UPDATE JULY 4TH!
(And this one is an "Ed story", so you've been warned!)
After a busy Friday capped off by the first actual Cruise-In of the year (the first couple have been
rained out), Fred got some miles on him - enough that I decided it was time to finish this project...
once and for all...
one way or the other.
What was left, at least in my estimation, was the follow-up check/possible adjustment of any shoes
and more importantly, determining the status of the fluid in the system (and subsequent bleeding that
may or may not be needed).
When I awoke at the usual 2-something AM this morning and the right parts of me ached, I knew it was a
good day to roll around under Fred - I mean what the hell, they hurt already right?
Might as well give them a reason to...
I started off by informing my wife I was going under the car and not using jack stands, figuring the wheels
staying on performed that function, right?
She took it another way though -
"I best get out there, he's about to do something stupid again".
After consulting both John
@khryslerkid as well as the FSM, I determined kinda in between that if the brakes
showed any drag at all when the wheel was spun, it was good and to leave that part be - which they all did -
which I in turn did as well.
All seemed to be fine functionally...at least from the outside.
(Yes, this is foreshadowing - insert dramatic pause here).
Next, I grabbed the MightyVac or whatever that thing is and decided to one-man bleed things to have a look
at the fluid (which had less than 1K miles on it, far as I knew). The master cylinder and all the lines had been
replaced years ago, right before I bought Fred - but there was little actual mileage on any of that.
But...
When I found a freaking METRIC bleeder screw had been forced into the RR wheel cylinder by someone before
me though, things sort of went left field - in a hurry.
It turned out, the bleeder was 7mm (or 9/32 if you like). Sumbeech, I got no box or open-end for that size...
only sockets.
Oh well, get the thing loose and hook up the suck-n-vac, then finish off with a good old fashioned two-man
(or man-wife) operation, eh?
Yeah, well....about that:
The moment I opened that bleeder, then attached the vacuum jobber, the fluid that came out was MUD BROWN.
Not a little dirty....not even moderately filthy....but MOCHA, man.
I gave my wife a quick refresher course on manning the master cylinder/fluids and as she kept the master full,
I kept pulling nasty, rotten fluid through the line.
She accidentally let the reservoir go dry once, then proclaimed from the front of Fred "it's NASTY in this thing,
too!"
Well, of course it was....so she took a paper towel to it until it was clean inside as well, then we resumed...
and eventually, clean fluid emerged from my end of the circuit.
Hallelujah.
We then bled....and bled....and bled, with me and the underside of Fred eating some premium petroleum
products and she proclaimed the pedal good.
Figuring the drivers' side would be similar, I tossed all the miscellaneous toolage to that side, then just rolled
like a log over to that side, rather than get up.
The wife started to make a joke about calling Greenpeace for help. I "AHEMED" her out of that notion, real
quick-like.
I was greeted on the drivers' side rear to *gasp* a normal-sized bleeder screw!
Naturally, this meant all the tools I had under there now didn't fit.
So much for not climbing out of there...*sigh*
I'm getting pretty nasty at this point. The wife is only growing more bemused.
Ol' "Phoenix risin' from the ashes" dug out the right tools and set back in there....and things went much
better this time!
Woah hold it....now the wife pronounces the pedal has gotten worse. MUCH worse.
Up I climb again, back to the bench, fetch the metric crap, back under the passenger side again.
Wife fills the master again and we bleed the RR - AGAIN.
First time, wife now announces the pedal is ROCK HARD.
Well, far be it for me to question her judgement on such a thing, right?
Why it took that sequence to get it to that point, beats me.
It just did - this time - with this car - and this floundering walrus underneath it.
From there, things went quite routinely at the front sides. Both ran clear pretty quickly and bled fine and
the wife kept saying "you're not gonna believe this pedal!"
I purposely ignore that and instead cleaned up everything, put it all away, checked for leaks, refilled the
master - anything but step on that pedal myself.
Why? Morbid fear, I imagine. I was too nasty, pissed off, sore and hot at that point.
She takes off for the house, dog in tow, headed for the a/c - and THEN I headed for the brake pedal, half
expecting the worst.
*sigh* "Ok Fred, what you got for me?" *flinch*
Hit it - and that pedal was, indeed, "rock hard".
Hmmm.... ok, went off to clean up some more and came back a few minutes later....
Hit it again - and that sumbeech is STILL high and firm, first pump!
I'll be damned....
I head in to the house and she gives me that look of anticipation, wanting to see me happy from all the
wrestling that has just occurred - and I won't crack a smile. Nothing.
I go wash up in the kitchen sink, just like I've always done since I was a teen in mama's kitchen, using
dishwasher liquid and a scotchbrite, staring out the window - and remembering.
I've always done that because I saw my Pop do that, time and again, when I was growing up.
It's just something a kid grows into, emulating his dad... doesn't even think about it.
It also occurred to me then that this was the
end of
the brake project - and
probably the last time I'll ever
attempt such a task - and it actually had turned out as well as I had hoped it would.
I did give my wife the satisfaction of my grinning in satisfaction - but she saw the melancholy in my eyes, too.
Thanks to everyone who followed along with me in this nonsense - or takes the time to read it in future
years. As you can see, it wasn't just an exercise in working on an old car - but it never is really, is it?
-Ed