Tomorrow will mark the end of the first week of regular commuting
in my MGB since April 1993. It's ben a delight, though a steadily
improving delight.
Those of you who have been paying attention to my ramblings will
recall that the car was down most of last year while I attended
to the task of getting a book written, in the hours I wasn't earning
a living. Over the winter, Chris Kantarjiev and I finally got the
car to start; we tuned it, and then I promptly started squirting
oil out an unidentified location. Several weeks ago I did some
quick diagnostics and identified the location as the rear tappet
cover; last week, with the help of Tim Takahashi, I sealed up
that tappet cover (new gasket, Permatex something or other) and
have put the car back into service.
On Thursday I identified an oddity in the car's PCV setup. I have
a sort of jury-rigged ventilation system that duplicates the stock
system's flow (from front tappet cover to carbs), and have finally
managed to get that working. On Thursday, I noticed the car was
running rougher and smelling oily again on the ride home, so I
popped the bonnet. Oil was indeed being forced out from under the
valve cover gasket. As a diagnostic, I pulled the line feeding
the elbow on the gasket.
Blue smoke puffed out merrily. Oh, joy.
I replaced the sealed cap with a vented cap (originally used on
earlier MGBs) and left the line to the elbow from the canister
disconnected. As an interim solution, I ran a line (1/2" ID for
those who need to know) from the elbow to a catch tank (a Castrol
bottle tie-wrapped to the radiator shroud, of course). Tests
that evening showed a little blue smoke emanating from the region
of the catch tank. It's so disheartening some times.
So I drove to work Friday, making a particular point to vary the
RPM -- yes, this motor was "broken in" when new, but I broke it in
on the racetrack in 1991, and it's entirely possible that the
rings weren't happy yet. There was no blue smoke Friday.
Late Friday afternoon, I got a call from Kim, who had just left
on what was to be a 400-mile trip. Her car (our '63 Volvo 122S)
had suddenly lost power when she smelled gas, so she pulled to
the side of the road, unpacked the kids, and called me.
It then became a matter of making a Statement: I had to drive out
in the M.G. to fix the Volvo. Kim and the kids were safely home
("Elizabeth's mom drove us home!" Torrey exclaimed when I saw her;
helpful hint: try to break down near your school chum's house), so
I packed some emergency gear into a Lucas starter box (duct tape,
a crescent wrench, a couple of screwdrivers, Brakleen and a few
rags) and headed for the errant Swede.
The Volvo turned out to be simple: the input line to the carbs had
popped loose. Fortunately mechanical pumps are a sort of built-in
soft failure, as when the motor stops, the gas flow stops too. We
were still lucky, but it was a ten-second fix. I started the car
there, and then realized our predicament: we have three working cars,
one of which was this Volvo, and the other of which are two-seaters.
Kim ended up riding in the back of the Datsun, with both girls in
the passenger's seat -- not recommended but effective in an emergency.
Kim drove the Volvo home, where I installed hose clamps (there were
none on either end of the fuel line) and later safety-wired the
hard-line to its grommet on a bracket on the engine. (That's something
that British cars have taught me: if something breaks, don't just
put in a new one of the same thing, *fix* it.)
Yesterday and today I've been driving the M.G., however, and its
role as Rescuer Of The Volvo seems to suit it; it's started easily
(well, if you overlook the high compression; let's say it cranks
slowly but catches within a few revolutions), and best of all there
is no more blue smoke. I've identified a minor stumble at 4000 RPM
or so, which is most likely due to the by-guess-and-by-gosh needles
in the HS4s I've got in this car; they were originally set up for
a hot A Series motor, and what I really should do is have Charlie
Rockwell reshape them for me. Other than that, response is good,
low-end drivability is just about the same as stock, and top end
is strong (though I've been trying to take it easy, partly to let
the rings seat and partly because the local police seem to have
taken issue with an article in last week's paper saying they are
too short-handed to write enough tickets; I saw three on the way
to work this morning!)
But it's so good to have my car back. The Datsun has always been
"this car," as in, "I really like driving this car," or "This car
really has a lot of power." The Volvo has always been "our car"
or of course Rosilla, the name Torrey gave her shortly after we
bought her nearly two years ago. But the M.G. is "my car," as
in "I love having my car back." (And not to rehash "The Wizard
of Oz" again, or at least not with such a reprehensible pun, but
what was it Dorothy says at the end about looking for happiness
in her own back yard? Obviously, Dorothy simply didn't have a
garage of her own, if I may combine metaphors from L. Frank Baum,
Virginia Woolf, and Denis Jenkinson.)
Meanwhile, if anyone in the Bay Area would like to buy a very nice
Datsun 280ZX, I think I can work a deal... Hey, TeriAnn, wanna trade
for your MGB-GT??? I think we figured that my pushrods will work
in your motor...
--Scott
|