I think it's worth a public update that this truck (lovingly called "Dirtbag") is up and running! It certainly has patina to beat all patinas, and what a testament to the longevity and quality of the FJ40!
First, a photo from a local meet-up here in Los Angeles, and then everything I had to do to get it back up and running.
As most of you on the forum know, the fascination with these trucks runs deep, and I've been in the thick of it for quite some time. My daily driver in Los Angeles for almost 6 years is a late-1964 FST FJ40, Yosemite Yellow, in fantastic near-original condition. I have long intended to bring that truck to 100% original condition, so I'm always keeping an eye out for parts that span the 1964/1965 YOM.
In late-2016 I was on the hunt for the original (early) rear seats. Some of you will say "just take the later seats and cut off the rail mounting tab", but no, I had to find the real deal...
And that's how I came to find Dirtbag. Because, why buy the seats when you can buy the whole truck. Right?!
The journey, in short:
Ebay purchase. 2-day drive from California to Ohio. Mad dash to install the tow bar bumper before an impending blizzard (Thanks for the help, Jesse). Flat towing (on 30+ year-old tires) through 1 blizzard, 3 torrential downpours, 9 states, and 2,367 miles. Arrived relatively unscathed in Hollywood. Total journey – 5 days.
I'll admit, I didn't have much hope for it as a driver. Of course, I was told the engine should be good, and if everything got wired up, it might run, but you know how much that's worth, and I had zero faith in the old rusty brakes, the old crunchy seals, the old rusty–you get the point. So, the first thing I did was pulled those rear seats for the other Cruiser and stuck them in storage until I reupholster them. Winning!
And then it sat–For almost a year.
During that time I went ahead and started the process of getting a California non-op title for it, managing the nonsensical inspections, the annoying trips to the DMV, and somehow, as if by magic, I found myself able to get plates! (But that's a story for another day.)
As soon as I had a title and plates, the small flicker of a (crazy) idea began to grow...What if I can get this thing up and running, instead of just parting it out? Then, I told myself, I could use it as my donor vehicle AND a driver! Sort of a symbiotic relationship between the two project trucks. One ending in a 100% original, and the other (Dirtbag) ending as a really cool patina driver with a lot of new (but non-original) parts.
And so the madness took hold. (insert cool montage music of your choosing here)
My first goal was to make sure the motor could turn over. I was feeling optimistic, but it had sat for so long, that there's no telling... Tried turning by hand on the crank pulley. No luck. Tried with a fat screwdriver on the hand-crank nut on the front. No luck. Oil in the pan? Lots of it, and very clean. Removed spark plugs and tried the Marvel Mystery Oil method: Soak each cylinder with about 2 tablespoons of the stuff for a few days, and then try it. Was able to turn it about 1/16th of a turn, and then stuck again. More MMO in the cylinders, waited a week, and then...another 1/8th of a turn. I was getting somewhere! Next I put a breaker bar on the flywheel teeth one by one and levered against the block. One tooth, push, small turn. One tooth, push, small turn. I did this until it had successfully rotated 2 full turns without any clanking or weirdness from within!
I was feeling good, so I grabbed the battery from the other truck and hooked it to the starter...voila! Chunka, chunka, chunka. 'Round and 'round it went, more free with each turn. No clanks. No clunks. Just beautiful spinning of that old F motor.
Once I knew the motor turned, I felt like I could conquer the world. (But it wasn't running yet.)
I had a friend staying with me for a couple of months, and together we replaced all brake parts: all steel lines and soft lines, all wheel cylinders, master cylinder, shoes, parking brake cable, parking brake shoes... Even if this truck couldn't go, at least I knew it would stop.
We re-wired, replaced, re-tested, and got every switch, light, and gauge (except for the old burnt out ammeter) working.
New radiator hoses, new belts, new plugs, new clutch slave and master. I was in a delirium of Land Cruiser madness. I HAD to get this running.
One month later there it sat with shiny new headlights and turn signals, in stark contrast to it's rusty panels, and I was ready to finally conquer the steel beast of that old F motor.
New distributor? Check. New coil? Check. New battery? You got it. Spark? Yep. Cleaned out carb? Good to go.
And so we finally came to the moment of truth...
Jumper cables from the other Land Cruiser, a quick timing check, and a palpable nervous excitement. Pump the gas. See fuel in the barrel? Yep!
Click as I my buddy turned the ignition switch to the first position. My hand on the distributor. Zzzzrrrr-pufff. Zzzzrrrr-pufff. Small turn of the distributor. Zzzzrrrr-pufff. One more turn... Zzzzzrrrr-pufff-pop----gluh---gluh--gluh-gluh-gluh!! And it ran! No. Better yet, it purred.
We had done it!!!!! In an almost anti-climactic way, it went from dead to alive in what seemed like seconds. Like it just woke up from a long nap and said, "oh, hey guys. You need something?"
A testament, I suppose, to the nature of these machines, and the engineering prowess of the Japanese. Someone should write a book called The Everlasting Land Cruiser.
We climbed in and took it for a spin around the block. One lap and the smoke started to dissipate from the exhaust. 2 laps and we were zipping along like it was fresh off the dealership floor. People in the neighborhood stared at us...some guys cruising in a rusty old clunker with no windshield... unaware that this was our chariot, and we were conquerers taking in our moment of victory and sheer joy.
There are few things in life that compare to such a feeling. And, admittedly, people who don't appreciate old cars probably just won't get it. But, we were on top of the world with Dirtbag back on the road. A rust-laden member of casual society in Los Angeles, cruising alongside the frequent Prius, and more frequent Tesla–as if saying, "I may be noisy, smelly, and crude, but let's see how you're doing in another 53 years."