields and barns to find the old, forgotten relics that were part of their youth. Throughout the sixties and early seventies you could find a Model A, which sold new for $375, for $50-$100, or a 1934 Packard, which sold new for around $4,000, for $600-$2,000. Today, in restored, show condition, and depending on whether it's a coupe, phaeton or roadster, a Model A will fetch between $6,000-$25,000 (depending on current market trends). The Packard, depending on engine and body combination, will reward it's owner with $50,000-$250,000 or more. The first acknowledged hunk of iron to go for over a million dollars was a prestigious Bugatti Royale which went for $8.5 million at Harrah's in 1985. With that sale the craftsmanship, inspiration and genius that had gone into so many of the world's fine automobiles was finally acknowledged and accepted as an art form as well as a worthwhile investment. The value of most cars started climbing, some into the stratosphere.

There are several factors involved in establishing a value for an old car; rarity, desirability, historical significance, market demand and cost of restoration. It was the last two, market demand and cost of restoration, that fueled the price escalations of the late 80s/early 90s, regardless of whether or not a car had achieved "true" classic status. Market demand increased due to the proliferation of well-established baby-boomers, now able to indulge themselves in the acquisition "at any price" of those items that brought back fond memories of their past. That explanation alone was the major reason people were paying $50,000+ for 1957 Chevy convertibles and 1957 Thunderbirds, and $125,000 for 1959 Cadillac Biarritz convertibles and 1970 Plymouth Hemi-Cuda convertibles.

When it comes to the cost of restoration, there are almost as many nuts and bolts holding together a 1950 Nash as a 1934 Packard (not really, I know, but I'm just trying to make a point!), theoretically making one just as expensive as the other to restore. You certainly could put just as much time and attention to detail in restoring both cars. In actuality (as we all know) the Packard is more expensive to restore because so much hand crafting is required ...just like when it was built originally. Some owners of Packards and other such cars also have a tendency to over-restore, making the car jewel-like, to be rarely driven, thereby (hopefully) insuring a high return on their art, or investment. The Packard is intrinsically worth much more because of it's rarity and uniqueness. But what ultimately determines an individual car's monetary value? Obviously whatever price the buyer and seller agree upon. But, does market value mean anything in determining whether or not a car is (or should be) a classic, or vice-versa? Although that question begs discussion, it ultimately, however, skirts the issue at hand and will be addressed in other articles.

To answer the original question of whether the Buick and/or the Nash are, indeed, classics, let's examine the criteria of the acknowledged, authoritative organization that defines the category, the Classic Car Club of America (CCCA). A classic is any "...fine or unusual, foreign or domestic motor car manufactured between 1925-1948, distinguished for fine design, high engineering standards and superior workmanship". Clearly, by that definition, the Bugatti and Packard are true, acknowledged classics, the Model A, Chevy, Thunderbird, ’59 Cadillac, and Plymouth are not. The Buick, being a series 80, is considered a classic by the CCCA. There are few exceptions to the parameters outlined by them.

Does that mean that the bathtub Nash is just an old car? Well, yes and no. To paraphrase an old axiom, "One person's old car is another person's classic." Among purists the CCCA definition is law. What the CCCA does not consider, however, is the generation gap. To the founders of the CCCA in the 50s, the cars of the 20s, 30s and 40s were the cars of their youth, their nostalgia.

While it is certainly true that the glorious "Golden Age" of the automobile, exemplifying a zenith of craftsmanship and tasteful design, was between 1925-1939, those cars are antiquities to the baby-boomers whose halcyon days were the fifties and sixties. The cars of their era may have been mass produced, and lack the fine hand crafted touch, but "Boomers" remember sitting in the back seat of the old family Hudson Hornet at the drive-in movie, barely able to see over the front seat, being scared out of their wits watching "Attack Of The Crab Monster", and laughing as dad played "spotlight tag" on the screen with the other cars during intermission. They probably sat on Dad's lap and steered for the first time in the family's 1957 Chevy station wagon going to Crater Lake during summer vacation. There are memories of their high school days, with the ink on their new driver's license not even dry, pleading with Uncle Jim to let them drive his new 1965 Sebring Red, fuel-injected, Corvette Sting Ray when he came over to show it off. Chances are, there are even fond memories of going to grandpa's house for Thanksgiving and seeing his shiny, maroon '50 Nash Ambassador with clear plastic seat covers installed on the "Sky-Lounge" seats that made into a bed, parked safely in a tidy garage. Those personal memories and dreams of each generation's youth define what is classic later in life, making the "historically memorable" portion of Mr. Webster's definition apply to that old, classic, bathtub Nash.

]]><![CDATA[Greetings and Salutations]]>Sun, 05 Oct 2014 01:26:25 GMThttps://www.webfootinspections.com/blog/greetings-and-salutations

First iteration

This is my first blog post on my first blog. Webfoot Inspections is a relatively new venture for me and I intend to use this as an arena for sharing my thoughts on the collector car hobby and market.

I have over 40 years of restorations, maintenance, and building classic cars and hot rods. I’ve decided to take that knowledge and put it to use helping people get the most bang for their buck when they decide to make the jump to buy a classic, collector car, or street rod. Buying one of these can be a very emotional experience, and many people tend to overlook or minimize problem areas of their potential dream car. That can cost thousands of dollars down the road. My goal is to arm them with knowledge that works to their advantage when it’s time to negotiate a deal with a seller.

I’ve always been a gearhead. Back in elementary school (Los Angeles in the ’50s) my uncle Alf, who was a line mechanic for Nash for 30-some odd years, got me the bug. I used to watch him change oil and do a tune-up on his ’53 Nash Statesman (with the 2-carb LeMans engine). He’d ask me to get a particular wrench or whatever for him, and that was my first introduction to tools. When I was about 11, my neighbor, Rick, who was five years older than me, had a ’55 MG TF. We’d crawl underneath and he’d point out all the different components and have me recite them back to him. It was a great education.

Pretty soon I started messing with my mom’s ’53 Packard or dad’s ’53 Mercury, cleaning spark plugs and changing oil. By then I had a subscription to Motor Trend and was memorizing all the specs for the new cars, typing them out and carrying the list in my wallet for quick reference. Encouraged by my dad, I started building my first vehicle when I was 13. It consisted of a ’41 Willys Americar chassis, including trans and rear end. I added a seat and a crude dashboard. Power came from a 2-cylinder Onan stationary generator (with a built-in in/out clutch) that I hooked up to the Willys trans via a coupler I had made. It was fun, and I kept out of trouble with it because it would only do about 20 mph driving up and down the street. Eventually, I felt the need for speed and latched onto a ’28 Chevy 4-banger engine and trans. That made me somewhat of a threat on my street because I could (theoretically) go much faster. Thankfully for the neighbors (and probably my hide), I didn’t get a carburetor problem worked out and it never went much more than 30 mph. Going 30 mph, however, was fast enough for me to gain a thorough understanding about the need for shock absorbers (vehicle dynamics) and why you don’t use kerosene to clean nasty, old grease off brake shoes. It was around this time that my dad and I went to our first classic car show, or Concours. This changed my life forever.

Second iteration

In this blog, I will be re-releasing articles that have been featured in various publications relating to the old car hobby. I will also be answering automotive and car culture questions, so if you have a topic you’d like to see addressed, please send me a note.

Learning about vehicle dynamics

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