As I've said before in other threads, for the last three years I've had pretty serious back trouble, and a few months ago, after physical therapy, chiropractic therapy, pool therapy, ....electrocution therapy...I was given a physical profile and was told to curtail heavy physical activity entirely. And my doctor, knowing me, put in an added stipulation: NO WORKING ON CARS.
Well, hell.
Now, for the last six or so months, I've behaved rather well. I only did a rear U-joint, which on the physical-labor scale is relatively low. But, especially in the last week or so, the urge to do something, anything has overridden common sense.
The breaking point came this last weekend. My stepdad has a friend he knows from work who has a buisness on the side playing with some serious high-end cars (for his sake I will not reveal name, town, or other employment.) He agreed to run full exhaust on my Mirada, with Flowmasters, for $500. Since I do not want to play with another stock Mopar exhaust so shall I live, and it means HE will be doing it, not ME, I agreed to it. My stepdad apparently forgot that I own the Monte Carlo, too, because he suggested that I take his '68 C-10 home with me for the week that "the guy" will have my car. Ok, why not? If nothing else, I love the reactions I get when I bring yet another car into work. It's a nasty little beast, an original disc-brake truck, stepside, packing my stepdad's typical screamer SBC pattern motor (I give up asking what it is anymore...could be a 327, could be a 350, could be a bastard like the Chevelle's 315 stroker..). We settle details and agree that I drop the car off close to the weekend.
Friday, I leave the Mirada at "the guy's" place, with a $100 deposit for the mufflers, and ride back with stepdad to get the truck. As I'm letting it warm up (hmm...this thing's kinda loud...) I get the laundry list of what does not work:
Taillights are on, brake lights don't show when lights are on.
Turn signals are sketchy at best.
No floor in bed. No weight over axle. Hot motor. Not good.
Did I mention that this sonovabitch is loud??
Ok, get in truck, take off for base. I'm being very easy on it...I've driven quieter, unmuffled cars...and I'm doing good up until I get to the HWY 167 onramp to head south. Picture: there is a left-turn lane for the onramp, and about 100 yards ahead of that is a four-way stoplight. Also, for good measure, there is a State Patrolman writing some guy a ticket, facing east, on the side of the road right next to the turn lane. I'm sweating bullets. Figure I'll barely be on gas until halfway up the ramp, I'll toe-in a little harder at the end, all will be well. I start to turn, a Subaru blows the red light. Shit. Self-survival reaction, I bury the throttle to get out of the way. Ass end breaks loose, tire smoke everywhere. Truck walks up the onramp sideways, screaming like a banshee. The last time I looked at the cop he had dropped his tablet. He didn't get the chance to come catch me.
Part of the agreement for taking the truck is that I do some minor upkeep on it. My stepdad gave me $100 to get parts. Small list, really:
New wipers, fuel filter, mufflers
Get gauge lights to work
Get fuel gauge to work
Mount new LED taillights
Today's topic: Mufflers. Bought two Flowtech Raptors for about $50, got home about noon, started tearing into truck. Completed task about 8:30pm. Involved in the process: a Dremel with a cutter head, an old flathead screwdriver, the broad end of a 1" wrench as a hammer. I'm not sure I'd be done if there was a bed floor in this thing. Ended up chiseling off the old mufflers. Lots of swearing.
If I can locate my battery recharger I'll get pics up. My back is killing me. Sea salt bath at boiling temperature, here I come.
Well, hell.
Now, for the last six or so months, I've behaved rather well. I only did a rear U-joint, which on the physical-labor scale is relatively low. But, especially in the last week or so, the urge to do something, anything has overridden common sense.
The breaking point came this last weekend. My stepdad has a friend he knows from work who has a buisness on the side playing with some serious high-end cars (for his sake I will not reveal name, town, or other employment.) He agreed to run full exhaust on my Mirada, with Flowmasters, for $500. Since I do not want to play with another stock Mopar exhaust so shall I live, and it means HE will be doing it, not ME, I agreed to it. My stepdad apparently forgot that I own the Monte Carlo, too, because he suggested that I take his '68 C-10 home with me for the week that "the guy" will have my car. Ok, why not? If nothing else, I love the reactions I get when I bring yet another car into work. It's a nasty little beast, an original disc-brake truck, stepside, packing my stepdad's typical screamer SBC pattern motor (I give up asking what it is anymore...could be a 327, could be a 350, could be a bastard like the Chevelle's 315 stroker..). We settle details and agree that I drop the car off close to the weekend.
Friday, I leave the Mirada at "the guy's" place, with a $100 deposit for the mufflers, and ride back with stepdad to get the truck. As I'm letting it warm up (hmm...this thing's kinda loud...) I get the laundry list of what does not work:
Taillights are on, brake lights don't show when lights are on.
Turn signals are sketchy at best.
No floor in bed. No weight over axle. Hot motor. Not good.
Did I mention that this sonovabitch is loud??
Ok, get in truck, take off for base. I'm being very easy on it...I've driven quieter, unmuffled cars...and I'm doing good up until I get to the HWY 167 onramp to head south. Picture: there is a left-turn lane for the onramp, and about 100 yards ahead of that is a four-way stoplight. Also, for good measure, there is a State Patrolman writing some guy a ticket, facing east, on the side of the road right next to the turn lane. I'm sweating bullets. Figure I'll barely be on gas until halfway up the ramp, I'll toe-in a little harder at the end, all will be well. I start to turn, a Subaru blows the red light. Shit. Self-survival reaction, I bury the throttle to get out of the way. Ass end breaks loose, tire smoke everywhere. Truck walks up the onramp sideways, screaming like a banshee. The last time I looked at the cop he had dropped his tablet. He didn't get the chance to come catch me.
Part of the agreement for taking the truck is that I do some minor upkeep on it. My stepdad gave me $100 to get parts. Small list, really:
New wipers, fuel filter, mufflers
Get gauge lights to work
Get fuel gauge to work
Mount new LED taillights
Today's topic: Mufflers. Bought two Flowtech Raptors for about $50, got home about noon, started tearing into truck. Completed task about 8:30pm. Involved in the process: a Dremel with a cutter head, an old flathead screwdriver, the broad end of a 1" wrench as a hammer. I'm not sure I'd be done if there was a bed floor in this thing. Ended up chiseling off the old mufflers. Lots of swearing.
If I can locate my battery recharger I'll get pics up. My back is killing me. Sea salt bath at boiling temperature, here I come.
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