The Road Trip From Hell, or What The HELL Was I Thinking?...
I like Valiants.
Everyone has their little foibles, and mine (one of 'em, at least) is The Big V. Please don't judge me...
The Valiant started out in 1962 as a US import brought in to compete against the Holden and Falcon. And for a while, it did. After a while, though, sales diminished, Chrysler Australia was sold to Mitsubishi, and the Valiant was killed off in 1981. RIP...
During their glory days of the early 70's, the Valiant was used in the various Crawford TV crime shows - "Homicide", "Division 4", "Matlock Police", "Ryan", "Bluey", and "Cop Shop" all featured VH, VJ, and VK Vals dressed up as Victoria Police vehicles. While the Crawford streets featured more Valiants than you could poke a driveshaft at, in real life, the Victorian Police didn't actually use all that many. They were fast in a straight line, but didn't like corners all that much.
But nary a Crawford show went by without a car chase featuring a hapless crim being doggedly pursued by the cops in their trusty Valiant, complete with spinning wheels, smoking tyres, fishtailing rear ends, and more body roll than you'll see in a weight loss centre.
It made an impact on me as a kid, and still does now. For years, I've hankered after one of those 70's Valiants.
And been keeping an eye out for a suitable candidate to turn into something like this:
Found one suitable candidate - and missed out. Saw it on Gumtree, and got in touch with the seller. Turns out the car had been sold, and he just hadn't gotten around to pulling the ad...
So, each day I'd diligently check eBay and Gumtree for a contender. Which is when I spotted this:
A 1973 VJ Valiant Regal.
Now, I wasn't actually after a Regal - I wanted a base-model Ranger, to mock up as a cop car. I'd always figured that if I were to get a Regal, it'd look like this:
That's the one used in "Bluey" (later known as "Bargearse"). Would love one identical to that. But this one was on offer, and was priced low enough to pique my interest. So, I made further enquiries, and received additional images:
Not bad - aside from the usual Valiant rust spots...
After further convos with the seller, a date was arranged for me to travel to Shepparton to check the vehicle out. The plan was that, if I liked it enough and thought it was worthy, I'd purchase it on the spot and drive it home to Melbourne.
The seller expressed misgivings about the plan, which should have rung great big warning bells. However, An Idiot Will Not Be Deterred, so I duly withdrew the funds from the bank, obtained an Unregistered Vehicle Permit which would allow me to drive it on the highway, and teed up good buddy Lenny to chauffeur me to Shepp.
Cometh the Great Day, and Lenn and I zoom up the Hume in his trusty Magna. The day is pleasant, as is the company, and the trip goes well. We arrive at the destination with only one wrong turn, and there she is, parked in the driveway.
Closer inspection shows her to be pretty much as advertised - perhaps a tad more rust, but nothing unexpected. Starts and runs OK.
Bought it on the spot, and started to drive it back to Melbourne. 175 k's or so.
Which is when the fun began...
The Best-Laid Plans Of Mice And Men, or Whose Dumb Idea Was This Anyway... ooh, bugger - mine...
Even making allowances for having gotten out of a nice late-model car with all the mod-cons (my daily drive is a lovely 2007 Mitsubishi 380 GT), the Val was dreadful. An absolute pig, in fact. Steering and suspension were (are) buggered - that horrible wandering steering that you used to get from cross-ply tyres; a quarter-turn of free play, and constantly turning the wheel from side to side in a partially successful attempt to correct the wander and keep tracking straight. It's been well over a decade since I've had a car without power steering, and there was major culture shock. I was used to a wide turning circle (the result of several front-wheel drive vehicles, which are noted for having the turning circle of a small house), but this was something else entirely. Instead of the usual "two fingers on the wheel and a flick of the wrist" turn, this was a two-fisted, twenty-five turns lock-to-lock experience.
Power steering will be fitted at some point.
The brakes worked, but I was pretty wary using them - again, stepping out of a decade of vehicles with four-wheel disc brakes and ABS into a non-ABS job with drum brakes on the rear and a "yeah, I'll let you know" response to jumping on the anchors didn't inspire confidence...
And, on attempting a tyre-shredding rocket launch from a set of traffic lights, the transmission slipped a couple of times, too.
All fixable in the long term, just not much fun at the time.
Also not much fun at the time was realising that the car directly in front of me was a Highway Patrol unit, and that my Unregistered Vehicle Permit was in a bag on the back-seat of Lenny's car, rather than Affixed To The Windscreen Of The Vehicle, as required. Quickly rectified.
And hey - the factory power windows (a rare option in those days) all worked perfectly!
Being low on motion-lotion, I hustled the Val into the nearest servo and filled the tank to the brim. The seller had told me that he'd topped the coolant up that morning, so I didn't bother checking it. Or the oil. Or the transmission fluid.
A BIG mistake (and my own silly fault).
So, hi-ho, hi-ho, it's down the road we go. Nice arvo for a drive - windows down, breeze blowing through what's left of my hair, and hitting that sweet spot where all the various rattles and vibrations coalesced into a sort of harmony and the ride became bearable.
Belting along at 100 km/h in a 110 zone, keeping diligently to the left, with my buddy behind me, everything's going more or less OK. Until "more" became "less". And then "not".
Fifty or so clicks down the road, the Temp needle is rising. Then it's on the red. Not entirely unexpected, and I've taken the precaution of bringing water and coolant with me. So, I kept going in the hope of reaching a "service centre" on the side of the road. Which I did. Except that it's on the OTHER side of the road, which was a much use as a politician is to a pensioner.
Another few K's, expecting a cloud of steam and smoke to issue from under the bonnet at any moment, and we came upon a handy rest spot. Pulled up, and lifted the bonnet. Sizzling, bubbling noises from the radiator, smoke coming off the engine. The accumulated oil which has leaked from the rocker cover and side-plates over the years is now burning. The radiator cap is red-hot.
Lenn is exceptionally helpful - "Problem, buddy?". He's in no hurry, which is great. We've got time to let the car cool down.
Poured water over the radiator header tank until it cooled down enough to touch, then with my hands sort of protected by a huge wad of paper from the rest stop loo, I gingerly rotated the radiator cap to the first stop. Surprise - no gusher of scalding, rusty water! Off comes the cap, and...
...the bloody radiator was pretty much bone-dry. Unlike so many 40 year-olds, this one HADN'T retained water. Had a litre of coolant on me, and several bottles of water - and it took 'em all. And several refills from the taps in the rest stop loo, with Lenn and I forming a kind of ad-hoc, two-man bucket brigade.
On the positive side, not a leak to be seen once it was full.
Remembering the slippages, I checked the tranny fluid. Surprise, surprise - bone-dry. Had a litre on me, which I added. And burnt my arm doing so. Checked the engine oil - not much. Didn't have any of that on me, so I resolved to pull into the next servo and get some!
But, all fluids had been pretty much replenished, so the problem should be solved. Right? Of course not, stoopid. Have you learnt nothing so far?
Kicked her in the guts - she fires straight up, temp gauge is down to about 1/4. Off we went.
Got about five K's before I noticed smoke. Figured it was the engine still smoking. But, I could now smell it and it smelt acrid and electrical, and was getting worse. Smoke started billowing from under the dash. Pulled up, shut her down, and staggered out of the car, coughing. Lenn climbs out of the Magna - "Problem, buddy?".
(Back-story. Car had an LPG system fitted. It caused the car to overheat, so it was disconnected. A separate ignition switch was fitted, bypassing the one on the column. Lots of extra wiring under the dash).
Car's off, and there's no more smoke, but nothing's happening - the ignition switch isn't working anymore. I'm on the side of a major highway, 100 or so K's from Melbourne, with a dead car, and no tools. Not my idea of a happy Sun-dee arvo...
If necessary - and it appears to be - Lenn and I can get back to civilisation just fine in the Magna.
But, I don't want to leave the car there. We'd have to push it off the side of the road, which is kind of not an option - I'm as far over to the left as I can get, and the side of the road curves upward. Pushing a Valiant uphill is not an option. It's on a bend, and cars coming round it are getting uncomfortably close. I have visions of returning hours later to find a mangled heap of green scrap metal where my car used to be. And it's gonna be a pain in the ane organising a low-loader to get the Val back to the Big Smoke (no pun intended).
Back In My Yoof, I did an apprenticeship as a motor mechanic. I was awful. I've no patience at all with inanimate objects (as those who know me are well aware!), and that's a pretty basic failing for a profession which involves spending most of your day dealing with recalcitrant nuts and bolts. Basically, objects either bend to my will, or get trashed. There's a long history of destroyed VCR's, computers, and CD players which can attest to my lack of empathy with "things" - my prevailing philosophy is along the lines of "if I press the button, you WILL work. Or else".
That approach didn't work for me as an apprentice at the SEC - I remember getting out of an International truck with a persistent brake problem, and slamming the door so hard that the window shattered. And then there's the time I hurled a huge spanner in a fit of impotent rage and frustration, and damned near decapitated a passing leading hand...
I retained a basic, "backyard mechanic" level of knowledge, but there's a twist: the SEC was fairly heavily unionised, and the apprentice motor mechanics weren't allowed to ever touch electrics. So, I can change a head gasket, brakes, and all the most basic stuff - but know sod-all about electricals. Which is what the current problem was. ("current" - HAAAAA!!!).
Necessity being the Mother Of Invention, and Desperation being the Mother Of Necessity, I lift the bonnet in the hope of being able to nut something out. I figure I can mayyyybe run a wire from the battery to the coil, and then short the starter motor out with a screwdriver, and get her running that way.
I jump back into the driver's seat, and have a look at the aftermarket ignition switch, and have an idea (gleaned from watching all those Crawford cop shows). Can I bypass the ignition switch?
Hoicked the wires off the switch, and touched two together. Bingo - the dash lights come on. Touch the third one, and she starts! OK, problem solved. Lenn and I are both overjoyed. And I'm soberly aware that it's only the relatively simple mechanics of the car which have gotten me out of the hole - had it been a more recent vehicle, with the various engine management computers and electrics, I'd have been buggered.
I'm now using a jumper cable to hold all the wires together, and we're mobile. Granted, the indicators aren't working, and neither are the power windows (so I can't give hand signals), but she's at least moving, and at this point, that's all that matters. Lenn's behind in the hasn't-missed-a-beat Magna (well, it's sort of a Valiant...), so he can indicate for me. Off we go. Again.
Pull into a servo about 20 k's later - added another litre of tranny fluid, and a couple of litres of oil. No leaks anywhere. Clipped a wire off the defunct LPG system, plugged it into the fourth wire from the ignition switch, added it to the wires held by the jumper cable, and I've got indicators and windows back!
So, we're off again, with Lenn keeping station behind. And, after a while, the temp's up to the red again. But, by this point, I'm at Wallan, which is spitting distance from home. Pulled into the rest centre, and had some McChucks (was starving by this point!). Shouted Lenn lunch - the least I could do for all his patience!
Car had cooled down again, and basically stayed OK from that point on - needle was hovering around the "m" in "Temp", and didn't go any higher.
Apart from one very hairy moment where the route back onto the freeway consisted of a long, tight right-hander which saw me straddling both lanes at 90, trying to get the Valiant around it without understeering off to the left or oversteering off the the right (neither of which I'd have been able to save with the dodgy steering), we made it back to Melbourne just fine - eventually! I figure that's the worst it'll get, and it's all downhill from here.
And I even had my first taste of the positives of owning a classic car - I hear a "toot-toot" next to me, and look around to see a gent in a Ford Territory giving me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
But, hey - she's home!
First priority is getting the wiring sorted, then steering and suspension, then the cooling system and idle (miles too high). Rust repairs and respray are still a way off. Money will be involved, and it'll get expensive.
But... Since getting home, I've walked out to her a few times to do minor bits and pieces. And each time I've walked out and seen her sitting there, I've gotten a huge grin on my face...
So, it all worked out. But if you ever hear me planning to buy an old car and drive it home, you have my permission to slap me across the face until I snap out of it!
Everyone has their little foibles, and mine (one of 'em, at least) is The Big V. Please don't judge me...
The Valiant started out in 1962 as a US import brought in to compete against the Holden and Falcon. And for a while, it did. After a while, though, sales diminished, Chrysler Australia was sold to Mitsubishi, and the Valiant was killed off in 1981. RIP...
During their glory days of the early 70's, the Valiant was used in the various Crawford TV crime shows - "Homicide", "Division 4", "Matlock Police", "Ryan", "Bluey", and "Cop Shop" all featured VH, VJ, and VK Vals dressed up as Victoria Police vehicles. While the Crawford streets featured more Valiants than you could poke a driveshaft at, in real life, the Victorian Police didn't actually use all that many. They were fast in a straight line, but didn't like corners all that much.
But nary a Crawford show went by without a car chase featuring a hapless crim being doggedly pursued by the cops in their trusty Valiant, complete with spinning wheels, smoking tyres, fishtailing rear ends, and more body roll than you'll see in a weight loss centre.
It made an impact on me as a kid, and still does now. For years, I've hankered after one of those 70's Valiants.
And been keeping an eye out for a suitable candidate to turn into something like this:
So, each day I'd diligently check eBay and Gumtree for a contender. Which is when I spotted this:
Now, I wasn't actually after a Regal - I wanted a base-model Ranger, to mock up as a cop car. I'd always figured that if I were to get a Regal, it'd look like this:
The seller expressed misgivings about the plan, which should have rung great big warning bells. However, An Idiot Will Not Be Deterred, so I duly withdrew the funds from the bank, obtained an Unregistered Vehicle Permit which would allow me to drive it on the highway, and teed up good buddy Lenny to chauffeur me to Shepp.
Cometh the Great Day, and Lenn and I zoom up the Hume in his trusty Magna. The day is pleasant, as is the company, and the trip goes well. We arrive at the destination with only one wrong turn, and there she is, parked in the driveway.
Closer inspection shows her to be pretty much as advertised - perhaps a tad more rust, but nothing unexpected. Starts and runs OK.
Bought it on the spot, and started to drive it back to Melbourne. 175 k's or so.
Which is when the fun began...
The Best-Laid Plans Of Mice And Men, or Whose Dumb Idea Was This Anyway... ooh, bugger - mine...
Even making allowances for having gotten out of a nice late-model car with all the mod-cons (my daily drive is a lovely 2007 Mitsubishi 380 GT), the Val was dreadful. An absolute pig, in fact. Steering and suspension were (are) buggered - that horrible wandering steering that you used to get from cross-ply tyres; a quarter-turn of free play, and constantly turning the wheel from side to side in a partially successful attempt to correct the wander and keep tracking straight. It's been well over a decade since I've had a car without power steering, and there was major culture shock. I was used to a wide turning circle (the result of several front-wheel drive vehicles, which are noted for having the turning circle of a small house), but this was something else entirely. Instead of the usual "two fingers on the wheel and a flick of the wrist" turn, this was a two-fisted, twenty-five turns lock-to-lock experience.
Power steering will be fitted at some point.
The brakes worked, but I was pretty wary using them - again, stepping out of a decade of vehicles with four-wheel disc brakes and ABS into a non-ABS job with drum brakes on the rear and a "yeah, I'll let you know" response to jumping on the anchors didn't inspire confidence...
And, on attempting a tyre-shredding rocket launch from a set of traffic lights, the transmission slipped a couple of times, too.
All fixable in the long term, just not much fun at the time.
Also not much fun at the time was realising that the car directly in front of me was a Highway Patrol unit, and that my Unregistered Vehicle Permit was in a bag on the back-seat of Lenny's car, rather than Affixed To The Windscreen Of The Vehicle, as required. Quickly rectified.
And hey - the factory power windows (a rare option in those days) all worked perfectly!
Being low on motion-lotion, I hustled the Val into the nearest servo and filled the tank to the brim. The seller had told me that he'd topped the coolant up that morning, so I didn't bother checking it. Or the oil. Or the transmission fluid.
A BIG mistake (and my own silly fault).
So, hi-ho, hi-ho, it's down the road we go. Nice arvo for a drive - windows down, breeze blowing through what's left of my hair, and hitting that sweet spot where all the various rattles and vibrations coalesced into a sort of harmony and the ride became bearable.
Belting along at 100 km/h in a 110 zone, keeping diligently to the left, with my buddy behind me, everything's going more or less OK. Until "more" became "less". And then "not".
Fifty or so clicks down the road, the Temp needle is rising. Then it's on the red. Not entirely unexpected, and I've taken the precaution of bringing water and coolant with me. So, I kept going in the hope of reaching a "service centre" on the side of the road. Which I did. Except that it's on the OTHER side of the road, which was a much use as a politician is to a pensioner.
Another few K's, expecting a cloud of steam and smoke to issue from under the bonnet at any moment, and we came upon a handy rest spot. Pulled up, and lifted the bonnet. Sizzling, bubbling noises from the radiator, smoke coming off the engine. The accumulated oil which has leaked from the rocker cover and side-plates over the years is now burning. The radiator cap is red-hot.
Lenn is exceptionally helpful - "Problem, buddy?". He's in no hurry, which is great. We've got time to let the car cool down.
Poured water over the radiator header tank until it cooled down enough to touch, then with my hands sort of protected by a huge wad of paper from the rest stop loo, I gingerly rotated the radiator cap to the first stop. Surprise - no gusher of scalding, rusty water! Off comes the cap, and...
...the bloody radiator was pretty much bone-dry. Unlike so many 40 year-olds, this one HADN'T retained water. Had a litre of coolant on me, and several bottles of water - and it took 'em all. And several refills from the taps in the rest stop loo, with Lenn and I forming a kind of ad-hoc, two-man bucket brigade.
On the positive side, not a leak to be seen once it was full.
Remembering the slippages, I checked the tranny fluid. Surprise, surprise - bone-dry. Had a litre on me, which I added. And burnt my arm doing so. Checked the engine oil - not much. Didn't have any of that on me, so I resolved to pull into the next servo and get some!
But, all fluids had been pretty much replenished, so the problem should be solved. Right? Of course not, stoopid. Have you learnt nothing so far?
Kicked her in the guts - she fires straight up, temp gauge is down to about 1/4. Off we went.
Got about five K's before I noticed smoke. Figured it was the engine still smoking. But, I could now smell it and it smelt acrid and electrical, and was getting worse. Smoke started billowing from under the dash. Pulled up, shut her down, and staggered out of the car, coughing. Lenn climbs out of the Magna - "Problem, buddy?".
(Back-story. Car had an LPG system fitted. It caused the car to overheat, so it was disconnected. A separate ignition switch was fitted, bypassing the one on the column. Lots of extra wiring under the dash).
Car's off, and there's no more smoke, but nothing's happening - the ignition switch isn't working anymore. I'm on the side of a major highway, 100 or so K's from Melbourne, with a dead car, and no tools. Not my idea of a happy Sun-dee arvo...
If necessary - and it appears to be - Lenn and I can get back to civilisation just fine in the Magna.
But, I don't want to leave the car there. We'd have to push it off the side of the road, which is kind of not an option - I'm as far over to the left as I can get, and the side of the road curves upward. Pushing a Valiant uphill is not an option. It's on a bend, and cars coming round it are getting uncomfortably close. I have visions of returning hours later to find a mangled heap of green scrap metal where my car used to be. And it's gonna be a pain in the ane organising a low-loader to get the Val back to the Big Smoke (no pun intended).
Back In My Yoof, I did an apprenticeship as a motor mechanic. I was awful. I've no patience at all with inanimate objects (as those who know me are well aware!), and that's a pretty basic failing for a profession which involves spending most of your day dealing with recalcitrant nuts and bolts. Basically, objects either bend to my will, or get trashed. There's a long history of destroyed VCR's, computers, and CD players which can attest to my lack of empathy with "things" - my prevailing philosophy is along the lines of "if I press the button, you WILL work. Or else".
That approach didn't work for me as an apprentice at the SEC - I remember getting out of an International truck with a persistent brake problem, and slamming the door so hard that the window shattered. And then there's the time I hurled a huge spanner in a fit of impotent rage and frustration, and damned near decapitated a passing leading hand...
I retained a basic, "backyard mechanic" level of knowledge, but there's a twist: the SEC was fairly heavily unionised, and the apprentice motor mechanics weren't allowed to ever touch electrics. So, I can change a head gasket, brakes, and all the most basic stuff - but know sod-all about electricals. Which is what the current problem was. ("current" - HAAAAA!!!).
Necessity being the Mother Of Invention, and Desperation being the Mother Of Necessity, I lift the bonnet in the hope of being able to nut something out. I figure I can mayyyybe run a wire from the battery to the coil, and then short the starter motor out with a screwdriver, and get her running that way.
I jump back into the driver's seat, and have a look at the aftermarket ignition switch, and have an idea (gleaned from watching all those Crawford cop shows). Can I bypass the ignition switch?
Hoicked the wires off the switch, and touched two together. Bingo - the dash lights come on. Touch the third one, and she starts! OK, problem solved. Lenn and I are both overjoyed. And I'm soberly aware that it's only the relatively simple mechanics of the car which have gotten me out of the hole - had it been a more recent vehicle, with the various engine management computers and electrics, I'd have been buggered.
I'm now using a jumper cable to hold all the wires together, and we're mobile. Granted, the indicators aren't working, and neither are the power windows (so I can't give hand signals), but she's at least moving, and at this point, that's all that matters. Lenn's behind in the hasn't-missed-a-beat Magna (well, it's sort of a Valiant...), so he can indicate for me. Off we go. Again.
Pull into a servo about 20 k's later - added another litre of tranny fluid, and a couple of litres of oil. No leaks anywhere. Clipped a wire off the defunct LPG system, plugged it into the fourth wire from the ignition switch, added it to the wires held by the jumper cable, and I've got indicators and windows back!
So, we're off again, with Lenn keeping station behind. And, after a while, the temp's up to the red again. But, by this point, I'm at Wallan, which is spitting distance from home. Pulled into the rest centre, and had some McChucks (was starving by this point!). Shouted Lenn lunch - the least I could do for all his patience!
Car had cooled down again, and basically stayed OK from that point on - needle was hovering around the "m" in "Temp", and didn't go any higher.
Apart from one very hairy moment where the route back onto the freeway consisted of a long, tight right-hander which saw me straddling both lanes at 90, trying to get the Valiant around it without understeering off to the left or oversteering off the the right (neither of which I'd have been able to save with the dodgy steering), we made it back to Melbourne just fine - eventually! I figure that's the worst it'll get, and it's all downhill from here.
And I even had my first taste of the positives of owning a classic car - I hear a "toot-toot" next to me, and look around to see a gent in a Ford Territory giving me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
But, hey - she's home!
But... Since getting home, I've walked out to her a few times to do minor bits and pieces. And each time I've walked out and seen her sitting there, I've gotten a huge grin on my face...
So, it all worked out. But if you ever hear me planning to buy an old car and drive it home, you have my permission to slap me across the face until I snap out of it!
posted by Dr. Keats at 11:52 pm
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