Never the Same #57 Time Crunch

Despite working months on his stock car, Kirk is coming up short on the deadline.

 

 

            With time to finish his stock car running short, Kirk, at times, lapsed into panicked work mode. He’d move from bodywork to mechanical work to minor paint work like his new wheels. Being sunny and hot on Sunday afternoon, Kirk got two of the tires’ beads set with a little sweat. To do so, he had to wrap a tie down strap around to squeeze the tires out onto the wheel before the tire would take and hold air. With a little bit a finagling, a liberal squirt of dish soap, he got one tire taking air at a time then frantically pulling the strap off before the air pressure got too big and broke the strap. Which, of course, was a dangerous thing not knowing where the strap may fly. One horror story from Vo-Tech school where the instructors related an instance when an over-inflated tire exploded cleanly removing said mechanic’s head. Kirk really didn’t believe it, but then thought it could happen so remained the well-recalled safety tip. In tire shops they actually have heavy duty cages to air tires just in case… 

            Another dangerous practice was something that all, at least Kirk thought, stock car drivers and mechanics performed on their tires and that was the purposeful massive tire over inflation. Not on the track mind you but in preparation to race. With correct tire rotation noted by the little curved arrows on the tires, Kirk took the two tires that would be on the right side of the car and over inflated them by twenty-five pounds and put them out in the hot sun. He kept his head well away when airing the tires. Who only knows what the pressure goes up to out in the hot sun.

            What Kirk wanted to accomplish was to stagger in tire sizes. You wanted the outside, right side tires to be slightly larger than the inside tires using the same size tires. From what he had heard, they should be three inches or more in circumference. The rear axles are welded solid so there is no slip from side to side on the tires like in a passenger car, so with one tire larger the car will always want to go left around the track. Or so goes the theory. Anyway, Kirk performed the well-known but unproven practice to Kirk anyway. On the track, he’d probably run twenty-five pounds in the left-hand tires and thirty to thirty-five in the right-hand tires. Of course, there’s always tweaking during practice pre-race with suspension settings and tire pressures.

            Kirk pressed on. He had to get the car painted so set onto that. Normally, with a car for the street there would be fine-tooth comb operations like using fine sandpaper on blocks to find high and low spots and other minor imperfections that had to be leveled. Then, he’d hit it with spot putty or glazing compound to go with even finer sandpaper. Kirk threw that concept out the window so to speak. He wiped the car down with damp cloths where normally he would use thinner and a sticky tack cloth to get every last particle off of the surface. No, in the stock car’s case, he masked off the areas he had to like the windshield and the engine. He mixed up a thick can of gray primer, fired off the air compressor, and slathered on the paint with long, slow passes with the spray gun. I guess in the real sense of the word, he couldn’t slather with a spray gun, but nevertheless, he put the primer on thick actually producing a few runs here and there. Not to worry, he could sand them off quite easily after the primer dried which was pretty fast in an hour or so. Kirk wanted to get ‘er done and hit the runs with an electric sander and very lightly hit the rest by hand though very brief and light.  Wiping the primer dust off with another damp cloth, Kirk took a deep breath while taking in his garage space inside the old red barn. It wasn’t even close to an acceptable place to paint a car. Cobwebs still littered the corners around the wood log beams above, dust lingered on the floor no matter how many times Kirk swept (though not that many) and up above the ceiling lay stacked tons of hay that may filter through. Bugs in way of flies and spiders and beetles frequented his space.

            Kirk didn’t know how bad his paint job might be, but he pressed on regardless by mixing up the green paint for the spray gun. He didn’t even have a clean bare wall to test the spray pattern, so he did a quick burst of green across the old massive freezer (now parts storage) that sat in the corner. With a pfffftttt, he judged the spray and it looked okay except the green seemed dark for John Deere green. He shrugged. He had the paint mixed in the gun and so he set about to do it. He stood up on the side nerf bar while balancing carefully. On his first pass of green application across the roof, Kirk recalled that green stock cars were unlucky. Was this color a mistake? 

            Kirk had made the pivotal decision and stuck with it even though his sponsor brainstorm had fallen through. Back and forth he layered on the spray with a little overlap so he didn’t miss anything, when finished with that half, he stepped up on the other side. Surprisingly for a tractor paint, the green paint went over the primer like velvet. He pressed on, applying two good coats with three spray guns refills. Surprising even himself, he thought the paint job looked quite perfect though darker than genuine John Deere green. He frowned and had no idea why that was, maybe Warren sold him an ancient can of paint though the paint seemed all right without any thick settlings in the bottom. He turned off the compressor, cleaned his spray gun, turned his back on the painted car and walked away to breathe some fresh air instead of the lingering paint vapors.  After a minute or so, even though he didn’t want to look at the new paint, he went back in and looked at the paint job. Not a single run, not a missed or thin area. Kirk couldn’t believe his handiwork that ended up better applied than most of his carefully applied paintjobs. Well, that painting was done, though the car still needed the yellow trim and number three on the doors. Besides, that there’s much more to go and OMG time’s a wastin’.

            The car had still been wearing those old recap tires from last year. They had to go. Starting in the back, he jacked up the rear of the car and removed those old tires rolling them outside and into the silo room so he didn’t have to see them anymore. He mounted the wheel adapters as Tom had instructed with Locktite Blue because Kirk didn’t want a wheel and tire to go askew out on the track. What a mess that would be. He put the wheels and tires on and let the car down.  At his first notice of it, Kirk experienced a bit of a shock with how far down the car now sat in the rear with the new tires. He hadn’t really considered the difference in diameter between the new and old tires. How much closer to the ground will the car sit? It could be a good and a bad thing. With a lower center of gravity, the car should handle better sticking to the track better besides the new wider tires getting more grip. He hoped that the oil pan that he had Jon build was indeed even with or higher than the frame. Kirk changed the front tires and set the car down on the new tires.  He saw a significant difference in the car’s height. He could now lean over on the roof and he saw, if working on the engine, it would feel like the engine sat on the ground and he had to stand on his head while leaning over. Taking a look below, the oil pan, of course, remained unchanged relative to the frame for it appeared exactly even, though everything was undoubtedly closer to the floor. He’d have to be really careful about where he drove when off the track.

            Kirk had kept his brand-new carburetor in his bedroom, he was that possessive, concerned about his shiny, high-dollar performance purchase. He had the carburetor adapter out in the garage. Remember the rules state that a racer could run any sort of carburetor on his engine, but he had to run a stock intake manifold. That meant using an adapter between the stock intake manifold and the carburetor of the racer’s predilection. Kirk knew that he could modify, that is, grind the adapter and port of the manifold for better airflow, because, who would know or care, but he didn’t have that kind of time, so he carefully mounted the combination on the engine. He didn’t realize that new carburetor’s linkage pivot attachment sat 90 degrees differently from the old, stock carburetor until mounting. Well, he could take care of that problem later, so he hooked the fuel supply line up which didn’t require any major modifications. Kirk looked at his green car with new wide tires. The engine looked spiffy and all new as well. The brochure from the machine shop had hung on the wall ever since bringing the engine home, a month and half ago now, so he was well-versed to what he had to do before starting the new engine. Kirk couldn’t wait; he had to start it.

            Trying to calm his building excitement, he set up ramps from the driveway to the concrete floor making the ramps as long with a gentle incline as he could with some long planks. Aiming the steering straight out the door, Kirk pushed on the rear bumper and found, to his amazement, the car pushed extremely easily. After the front wheels got on the planks the car began moving on its own. Kirk had runaway cars before like over at Mike’ garage but had been a steeper grade. The car rolled out to the turnaround in the driveway and stopped. Kirk took it in, marveling how small and low the car looked now. His low, sharp, race car. He checked the oil level and made sure the oil filter was on tight. He peeked in the radiator for the bright green antifreeze level. Good.

            He could have prepared better for a startup, but he didn’t.  He dragged the extension cord out to hook the battery charger up. He hadn’t set the ignition timing up yet, having just set the distributor in the port, so he pulled the distributor out and set it aside. He looked inside to spy the slotted oil pump drive in the bottom. He found an old screwdriver, cleaned it thoroughly and checked that it would fit in the slot. He gave it turn to feel the resistance of the pump. Taking the screwdriver out, he sawed the handle off. He put the shaft in the drill motor and took it out to the engine. He unhooked the extension cord on the charger for the drill. (No cordless drills back then.)  Kirk opened up the oil filler cap. Engaging the screwdriver tip in the pump slot, he slowly started the drill and gradually increased the speed. He knew not to run the drill at peak speed which was probably too fast to run the oil pump. After a minute, he peeked into the oil filler and saw oil run inside the head. He stopped the drill abruptly, swung around to look at the oil pressure gauge. It indicted twenty-five pounds and falling. Good.

            By removing number one spark plug and then bumping over the engine, he found number one piston on top with a puff from the cylinder at Top Dead Center. (More or less)  He checked the timing marks which were slightly off from lining up. He rolled the engine over by hand little by little until they lined up. Checking the rotor position in the distributor to line up number one spark plug wire which he got it right after a couple tries. He tightened it down finger tight. After the engine trouble shooting contest and rebuilding engines this process was second nature for Kirk. He put the wires on the spark plugs following the firing order of 1-5-3-6-2-4. He hesitated with a deep breath. Good.

                  Getting a little high-test fuel from his can, he dumped about a quarter of a cup into the open carburetor. He knows from experience to avoid the carb when starting an untimed engine. Singed eyebrows and lashes remain a fun experience to remember when an engine backfires and belches flames. Kirk paused a moment to catch his breath, curb his enthusiasm, and think the starting process through.  He ducked his head into the cockpit window, pulled up on the run/kill switch, and thumbed down the starter button. With a split-second of cranking the engine lit off with a loud VAROOM! Kirk jumped with the sudden start with such unbridled ferocity. He realized, relishing the fact that the new engine sounded louder and more aggressive than his old stock engines, plus, he had routed the exhaust out the side door of the car versus underneath where it had been partially muted. The engine died, not unexpectedly. He looked down the throat of the carb and worked the throttle. No fuel in there, not unexpectedly. Kirk pushed the starter button down and the engine turned over several times before it caught, coughed and then just ran. Just smoothly and continuously though loudly and potently.

             Kirk paused a moment to reckon that the timing setting sounded off as he expected. He twisted the distributor this way and that until it ran less labored though it still ran rough with a lunging, rolling sort of lope which pleased Kirk to no end for he heard the lope of the formidable racing camshaft that affected the valve timing of the engine. In awe of his racing engine running, he suddenly recalled to check his oil pressure. The gauge registered a steady robust fifty-two pounds of pressure.  Leaning over the engine to grasp the throttle, Kirk slowly raised the engine speed up from idling, not too much, and held it there several moments. He let it go back to idle to shut it off remembering that proper new engine break in meant to bring the engine temperature up and then stopping it so allowing it to fully cool down. He needed to do this a few times before putting a load on the engine such as running it on the track. Even then, he couldn’t floor the throttle until putting in a significant easy time on the engine. Kirk felt happy about his new engine running for it had been a long time coming. How would it perform on the track? Kirk couldn’t wait! During his imaginary envisioning of driving his newly revamped car, it hit him again like a ton of bricks. No trailer!

                It did occur to him that he could ask Mike to borrow his trailer, but Kirk had broken all ties with Mike. No words had been exchanged, but Kirk just felt like he been thrown out of the garage and lost all associated garage privileges. Kirk had been perusing the classified listings looking for a trailer for months now but there were few and far between trailers. (Remember there was no Craigslist or Ebay back then.) There had been one high dollar stock car hauler that was a sweet rig with overhead tire racks and built in winches and toolboxes, but as you can imagine it waaaaay above what Kirk could afford. It would cost more than what Kirk had spent on his car and that was a lot.  What could the aspiring stock car driver do if he can’t get his car to the track. Punt?

            So, with less than a week before practice weekend he clandestinely borrowed the classifieds from the lunchroom at work. Desperation drove him to the classified listing of “Auto Parts and Accessories.” He hadn’t spent the time to just sit around and read the complete newspaper before, but hey! You never know. There in the listings, he read someone selling a trailer frame. No picture, it didn’t sound good and far from complete, but it was cheap, dirt cheap. Perhaps he could piece something together to haul his car.  After work, he called the number and found the trailer was still for sale and so he got the address.  Not all that far from home, Kirk thought he had to take a look at it.

            Pulling in the dirt driveway, the place looked all a shambles, kind of a mess with old cars and junk around. When he saw what he thought was the potential trailer his stomach soured and sank. What did Kirk expect? Some kind of gem that was much better than the ad let on, but no there it was, a bare frame, hitch with an axle and tires, a truck axle no less. Would he be embarrassed to tow this thing with his “new” car on it? Yeah, probably. He pulled up and parked near it. He could see potential, but the work�"the work that he would have to put into it. He pondered the situation before a rough, unkempt man staggered out to him.

            “Yello, there!” The man said impassioned like a used car salesman on the verge of a big sale. “You the one who called?” Kirk could smell alcohol fumes from six feet away.

            “Yep, that would be me. Is this the trailer you advertised, then?” Asked Kirk, hoping there was a better one hiding in the weeds. Indeed, this so-called trailer had a hitch, two rail frame from probably the same truck the axle came from. The wheels and tires didn’t look the worse, but they stook higher than a regular passenger car. He thought it would look odd as a car hauler, but he continued to look and think.

            “You know, son.” Kirk hated being referred to as “son” or “boy.” “I’ve had a lot of calls on this here trailer.” He set his foot up on the frame. “Real sturdy, could carry a lot of weight with that there axle and wheels. What’ya haulin’?”

            “Cars. I’d use it as a car hauler.”

            “Hmm, I s’pose you could that.” The man seemed confused by the concept.

            Kirk configured the trailer in his head knowing the trailer bed, the height it set looked way too high. Kirk assumed his infamous facial expression of total disgust and disinterest as he examined the trailer up and down and back and forth.

            “Ya’know, I got other guys comin’ to look at it later.”

            Kirk didn’t respond noting that this was never a trailer per se because there hadn’t been anything attached to the bed, it was never wired nor ever had plates. A note that back then, trailers could be registered pretty easily without the need for safety inspections that now require safety chains, a full array of lights and reflectors, and brakes. Kirk, more or less, a safety conscious sort of conscientious guy who wouldn’t use a vehicle or trailer that he deemed, more or less, unsafe�"thought he could make the trailer work, more or less. 

            “Well. I. Don’t. know.” Kirk said still working his disgust and disinterest expression while studying the ground.

            “I think this here trailer would work dandy for haulin’ a car.” The man said. “Ya’know, you could hook it right up to your, ah, van there and take ‘er home.”

            Kirk had already noted the hitch size and confirmed he could hook on to it. Being a homemade sort of affair, Kirk wouldn’t know how it would track down the road until actually doing it.

            “Will you take twenty-five less for it?” Kirk asked, suddenly businesslike.

            “Yes! Sure will.” The man enthusiastically said, with a bobbing of the head.

            As Kirk suspected, no one else was actually interested in the trailer and this guy knew he’d have a hard time getting anything for it, so bit down hard on the live one, Kirk. He paid the man, jumped in the van to back up to the trailer, and pulled it out of the weeds all the time hoping he hadn’t wasted his time and money which he didn’t have much of either. Seeing he was out in that direction with a little extra money, besides the twenty-five he haggled for, he headed over to Crazy Ed’s wrecking yard.

                Along the way, he decided the trailer tracked straight and smooth. Maybe… At Ed’s, besides the enthralling wide selection of automotive junk, Ed had a sizable rack of scrap iron. Kirk went over to the rack and sized up what he might need which amounted to moderate heft size of angle iron and some two-inch pipe. He didn’t have a concrete plan, but this was a case where you built as you go. Ed came ambling up to Kirk. Kirk was no doubt in a hurry to get building even though he didn’t know how that process would transpire.

            “Building a car hauler, I suppose,” Ed said.

            “Hey Ed. That’s a plan, I don’t know if I can with this�"thing.”

            “Making it a beaver tail, I imagine.”

            Kirk hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah, I thought about splitting the frame behind the axle with some bracing. Ummm, do you have any loading ramp steel?”

            “No, fresh out. With the season coming up, it has been a quick seller.”

            “I can imagine. So, I’m guessing I need about a dozen each of the two-inch angle and two-inch pipe.” He internally cringed. “How much?”

            “How about twenty-five?”

            Kirk thought the amount sounded auspicious for his trailer project.  “Great! I’ll just strap it onto the frame.”

            “So,” Ed began, helping Kirk drag out the lengths of steel and place them on the frame. “Without ramp steel what you plan to run the car on?”

            Kirk paused to look aside. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

            “Well, if you’re in a pinch let me show you something.” They finished loading and Ed gestured to the back storage building, at least that’s what Kirk recalled it as. Here in the building, Ed had a sawmill set up with all kinds of rough-cut lumber stacked up.

            “How about using some planks to run the car on?”

            Kirk felt a bit crestfallen seeing his trailer already had the possibilities of appearing Jerry-rigged, hick-built so installing planks would make it seem even more so.  Then, he immediately thought of the car sliding sideways off the trailer. What were his options?

            “Sure. Okay. I guess they’ll work.” He studied the stack of planks and compared the widths to his car’s tires. The planks wouldn’t be wide enough. He thought only a moment. He could use the widest planks and another row of narrower planks.

            “Yeah, let’s see…thirty feet of the wide planks and the same for the middle-sized ones.”
            “All right. I thought that you wouldn’t think they would work, but they’d be sturdy enough and the rough surface would work for traction.”

            “How much for that much lumber?”

            “How about twenty-five as well?”

            Kirk took in a heavy breath. “Yeah, okay.”

            “Let’s get you loaded up.”

            After loading up and paying Ed, Kirk sped off with his trailer and raw materials bouncing around behind with his focused intent to make it all into a car hauler. The sun was already heading down when Kirk motored through a Podunk Hollow village. He recalled an old, rickety hardware store deep in the hollow. Kirk stopped in and bought a box of carriage bolts long enough to go through the pipe and planks. He also bought enough nuts and washers for the bolts.

            Kirk headed for home calculating how much work he was in for. He really didn’t think he’d get the hick-built trailer done in time, but it occurred to him that important things occasionally do fall into place fortuitously like easily acquiring the trailer frame and getting the needed parts seemed to remarkably line up for him. Like he attained some hidden succor from an astral influence source though other times when he had sensed some outside invisible assistance there was usually hell to pay just around the corner...

            Nevertheless, Kirk had only days to get everything done and he had lingering doubts that it would get done.