From Veeduber@aol.com  Sat Oct  7 23:07:28 1995
msgnum: msg17174
Date: Sun, 8 Oct 1995 00:07:25 -0400
From: Veeduber_at_aol_dot_com
Subject: Grendel, Saturday II


I've been here so long the neighbor kids think it's my home.  They ask neat
questions like, "Can'tcha' fixit?",  "Whadidya do to your thumb?" and --
perceptive as hell "Are those the only clothes you own?"   They also offer
biting commentary:  "My dad sez your bus is an eyesore."  A minute later:
"What's an eyesore?"  

My favorite was:  "When are you going to yell again?"  During a moment of
anguish, immediately following Post-Thumb Trauma I refered to something as a
'salt-water sucking sonofabitch' and other things, too.  I've expanded the
local vocabulary. The kids try out the new words on each other, providing
their own interpretations and variations.  I've become a part of their tribal
lore.

It is Saturday.  No school and blessidly, no rain.  The sun is out.  So are
the neighborhood kids.  I prefer the company of the neighborhood cats.  I
know they're laughing but they do it quietly, perched there on the back of
the driver's seat.  I laugh at them too as I scuff their ears and scratch
them between the eyes.  One morning real soon now they will find Grendel
gone, the parking space raked and and clean.

I began work about 0700, anxious to seat the axle into the new bearings.  But
I couldn't bang on things until someone banged first.  Shortly after eight
someone down the block fired up a lawnmower and I took it as permission to
bang away.  Took maybe three minutes of carefully aimed blows, big ball peen
on little ball peen inverted, to ease the axle into the inner bearing.  Then
came the fiddly bits.  It was a quarter past eleven when I  had the backing
plate and gearbox reassembled.  Except I forgot to install the can over the
locking nut.  Discovered my forgetfulness when I tried filling the gearbox
with oil.  Stopped, cleaned things up, started over.

By four-thirty Grendel had all four feet on the ground.  Why so long?  Mostly
me.  But the 12x1.5mm bolts holding the spring-plate to the gearbox were
rounded.  Chased the threads of both bolt & bore.  Without a vise, doing the
bolts was surprisingly difficult.  Once the drum was on and the axle-nut
torqued to spec, I adjusted the brakes.  Did it twice, hoping to center the
shoes.  The junkyard drum, like all the others, is worn out.  Mounted the
wheel, torqued the bolts to 70 ft/lb.  Went around and checked the other
three.  Wheels and suspension will not be a worry on the ride home. 

I shifted the jack and blocks to the front torsion beam, made a work station
so I would be comfortable for the brake-line repair, something I wasn't
looking forward to.  I'm about wore out, able to work only a few minutes at a
time.  The section of brake line I would have to repair runs along the
driver's side frame member, curving above the torsion tubes. I would need to
get the tubing cutter and double-flare tool into the space since I couldn't
bend the line down to gain space.  It looked like a real mare's nest.  I
figured out what had to be done, focused on the first step and got busy.

By not breaking for supper, I was finished splicing the brake-line by seven
thirty.  With pressure on the system, the SAE double-flare I'd fabricated
insisted on oozing until I grabbed it with a pair of visegrips and gave it
another quarter turn.  No ooze.

Bled the brakes.  Checked the adjustment.  Bled them some more.  I have about
half-travel on the pedal; it goes down about three inches then stops hard, as
if the pedal had just hit pavement.  No weep, no ooze, no slow descent to the
floor.  Good brakes, given the worn drums.

But no brake lights.  It appears the brake-light switch has failed.  It has
two, will work with one.  I've a hunch one hasn't been working for years and
the other failed when the system finally saw something approaching full
pressure.

And no heat.  That one at least is now a no-brainer; connect a few wires, add
some insulation to the central duct, let the hot wind blow all over my toe.

And no wiper.  Oh, it has a wiper but the wiper has no blade, 10" wiper
blades having proven to be as rare as small-hub grinding wheels for Makitas.

And no turn signals.  Emergency flashers but no turn sigs.

All little things.  I gave it about 12 hours today.  Tomorrow should see me
driving.  I've been away from home a month, have incurred numerous
obligations.  I must buy a few parting gifts, make some courtesy calls.  I'll
head south as soon as I can, probably Monday or Tuesday.  

-Bob