Thank you. Hell of a post. Quite possibly the most eloquent post I've read on MUD. I'm glad you left it in.
Saving The Old Rustbucket--My 1982 FJ40 Tale (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Sea Knight
- Start date
This site may earn a commission from merchant affiliate
links, including eBay, Amazon, Skimlinks, and others.
- Status
Thank you. Hell of a post. Quite possibly the most eloquent post I've read on MUD. I'm glad you left it in.
Another sucker in the waiting line.
.yep.
- Thread starter
- #324
You make it sound so good when you broke down.
It actually hasn't happened that often, but I usually go through a quick breakdown inventory. Was anyone injured? Is the truck damaged? If the answers are no, I figure everything else will work out.
It was a long time coming, but I think I'm finally getting it.
Thank you Sir! Getting it out there was a good thing, for me. I hope it was helpful to others as well.
To everyone who asked about my Dad, Army. I just spent the evening with him. I took my laptop and read him your posts. He's not one for compliments, but he said you all sounded like really fine people. Indeed you are.
77mustard40
SILVER Star
Sea Knight said:To everyone who asked about my Dad, Army. I just spent the evening with him. I took my laptop and read him your posts. He's not one for compliments, but he said you all sounded like really fine people. Indeed you are.
Keep rolling Lee and enjoy that time together. You were missed last Friday but you have a much higher calling in OK my friend, see you soon.
- Thread starter
- #326
Chillin' in Pueblo--Part Two
0600 Mountain Time and I'm up, preparing for the hike to Pueblo Toyota. The dealership is located two miles west of Motel 6, nothing I can't handle, and it's not like I don't need the exercise. Almost ready to walk out the door, I'm watching the weather forecast and there's a knock at my door. I seem to be remarkably popular in Pueblo, less than 12 hours in town and this is already my second visitor. I open the door and it's my neighbor, Jorge (I never learned his name so I'm calling him Jorge). He's grinning, says "Good Morning," and thrusts two foil wrapped objects and a big cup of black coffee through the door and into my hands. I've barely said thank you before he turns and jogs into the parking lot and disappears around the corner. Whatever he delivered smells great. I go back into the room and investigate. Chorizo and egg breakfast tacos, well stuffed, and hot. Fantastic. Payback for the beer and Arby's sandwich. I wolf the tacos down and start layering for my hike. The weather is clear, but it's windy and twenty degrees so I put on three t-shirts and top them off with Ray's flannel shirt. Walking briskly I should be able to make the dealership in under thirty minutes, about the time their service department opens.
I walk out to Highway 50 and begin treking west. I'm on an uphill grade and leaning into the wind, when a big Ford 350 crew cab pickup pulls over alongside me. The passenger side window comes down and someone inside asks if I need a ride. I walk over to the truck and inside I see at least eight men crammed inside, construction workers, and in the center of the back seat is my new friend Jorge. This is a no brainer. I climb in and wedge myself between two young guys, everyone says "Good Morning" in unison, and I get a warm ride to the dealership. I'm there in ten minutes. Doesn't get much better than this--breakfast to my door and a free ride.
This is a small dealership and I'm the first one to arrive at the service department. I have the full attention of the service manager, who appears to also be the only service writer. I describe the clutch issue and explain my time crunch in trying to make it to the shipper in Seattle. He invites me to help myself to coffee and doughnuts in the lounge while they assess my problem. Through the window I see a couple of burly guys pushing The Turtle into a service bay. I'm not much of a doughnut eater but they're fresh and still warm; I certainly don't want to offend anyone by refusing their hospitality so I choke down a couple just to be sociable.
The service manager returns and asks if I'd like to accompany him into the shop. They want to show me the problem and discuss repair options. No fast talking or pressure. That's a refreshing approach. There's two techs standing by The Turtle, one big, one small. They remind me of Lennie and George from Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, but the roles are reversed. The big tech seems to be in charge and does all the talking. Little tech says nothing and nods his head a lot. I notice the big tech has an anchor and USN tattooed on his left forearm. I tell him I was Navy too, and he says "I'll take good care of you man." I believe him.
The clutch master cylinder looks old, possibly original, and it has self destructed in a big way. It looks as though it exploded, blowing clutch fluid all over the fire wall. As I'd seen the previous evening at the Shamrock store, the reservoir bowl is cracked from top to bottom and the edges have separated. I speculate that the crack had been there for some time, and the abrupt temperature change from 70 degrees in Raton to 20 degrees on the Colorado side of the pass caused the old plastic reservoir to complete its self destruction. There's no sign of fluid leakage at either end of the clutch hose, but there's obvious cracking in several spots and the hose looks old. The clutch slave does appear to be relatively new, just as the PO claimed, but it's an aftermarket part and the techs don't seem to have much confidence in its reliability. Obviously the master and hose will have to be replaced. Given the distance I still have to travel, they recommend replacing the slave as well. I turn around and see that the entire dealership sales force has drifted into the shop and gathered around The Turtle. It looks like a scene from King of the Hill. Everyone has an opinion, or a story, or wants to hear more about the trip to Kona. They're all drinking coffee and eating doughnuts and showing no sign of doing any work. Finally someone in a suit appears, possibly the manager, and tells everyone to go out and sell some cars. They quickly disperse.
I ask the service manager to give me a repair estimate and then go to the waiting area for a coffee refill. He returns with a guy from the parts department and says they have called around and there are no replacement parts in Pueblo, neither OEM Toyota or aftermarket. He can have everything I need from NAPA or Auto Zone by afternoon and have me out by quittin' time, if I don't object to aftermarket parts. They won't warrant the parts, but they will install them. Toyota replacement parts will cost more than twice the aftermarket price, but they'll be warrantied by any Toyota dealership. If I want Toyota, there's a problem because their parts manager is off and no one else knows how to use the parts system. He's out for the rest of the week.
I tell them I need to make some calls before deciding. They show me to a vacant salesman's office and give me their long distance calling code. First I call Yooper and explain the situation. I tell him that if it were my truck, I'd go with Toyota, but I need to know what Uncle Meldon would prefer. Without hesitation, Yooper says that if I don't mind spending a couple more days in the fleabag motel, he's sure that his brother would want OEM parts. Next I call John Hocker, parts guru at Sierra Vista Toyota in Arizona. John is a long time Cruiserhead with an encyclopedic knowledge of old Land Cruisers. I explain the situation and John says "Give me ten minutes." In less than ten minutes he calls back with the warehouse locations of every Toyota part that we need, and the transit time to get them to Pueblo. I don't recall which warehouse John recommended, but there was one that could have the parts here by the next day. I write down the warehouse info, thank John, and hand my notes over to their service manager. He's amazed that we have the parts located so quickly, takes the paper, comes back moments later and says he'll have the parts in house tomorrow morning, noon at the latest. He'll have me back on the road mid afternoon tomorrow.
David Dunbar calls for an update, then posts this to MUD:
"Jolly Green Giant Rescues the Commander
John Hocker came to the rescue and sourced the clutch parts in a Toyota
warehouse. The Pueblo dealer has ordered them. Turns out the slave was questionable and the master was cracked up. Only aftermarket was available locally and Uncle Meldon prefers OEM;
wonder where he gets that from?
Lee said the folks at the dealership were very helpful, if not quite as
knowledgeable as Hocker. When they heard that he was driving an FJ40
to Hawaii they took up the challenge of getting him rolling again as
soon as possible.
He should be rolling after lunch tomorrow and be drinking beer and
swapping tales with Steve before rush hour in Denver.
Dunbar"
It's barely 10AM and my work is done here. I decline the offer of a ride and walk back to the motel. I tune in the weather channel, and see that Winter storm warnings are in effect for northern Colorado and all of Wyoming. That's where I'm headed, but nothing I can do about it now. I've got no wheels and nowhere that I have to go. I do have a nice warm room. Time for a nap.
to be continued....
0600 Mountain Time and I'm up, preparing for the hike to Pueblo Toyota. The dealership is located two miles west of Motel 6, nothing I can't handle, and it's not like I don't need the exercise. Almost ready to walk out the door, I'm watching the weather forecast and there's a knock at my door. I seem to be remarkably popular in Pueblo, less than 12 hours in town and this is already my second visitor. I open the door and it's my neighbor, Jorge (I never learned his name so I'm calling him Jorge). He's grinning, says "Good Morning," and thrusts two foil wrapped objects and a big cup of black coffee through the door and into my hands. I've barely said thank you before he turns and jogs into the parking lot and disappears around the corner. Whatever he delivered smells great. I go back into the room and investigate. Chorizo and egg breakfast tacos, well stuffed, and hot. Fantastic. Payback for the beer and Arby's sandwich. I wolf the tacos down and start layering for my hike. The weather is clear, but it's windy and twenty degrees so I put on three t-shirts and top them off with Ray's flannel shirt. Walking briskly I should be able to make the dealership in under thirty minutes, about the time their service department opens.
I walk out to Highway 50 and begin treking west. I'm on an uphill grade and leaning into the wind, when a big Ford 350 crew cab pickup pulls over alongside me. The passenger side window comes down and someone inside asks if I need a ride. I walk over to the truck and inside I see at least eight men crammed inside, construction workers, and in the center of the back seat is my new friend Jorge. This is a no brainer. I climb in and wedge myself between two young guys, everyone says "Good Morning" in unison, and I get a warm ride to the dealership. I'm there in ten minutes. Doesn't get much better than this--breakfast to my door and a free ride.
This is a small dealership and I'm the first one to arrive at the service department. I have the full attention of the service manager, who appears to also be the only service writer. I describe the clutch issue and explain my time crunch in trying to make it to the shipper in Seattle. He invites me to help myself to coffee and doughnuts in the lounge while they assess my problem. Through the window I see a couple of burly guys pushing The Turtle into a service bay. I'm not much of a doughnut eater but they're fresh and still warm; I certainly don't want to offend anyone by refusing their hospitality so I choke down a couple just to be sociable.
The service manager returns and asks if I'd like to accompany him into the shop. They want to show me the problem and discuss repair options. No fast talking or pressure. That's a refreshing approach. There's two techs standing by The Turtle, one big, one small. They remind me of Lennie and George from Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, but the roles are reversed. The big tech seems to be in charge and does all the talking. Little tech says nothing and nods his head a lot. I notice the big tech has an anchor and USN tattooed on his left forearm. I tell him I was Navy too, and he says "I'll take good care of you man." I believe him.
The clutch master cylinder looks old, possibly original, and it has self destructed in a big way. It looks as though it exploded, blowing clutch fluid all over the fire wall. As I'd seen the previous evening at the Shamrock store, the reservoir bowl is cracked from top to bottom and the edges have separated. I speculate that the crack had been there for some time, and the abrupt temperature change from 70 degrees in Raton to 20 degrees on the Colorado side of the pass caused the old plastic reservoir to complete its self destruction. There's no sign of fluid leakage at either end of the clutch hose, but there's obvious cracking in several spots and the hose looks old. The clutch slave does appear to be relatively new, just as the PO claimed, but it's an aftermarket part and the techs don't seem to have much confidence in its reliability. Obviously the master and hose will have to be replaced. Given the distance I still have to travel, they recommend replacing the slave as well. I turn around and see that the entire dealership sales force has drifted into the shop and gathered around The Turtle. It looks like a scene from King of the Hill. Everyone has an opinion, or a story, or wants to hear more about the trip to Kona. They're all drinking coffee and eating doughnuts and showing no sign of doing any work. Finally someone in a suit appears, possibly the manager, and tells everyone to go out and sell some cars. They quickly disperse.
I ask the service manager to give me a repair estimate and then go to the waiting area for a coffee refill. He returns with a guy from the parts department and says they have called around and there are no replacement parts in Pueblo, neither OEM Toyota or aftermarket. He can have everything I need from NAPA or Auto Zone by afternoon and have me out by quittin' time, if I don't object to aftermarket parts. They won't warrant the parts, but they will install them. Toyota replacement parts will cost more than twice the aftermarket price, but they'll be warrantied by any Toyota dealership. If I want Toyota, there's a problem because their parts manager is off and no one else knows how to use the parts system. He's out for the rest of the week.
I tell them I need to make some calls before deciding. They show me to a vacant salesman's office and give me their long distance calling code. First I call Yooper and explain the situation. I tell him that if it were my truck, I'd go with Toyota, but I need to know what Uncle Meldon would prefer. Without hesitation, Yooper says that if I don't mind spending a couple more days in the fleabag motel, he's sure that his brother would want OEM parts. Next I call John Hocker, parts guru at Sierra Vista Toyota in Arizona. John is a long time Cruiserhead with an encyclopedic knowledge of old Land Cruisers. I explain the situation and John says "Give me ten minutes." In less than ten minutes he calls back with the warehouse locations of every Toyota part that we need, and the transit time to get them to Pueblo. I don't recall which warehouse John recommended, but there was one that could have the parts here by the next day. I write down the warehouse info, thank John, and hand my notes over to their service manager. He's amazed that we have the parts located so quickly, takes the paper, comes back moments later and says he'll have the parts in house tomorrow morning, noon at the latest. He'll have me back on the road mid afternoon tomorrow.
David Dunbar calls for an update, then posts this to MUD:
"Jolly Green Giant Rescues the Commander
John Hocker came to the rescue and sourced the clutch parts in a Toyota
warehouse. The Pueblo dealer has ordered them. Turns out the slave was questionable and the master was cracked up. Only aftermarket was available locally and Uncle Meldon prefers OEM;
wonder where he gets that from?
Lee said the folks at the dealership were very helpful, if not quite as
knowledgeable as Hocker. When they heard that he was driving an FJ40
to Hawaii they took up the challenge of getting him rolling again as
soon as possible.
He should be rolling after lunch tomorrow and be drinking beer and
swapping tales with Steve before rush hour in Denver.
Dunbar"
It's barely 10AM and my work is done here. I decline the offer of a ride and walk back to the motel. I tune in the weather channel, and see that Winter storm warnings are in effect for northern Colorado and all of Wyoming. That's where I'm headed, but nothing I can do about it now. I've got no wheels and nowhere that I have to go. I do have a nice warm room. Time for a nap.
to be continued....
Last edited:
- Joined
- Sep 29, 2010
- Threads
- 131
- Messages
- 1,835
- Location
- San Antonio, TX 78253
- Website
- www.facebook.com
I'm digging the reference to the past current time mud postings of your situation at the time. When is someone going to forward this book a editor and get it published? Excellent read mate!
Tech Tip - Always replace Master when you replace Slave and the hose in between.
I would be all over non-OEM on this......but.......
I would be all over non-OEM on this......but.......
- Thread starter
- #329
Thanks Sully. Hopefully my manager, Dave G, is working on a big time book deal.
I agree. I just replaced the clutch master and slave on the old rustbucket. Bought them both from NAPA, but they appeared to be OEM parts rebranded as NAPA. Had the same experience with a NAPA fuel pump, which turned out to be a Kyosan. No complaints.
I used the braided stainless hose from SOR. Wasn't that much more expensive than an OEM soft hose, and it sure is purdy.
Damn good read Lee, glad to hear your dad is better. keep'um coming, I've been hooked since page 1. Good story.
Thanks Sully. Hopefully my manager, Dave G, is working on a big time book deal.
Working on it.
Lake Rat said:
what he said
1911
chupacabra
Remember when Mark (and you?) found the only 3FE alternator in existence in all of Travis County, in the middle of a blizzard no less, at an off-brand auto parts store and it turned out to be a Denso? It's still running in that truck to this day.
I used the braided stainless hose from SOR. Wasn't that much more expensive than an OEM soft hose, and it sure is purdy.
I have the exact same one on mine; got my Aisin master and slave from them too.
Back to work writing for you! Though I do hope that Army is doing better.
sterling
SILVER Star
Great read as always please keep it up!
Army is in our thoughts
Army is in our thoughts
agomez
Frijoles
jorge knows tacos...
- Thread starter
- #337
Heck yes cuz, how could I forget our daring 1911 rescue mission during the worst ice storm in Travis County history. No one on the streets but us and the police. I was the one who found that alternator. Mark drove us there to pick it up in his FJ62. I think we got you a new battery too? That episode would make a great chapter in someone's book.
Army is doing just fine. He's remarkably strong for a 91 year old recovering from stroke number three. I know he's fine because he's back to complaining about everything. Off to visit him now.
I always mourn the end of a good book. Holding a book in your hands and anticipating that last page is always a bit of a sad event for me. Not so with this read. It feels good that it MAY go on indefinately (and the back cover isn't visible in my computer). When you run out of experiences please start making $hit up. I don't care, I just don't want to see
THE END.
THE END.
thorvald
.......
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2002
- Threads
- 108
- Messages
- 1,569
- Location
- on the ice, wyoming
- Website
- www.pointyhatdesigns.com
I always mourn the end of a good book. Holding a book in your hands and anticipating that last page is always a bit of a sad event for me. Not so with this read. It feels good that it MAY go on indefinately (and the back cover isn't visible in my computer). When you run out of experiences please start making $hit up. I don't care, I just don't want to see
THE END.
if he runs out of material (which seems doubtful
), someone just needs to buy a cruiser and have him deliver it for them. Great thread! I agree with all the comments that this would make a great book, better than Who needs a road, and probably appealing to more than just the cruiser crowd.
I always mourn the end of a good book. Holding a book in your hands and anticipating that last page is always a bit of a sad event for me. Not so with this read. It feels good that it MAY go on indefinately (and the back cover isn't visible in my computer). When you run out of experiences please start making $hit up. I don't care, I just don't want to see
THE END.
That's because no one wants to end a good conversation with a good friend
- Status
