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| Come Hell or High Fruit Fly (continued)
August 22, part 2: Heh, heh, well you see, there was an error and they went on the weekly order instead. Despite my eagerness and disappointment, I can't come down too hard on the parts guys at the dealer. I've been in their shoes, and will go on record here as saying that most humanoids employed by franchise auto dealerships have a very heavy work load and a very puny salary. The guy knows I should react with Molotov cocktails, based on how folks usually react to these sort of errors. Instead, it seems kind of pointless to go into a huff; the parts will be here in a few more days anyway and, what the heck, it really isn't that important, is it? Not life or death stuff here...
August 25: Things are moving at a snail's pace -- a geriatric, rheumatoid-afflicted snail, bless its slimy little heart. I am feeling less charitable now than the preceding paragraph indicates, yet a whole lot more determined. Come Hell or High Fruit Fly, the power train lands in the 544 this weekend!!! The timing gear cover is still not back from the machine shop, but it is likely to appear tomorrow. (There is, after all, always tomorrow!). I should've called ipd weeks ago to see if they still handle them. The mainshaft of the gearbox is reassembled as of today. It went back together reasonably well and that scares me a great deal. Tomorrow, the whole mess goes back into the case. One moment of truth will occur when it is possible to spin the input shaft while going through the gears with the box on the bench. Another moment will be when the car moves forward under it's own power and, preferably, with no noise, thank you very much.
Another cosmetic procedure involves replacing worn or ugly rubber grommets that insulate the body from things like the wiring harness. I was unable to spend much time pursuing replacements in this area, but did have an idea: there are some grommets used where the tube-overriders for the bumpers pass into the body, and they look to be close in size to the one for the harness. This is the one right beneath the fuse box, by the way. I sliced the grommet and placed the cut facing the ground. It fits! Another small but desperately needed victory.
August 30: A couple of things to get sorted out. The seals for the water pump seem to be leaking. This confounds me a bit, as it is a genuine Volvo pump. The other thing is the oil all over the engine since, in my excitement, I ran and warmed up the engine without first changing the valve cover which I was using as a mask for painting. It did not have a valve cover gasket. Oops! Have shop rag -- will wipe! I did figure out the simplest way to make the HI-F carbs work on the 544 linkage. If anyone wants to know the details for this, please E-mail me; this story has already developed a life of its own and is now at least five times as long as I had envisioned. What's next? Still have the exhaust to have fabricated and some trim to put back on. There's a whole lot of wiring to hook back up. And the brakes... (oh, the brakes...)
September 3:
September 4: On the way home, things do feel a bit sloppy in the front end at speed, and there's this constant judder even when the pavement is smooth, which is not often in Michigan. Too aggressive off the line, and a groaning sound is heard which later reveals itself to be the front pipe banging into the frame horn. The clearance between the pipe and frame is less than a ½ inch owing to the dual down pipe. Engine mounts are new, but the small 544 ones. Maybe I'll try using ones from a 140 next, suspecting they might be a little more rigid and prevent torque-rocking from the drivetrain.
September 6: Michael and Martha live in a particularly scenic region of the state and so, after a tasty nosh, I suggest we and our spouses should drive our respective cars on an impromptu tour of the Leelanau region. This is the area perhaps most noteworthy to "outstaters" as the home of the Sleeping Bear dunes. It is also a very favorable place to grow grapes. We pass through towns like Glen Arbor and Empire, the host of the infamous Empire Hillclimb event which, I think, was hosted by the SCCA until some dolt wrapped his formula car around a tree. Maybe he wasn't a dolt; to be fair, I wasn't there. But that was the end of the event anyway. All around the region, the roads twist and bend up and down hill. All the while, magnificent scenery whizzes past. At one point, rolling past a beach, a stroller walks by and says "Old Volvo tour, eh?" As much fun as it is, I can't help but think the car could be a lot nicer to drive if it weren't for all the shakes and knocks from the front end.
September 7: At home in my garage, having removed the wheel, it's now possible to see that the right-hand upper trunion is also worn, as are the inboard bushings on the upper control arm. Have I mentioned the tie rods? Not shot, but not that good either. It's at least some consolation to see brake shoes which show very little wear. I am in no position, mentally or financially, to replace the king pins, but I do have a good right knuckle assembly from a spare front end which will suffice.
September 8:
September 9: The shock came off willingly, and it degrades from here. The cotter pins retaining the castelated nuts on the tie rods are not budging. The correct procedure, if there is one, would be to drill out the cotters. Unfortunately for the tie rods, the body work interferes with this possibility. The solution comes in the form of the Sawzall. It seems rather like carnage, but the tie rods are toasted to begin with, so the action happens with a reasonably clear conscience. The big stumbling block at this point is merely this: the left lower trunion bolt is immoveable. It seems to not have received much lubrication in the past thirty-two years. Heating the unit with a torch and trying to force some grease through, I am reminded of how this particular fitting has always seemed different during past greasing sessions: it never seemed to take much grease. I have soaked the fitting with an industrial-grade penetrant called Kroil. Tomorrow we shall see... Back on August 11th, I made the comment that the "walls were closing in" on me: I now sense that doors as well, are beginning to close. There are eight days left and, for each step forward of late on this project, it seems two steps back occur as well.
September 10: Looking back, if I was to start this whole project fresh, it might have been prudent to ask my doctor for a prescription for Prozac. I have been through so many highs and lows this time around that maybe something like this famous pharmaceutical would have been useful.
September 11: Obviously, this will not work. Six more days and a 123GT and a PV544 from Michigan are scheduled to depart for Wisconsin. Dave at Swedish Classics is asked to arrange a shipment to arrive in two more days. I should have done this days ago. A search in my garage coughs up a used set of upper wishbones with good inner bushings; they'll do for now.
September 12: After setting up the work in a vise, massive doses of heat are applied. "Stubborn" doesn't begin to describe it. A stuffy, windowless room with a bare light bulb doesn't break the witness: the bolt refuses to cooperate. A fifty mile round trip to home and back gets the dreaded Sawzall on the scene along with a spare used trunion and bolt. You guessed it. The troublesome piece is cut off and replaced. The old cut-up trunion and bolt is left on Jerry's vise with a note attached saying "Don't let this happen to YOU!!!" The left and right lower arms are attached to their respective knuckles and hauled home for a coat of POR-15.
September 13: Tomorrow is Monday, by the way, and you know, if this mess isn't reassembled by bedtime Tuesday night to meet the Wednesday morning appointment at the alignment shop, it probably will have to stay home while I sulk from the passenger seat of Mike's 123GT en route to Elkhart Lake. A really nice car to be sure, but not the real reason I've spent all of my spare time alternating from the garage to the PC, pounding out this story for this past month and a half. Funny thing: the front end is not together yet, and I find myself fretting because there is still some trim to attach and the seatbelts are still not back in. They may not be mandatory, owing to the car's age and, of course, when I was a bike-riding kid, there weren't helmets to wear either. I think I turned out OK in spite of it, it, it, it, it, it. (Please no nasty letters here folks! The other two folks who read this stuff on the Internet think that this is at least mildly amusing).
September 14: Fatigue has set in and it is time to quit before I overlook something. We're dealing with equipment that is not so complicated, but could cause great harm if an oversight occurs. Tomorrow night, everything must be done and the car must be on the ground again. Need to leave myself time to go over everything that has been done. A rush job, to whit, it will be more than a shame if something fails due to human error.
September 15: At 8:50 PM, the jack stands are removed and the car hits the ground running. The road test proves the desired results have been obtained -- so much so that I am tempted to skip the alignment appointment, but, no; we've come this far being as particular as was allowable. No point in skimping now. No shakes or rattles from the front suspension now!
 It seems anticlimactic to say too much more; indeed, what more need be said? Lets say you have followed the project, started too late for comfort, to what appears to be a successful completion. Along with the victories, however small, you have witnessed by word: the broken stud, errant parts orders, Stupid Gearbox Tricks, frozen trunnion (put mine on a sugar cone, please), biblical-sized swarms of fruit flies, the Traverse City Sawzall Massacre, and I don't know what all else! The feeling of accomplishment courses through my brain, and I am wondering when you are going to finally get around to doing something with that old Volvo you have laying around? While you think of a good comeback to that last question, I hope you'll excuse me:
Artwork by David Doyle ©1998
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Since I am, for various reasons, held up as far as doing any of the big work at this time, I've been using this time to do some cosmetic work in the engine room: working on removing twenty-plus-year-old overspray from the wiring harness covering. A very slow process, which (more or less) works, involves lacquer thinner on a shop rag, held on a spot for thirty seconds or so, and then subsequent rubbing. I've pondered the idea of removing the shrink-tubing from the harness altogether and replacing it, but have yet to locate a source for the stuff in bulk lengths.
Being all back together, and with the thought that the 544 would be transported to town tomorrow morning, I figured the time had come to get in a little test drive. About 10:00 PM, with tags in place, the old girl is idled down to the highway for a quick spurt on US 31. Deb stood out in the driveway, a quarter of a mile away. When I returned a few minutes later, she was able to tell me that southbound, I'd turned at Winters Road and, returning northbound, had overshot our road and did not turn around until the fruit stand a mile north of here. Driving on a Thrush muffler attached directly to the headpipe means one cannot exactly sneak around. In the morning, Ken from Ken's Frame Shop will show up with his flatbed and haul the car to Traverse City for a real exhaust system.