Hi there everybody,
So I guess it’s my turn for a ROTM. Now I don’t have the gnarliest or most immaculate cruiser out there, but I do have a close personal history very much intertwined with my baby, so my write up will be mostly stories about my travels and experiences with my 60. Enjoy!
My story begins with the birth of a baby boy… me! At the time my parents were driving an old MG convertible that didn’t quite have the seating capacity or the safety that they needed for their new baby. My mom was a first generation American and had grown up with very Greek parents. My grandpa, a self taught engineer and former merchant marine, had instilled in my mom an appreciation for sturdy machines. As such, she’d always been a fan of land cruisers, and it was a natural choice to pick up an FJ60. After some tire kicking and frame inspecting, my grandpa concurred, and the decision was made to get shopping. Later in that same year, 1988, a loan was taken out for a Sept. 1985 FJ60 in metallic blue/grey. And the stage was set for future adventures.
A surprising 13 months after me, my brother was born. Together, we fell in love with the cruiser. My mom would strap us into our car seats and we’d take off on “Mommy’s Lil Adventures.” We’d drive for hours with no real destination in mind. Many a puddle was driven through. The goal was to get lost on the back roads of the San Francisco Bay area. I strongly believe that these drives continue to be a huge influence on the person I am today. I still wander aimlessly (sometime to my own detriment…). The signature gear whine and motor noise of the 2f and h42 still give me a deep inner calm. I’m most at home when I’m in my cruiser, whether I’m miles on the interstate or trying to find the most remote place I can.
Time continued to tick away, and my brother and I continued to grow up (sort of…). The adventures began to have more of a purpose. The cruiser became our Lake Tahoe ski trip car. It took us to and from sports practices and games, and eventually sailing practices and regattas. But, as my brother and I continued to grow up and become more mature (haha, mature?), my mom found herself wanting something a little more peppy and fun to drive around. She didn’t need to carry a couple of hell raising boys all over the place anymore. She bought herself a BMW M3 for a new daily driver. By this time, the cruiser had become a family member, no one even considered selling her, but she was retired to weekend duty.
About this time I was realizing something. I am fully addicted to dirt. I love anything off road, and if it has a motor it’s even better. I was 14 when I bought my first car. For 100 dollars I managed to get myself a ratty 1970 VW bug that I planned to turn into a Baja bug. Unfortunately, I had spent all of my money on the initial purchase, so that plan was put onto the back burner. It was tough for a bit, but I got over it fast. I was falling in love with another form of dirt shredding.
Mountain biking took my life by storm. One summer, my brother’s friends got some fancy looking bikes and starting building jumps to ride. I was getting tired of sailing (thanks in no small part to my coach) so I decided to hang out with them and see what I could do; I was hooked immediately. I spent every waking hour either building jumps, riding them, or thinking about being on two wheels. I started racing Downhill shortly thereafter. I had found true love in the form of a mostly unheard of and mentally and physically exhausting sport.
Now to get back on subject. I got my license and was given my dad’s old Volvo to drive… I was not satisfied. I wanted the cruiser and wouldn’t rest until I had it. I had always loved it, it was my sibling. I always knew it had to be mine. After a little more than a year of proving myself to not be an idiot behind the wheel, it was handed over to me. Along with the keys, I was given a folder with every piece of paperwork ever associated with the cruiser. I have the original dealership delivery papers, all the service receipts, the loan paperwork and transfer of ownership from the original owner to my parents, the gas tank recall, everything. The cruiser baby had grown up and become a cruiser owner.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m immature. When the cruiser was transferred to me, I was 17. The first thing I did was get stuck in every mud hole I could get to. I got myself pretty dirty, got myself a trespassing ticket, a made good use of my tow rope. Eventually I got tired of being stuck all the time, and wanted me some more rubber. I decided to try to fit the biggest tire under it that I could. I had a friend who managed to get himself a retail license so he could get parts at wholesale for his 4runner and Suzuki. He got me a set of 33x12.5 Baja Claws on 2.5 backspaced rims… they rubbed… bad. There was a fleeting moment where the angle grinder was plugged in and cut lines were drawn. Thank God my parents put a stop to that immediately. I found that, when mounted on the stock rims, the Baja Claws actually mostly fit without having to carve into virgin sheet metal.
The cruiser spent a while like that. It got wheeled hard, was loaded to the brim with bikes, saw its share of back roads and camping trips, and had way too many stickers on it. High school ended, a year off mostly goofing around and biking, then a decision to move to Colorado to try to learn stuff in a school or something. I’d spent a lot of my summers at our family ranch in southern Colorado and had come to love the mountains. Big mountains also meant big mountain biking. It was an easy decision. It was to be the cruisers longest trip so far, and it needed some mechanical help. It got a full run though of tune up items, new oils in everything, and new suspension. It was the perfect excuse to finally pick the frame up off the ground and get those fenders off the tires. I had just found ih8mud.com and it was a valuable resource to me in the research leading to new suspension. I decided that an OME kit was right for me, and that Cruiser Outfitters was the place to get it. So in the July before moving out to Colorado, I got a phone call from the local UPS Store that I had an oversize package that I need to come pick up. I was excited to say the least. A day and a half later (I was still a pretty inexperienced wrench) my sweet baby cruiser was sittin proud and riding like a Cadillac. Time to get on out to Colorado.
One smog pump and about 1,200 miles later, I arrived in my new home. A house way up in the hills above Boulder with 4 strangers. That whole year was an experience I’ll never forget, but that’s a whole nother story and this story is already getting long, so I’ll sum it up. Snow is really fun to drive in, but the Baja Claws were getting a little worn down and really aren’t the best tire when you live in a place that’s icy half the year. So I got my some 33x12.5 BFG ATs on some nice new black steel wheels. I also found out after some close calls with foxes, a mother mountain lion with her cubs, and a black bear, that the stock cruiser headlights leave something to be desired. I picked up a pair of Hella Rallye 4000 lights and mounted them to the Thule bar I had on the roof. Now I could steer and see. Shortly thereafter though I got tired of hitting things with the lights, so now they live on the front bumper. I’ve got some other goodies… cb radio with the antenna mounted opposite the radio antenna, power inverter, K&N, etc.
Another perk of being a Colorado vehicle, no smog test! Now, there is smog testing up in Boulder, but I’m registered down at our ranch where the only check they ever did was to make sure it was actually a Toyota Land Cruiser when I switched the registration. I replaced and rerouted a lot of vacuum lines and blocked off some egr ports, then made a cat delete pipe from scratch and mated it to a Borla straight through muffler. Voila, smog junk free!
More wheeling, more biking, lots of drives to and from California, lots of drives to and from bike races, and I develop an idle issue. I try everything… ignition tune up, carb tune up, leak tune ups, then a dreaded compression test. #2 comes up way short… damn…
Which brings us to more or less current times. I’m a professional mountain biker now (read: professional bum) trying to save up enough money to eat for the rest of the month, and then maybe do something about this compression problem. Thanks for reading along and let me know if there’s anything more you want to know about. Now for some pictures in the next post...
So I guess it’s my turn for a ROTM. Now I don’t have the gnarliest or most immaculate cruiser out there, but I do have a close personal history very much intertwined with my baby, so my write up will be mostly stories about my travels and experiences with my 60. Enjoy!
My story begins with the birth of a baby boy… me! At the time my parents were driving an old MG convertible that didn’t quite have the seating capacity or the safety that they needed for their new baby. My mom was a first generation American and had grown up with very Greek parents. My grandpa, a self taught engineer and former merchant marine, had instilled in my mom an appreciation for sturdy machines. As such, she’d always been a fan of land cruisers, and it was a natural choice to pick up an FJ60. After some tire kicking and frame inspecting, my grandpa concurred, and the decision was made to get shopping. Later in that same year, 1988, a loan was taken out for a Sept. 1985 FJ60 in metallic blue/grey. And the stage was set for future adventures.
A surprising 13 months after me, my brother was born. Together, we fell in love with the cruiser. My mom would strap us into our car seats and we’d take off on “Mommy’s Lil Adventures.” We’d drive for hours with no real destination in mind. Many a puddle was driven through. The goal was to get lost on the back roads of the San Francisco Bay area. I strongly believe that these drives continue to be a huge influence on the person I am today. I still wander aimlessly (sometime to my own detriment…). The signature gear whine and motor noise of the 2f and h42 still give me a deep inner calm. I’m most at home when I’m in my cruiser, whether I’m miles on the interstate or trying to find the most remote place I can.
Time continued to tick away, and my brother and I continued to grow up (sort of…). The adventures began to have more of a purpose. The cruiser became our Lake Tahoe ski trip car. It took us to and from sports practices and games, and eventually sailing practices and regattas. But, as my brother and I continued to grow up and become more mature (haha, mature?), my mom found herself wanting something a little more peppy and fun to drive around. She didn’t need to carry a couple of hell raising boys all over the place anymore. She bought herself a BMW M3 for a new daily driver. By this time, the cruiser had become a family member, no one even considered selling her, but she was retired to weekend duty.
About this time I was realizing something. I am fully addicted to dirt. I love anything off road, and if it has a motor it’s even better. I was 14 when I bought my first car. For 100 dollars I managed to get myself a ratty 1970 VW bug that I planned to turn into a Baja bug. Unfortunately, I had spent all of my money on the initial purchase, so that plan was put onto the back burner. It was tough for a bit, but I got over it fast. I was falling in love with another form of dirt shredding.
Mountain biking took my life by storm. One summer, my brother’s friends got some fancy looking bikes and starting building jumps to ride. I was getting tired of sailing (thanks in no small part to my coach) so I decided to hang out with them and see what I could do; I was hooked immediately. I spent every waking hour either building jumps, riding them, or thinking about being on two wheels. I started racing Downhill shortly thereafter. I had found true love in the form of a mostly unheard of and mentally and physically exhausting sport.
Now to get back on subject. I got my license and was given my dad’s old Volvo to drive… I was not satisfied. I wanted the cruiser and wouldn’t rest until I had it. I had always loved it, it was my sibling. I always knew it had to be mine. After a little more than a year of proving myself to not be an idiot behind the wheel, it was handed over to me. Along with the keys, I was given a folder with every piece of paperwork ever associated with the cruiser. I have the original dealership delivery papers, all the service receipts, the loan paperwork and transfer of ownership from the original owner to my parents, the gas tank recall, everything. The cruiser baby had grown up and become a cruiser owner.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m immature. When the cruiser was transferred to me, I was 17. The first thing I did was get stuck in every mud hole I could get to. I got myself pretty dirty, got myself a trespassing ticket, a made good use of my tow rope. Eventually I got tired of being stuck all the time, and wanted me some more rubber. I decided to try to fit the biggest tire under it that I could. I had a friend who managed to get himself a retail license so he could get parts at wholesale for his 4runner and Suzuki. He got me a set of 33x12.5 Baja Claws on 2.5 backspaced rims… they rubbed… bad. There was a fleeting moment where the angle grinder was plugged in and cut lines were drawn. Thank God my parents put a stop to that immediately. I found that, when mounted on the stock rims, the Baja Claws actually mostly fit without having to carve into virgin sheet metal.
The cruiser spent a while like that. It got wheeled hard, was loaded to the brim with bikes, saw its share of back roads and camping trips, and had way too many stickers on it. High school ended, a year off mostly goofing around and biking, then a decision to move to Colorado to try to learn stuff in a school or something. I’d spent a lot of my summers at our family ranch in southern Colorado and had come to love the mountains. Big mountains also meant big mountain biking. It was an easy decision. It was to be the cruisers longest trip so far, and it needed some mechanical help. It got a full run though of tune up items, new oils in everything, and new suspension. It was the perfect excuse to finally pick the frame up off the ground and get those fenders off the tires. I had just found ih8mud.com and it was a valuable resource to me in the research leading to new suspension. I decided that an OME kit was right for me, and that Cruiser Outfitters was the place to get it. So in the July before moving out to Colorado, I got a phone call from the local UPS Store that I had an oversize package that I need to come pick up. I was excited to say the least. A day and a half later (I was still a pretty inexperienced wrench) my sweet baby cruiser was sittin proud and riding like a Cadillac. Time to get on out to Colorado.
One smog pump and about 1,200 miles later, I arrived in my new home. A house way up in the hills above Boulder with 4 strangers. That whole year was an experience I’ll never forget, but that’s a whole nother story and this story is already getting long, so I’ll sum it up. Snow is really fun to drive in, but the Baja Claws were getting a little worn down and really aren’t the best tire when you live in a place that’s icy half the year. So I got my some 33x12.5 BFG ATs on some nice new black steel wheels. I also found out after some close calls with foxes, a mother mountain lion with her cubs, and a black bear, that the stock cruiser headlights leave something to be desired. I picked up a pair of Hella Rallye 4000 lights and mounted them to the Thule bar I had on the roof. Now I could steer and see. Shortly thereafter though I got tired of hitting things with the lights, so now they live on the front bumper. I’ve got some other goodies… cb radio with the antenna mounted opposite the radio antenna, power inverter, K&N, etc.
Another perk of being a Colorado vehicle, no smog test! Now, there is smog testing up in Boulder, but I’m registered down at our ranch where the only check they ever did was to make sure it was actually a Toyota Land Cruiser when I switched the registration. I replaced and rerouted a lot of vacuum lines and blocked off some egr ports, then made a cat delete pipe from scratch and mated it to a Borla straight through muffler. Voila, smog junk free!
More wheeling, more biking, lots of drives to and from California, lots of drives to and from bike races, and I develop an idle issue. I try everything… ignition tune up, carb tune up, leak tune ups, then a dreaded compression test. #2 comes up way short… damn…
Which brings us to more or less current times. I’m a professional mountain biker now (read: professional bum) trying to save up enough money to eat for the rest of the month, and then maybe do something about this compression problem. Thanks for reading along and let me know if there’s anything more you want to know about. Now for some pictures in the next post...
), maybe I'll try to pick a few of the best and post um through mud... anyone got any suggestions for the best pictures to repost?
