The last time I saw the 1977 Chevrolet Impala I used to own, it was early summer 1999. It was an interesting machine: basic two-door, 250ci inline six, basic black bench seat interior. Other than the Cragar mags I slapped on it, it was as rudimentary and as bare-bones as it got. I don’t remember why we got it as a keeper car…I think my stepdad was looking for six-cylinder fuel economy again on his commutes to and from work…but it became my car and as such, my problem. Unlike any car I’ve owned before or since, that Impala had a freaking procedure to fire off in cold weather, and if you didn’t follow the pattern to the letter, it would remain one big, silver lump, unmoved and uncaring in the least. It would just smell like a lot of raw gasoline and warmed electrical cable from the murder of the battery.
You started with the gas can. Grab the small one, and dribble a tiny stream down the throat of the carb. Not much, just enough to keep the engine wanting more as the pump moved the fuel a few yards from the tank to the engine bay. Crank a five-count, let off. Crank a five-count, let off. Crank a five-count, and if it coughed, you had hope. If not, reapply some fuel down the throat and repeat until it coughed. Once you had proof of fuel at the line, one pump, one-quarter and hold, and crank until you counted to ten or the engine sputtered into life. Once alive, no sudden movements of the throttle or be ready to flutter the pedal to keep the engine awake, and keep at it until you saw the temperature gauge move off of the stop and into some kind of territory. Be gentle with throttle until the engine was at normal operating temperature unless you wanted to stall the car, and you were set.
Terrible carburetor adjustments? An urgent need for an electrical fuel pump? Probably both. But in the age of fuel-injected, promised to fire engines, it’s easy to forget the skill needed to actually fire off a car in the cold. It was a freaking art form, one that’s faded out over time. Chances are if you are under thirty, you’re reading this and assuming that my Impala was an absolute pile. And chances are good that if you’re over forty, you know damn well what I’m talking about. Do you have memories of praying the engine to life in the bitter cold?
Coming of age in the late 60’s and living in mid Michigan, I am all to familiar with different starting procedures. I then went in the Army and almost everything was diesel. In the winter, every vehicle was issued cans of Ether. For this reason and a reliability issues every “driver” vehicle I have redone in the last 20 years has had fuel injection added.
My ’62 Chevy 283; pump one time and it should fire off then die. Crank again and you’re good to go. ’79 Olds 350 then the 455 that replaced it; half pump, start and die. Crank again and good to go. Pump either one of those more than once and you best be looking for alternate transport.
71 Maverick straight 6 needed to pull the manual choke I installed. Pump once , crank till it fires. Immediately push hand choke half way closed. Then wedge shortened wood handled snow scraper between dash and gas pedal for Fast Idle procedure. Once that is completed push choke 3/4 open and let idle for 5 minutes. Remove fast idle scraper and drive to work wishing you had enough money for a new heater core .
1980 GS 1000G mc – pull ‘choke’ ( enrichener circuit ) ALL the way out
hit the starter – do not touch throttle it would start
if you looked at the throttle until it warmed up it would die .
Used to ride to work until it snowed in the early 80’s north of Boston .
82 Caprice. Pump 2 or 3 times hit key. Hold gas for a little while then stall. Hit key again hold gas now on fast idle. Go inside 15 minutes have coffee. Go back out and go. Should of rebuilt the q jet. Bad winters those years 93/94
I just started my ’66 Biscayne wagon with a 250 and a P.G. Just depress the foot feed to the floor, release and turn the key. About 30 degrees today so the green cold light stays on for a few minutes.
BENT VALVE
I too at one time had a fast idle scraper. Many other tricks learned over the years now forgotten. Luckily during my Air Force years in Michigan’s Upper Penisula I had a fairly new vehicle, as opposed to the various pieces that later had to get me to work on wintery Indiana mornings.
The best trick I learned was to turn the headlights on (or otherwise cause a light draw on the battery) for about 15 seconds then proceed with whatever rigamoroll it took to start the vehical in question.
About the only time I didn’t make to work was the 10 degree morning when the timing belt in my 74 Vega broke. RRRR . . .thuuunk. DAMN.
Summers were better, my Harleys always started on the 1st or 2nd kick. Well, almost always.
Anyway, I’m proud to be retired and not have to deal with that nonsense.
Ha ha! Look.out of the window see the car covered in 2 feet of snow then go back to bed as its the weekend and the whole of the UKs road network is blocked anyway!