The Long Hot Summer of Spool Bus: Re-Accessorizing My Most Neglected Problem Child

Haven’t heard that name in a while, right? It seems like after renovating the fuel system way back in 2021, Spool Bus just kind of vanished off this website, except for appearing as background set in photos occasionally. That is because Spool Bus became sort of an unsung hero of the Old and New Robot Trap House: it was principally in charge of all the 𝕿𝖗𝖚𝖈𝕶 𝕾𝖙𝖚𝖋𝖋:

After all, can’t have my white elephant doing any work or something. Once the summer’s worth of mechanical work was completed, Spool Bus was simply a well-running and driving truck, albeit one with many peripheral functions missing or worn out. But that means I didn’t feel bad chucking scrap metal (above) or rocks and concrete waste (below) into it.

It is kinda nice to have something you don’t really feel bad subjecting to this kind of “throw it in and send it” treatment. Like, there wasn’t really anything I could do to Spool Bus to make it consummately worse than it already was, with gaping floor rust holes, almost every dashboard instrument dead, and a bed made of 3/16″ thick plate steel. And with that mechanical service front-loaded in 2020 and 2021, my usage cases were really so light-duty for the platform that I barely even touched it for all sorts of maintenance since.

This isn’t to say Spool Bus was only pulled out once in a prime number collision for some menial task. It not only participated in meme recoveries including, in this very year, the most arduous van recovery mission I’ve ever taken on (More on that story later), but I also regularly brought it around to local car shows… or just took it to the Tail of the Dragon for fun while chasing the Lemons Rally.

But gradually, the grievances did pile up. When I said “nothing in the dashboard worked”, I meant it. It had no turn signal pilot lights (though the blinkers and lights themselves worked), and the oil pressure and thermostat gauges were inoperable.

The wipers only ran very slowly if I hit a pothole in the correct way, a sign of the motor being just totally spent.

The HVAC blend selector was stuck on heat with the lever broken, so I had the choice (when the blower motor was actually working, needing a different pothole impact angle to work) of Hot or Even Hotter.

The vacuum system was so weak that said HVAC system could rarely get out of defrost mode, and I only had one pump of power brake assist available. This probably meant the brake booster canister was bad as well.

The front fuel tank’s feed line probably had a crack in the hose, because it pulled air instead of fuel and would aerate the fuel system nearly instantly if I switched to the front tank. So I really only had the rear tank available (whose gauge only reads below 1/4th, else it reads zero).

Let’s just say it was just getting really bad and uncomfortable to operate on the regular. So, in May, before the weather started entering truly hot and steamy territory, I decided to embark on the LONG HOT SUMMER OF SPOOL BUS, a quest to eradicate as many of these problems as possible.

At minimum, I needed a working HVAC system and wipers. Even if the air conditioning is toast, the Econoline’s front vents are not wimpy and at least lets things be survivable (Mikuvan’s front blower motor is very weak with wear/age, making it pretty deathy to drive in summer besides being deathy to drive in general).

So, I focused on those problems first. I pulled a wiper motor from a junkyard van many moons ago because it was right in front of me, and the intent is to just change it out while keeping the old motor for a future rebuild, as chances are high it simply ran out of brushes.

To do the HVAC selector/blend door system, I had to do a deep dive and take apart the entire thing from both ends, in order to reach and inspect the broken Bowden cable that connected them. So back to the scene I’ve been presented with many times…

Like I said before, I had no beef at all with how Spool Bus drove. Arguably it starts and runs better than Vantruck does (I have long suspected that this is not its original engine, and it had a proper rebuild or reman engine dropped not too long before it went in-op), and the little Banks turbo adds like 7 butt-horsepower and convincing sound effects. But this is definitely the layout that made me try out the low-mounted twins of Snekvan, then Vantruck, through Operation IDIocracy.

Knocking the dashboard down was easy enough, although the (sporadically working) radio is annoying because all the knobs have to be removed first to unscrew its faceplate. The HVAC selector pod is below the radio, so removing it is required.

On the passenger side, removing the blower motor and its cover is just a few screws. This allowed me to peek into the absolutely filthy poop-encrusted blower box and heater core housing.

That foam covered door is what moves when the temperature lever is pulled, and I think at some point it might have become stuck and then the cable broke internally. That, or the mounts cracked off. Either way, it was free to move at this point already.

The blower motor and fan wheel dismantled well for being rusty and 40+ years old. As I suspected, the motor simply became brushless over time. I had a replacement I bought a while ago, so this pile of motor got put in a Giant McMaster-Carr Bag for future rework.

I mean, all it really needs is brushes and maybe some oiling of the bearings. They’re just too simple to truly die.

To get to the Bowden cable that moved the flap, I had to remove the blower housing, which fortunately was just a couple more screws but required very close-quaters van combat above where the dashboard pad covers everything. Nothing but a few plastic-threading screws here though. The Dremel was needed to cut new drive slots into several internal panel screws which were thoroughly rusted.

(This was also a great chance to vacuum, air blast, and somewhat pressure-wash this whole box out because who knows how many animals have pooped in it over the years)

Interestingly enough, the Bowden cable was still fixed and working on the blower box end… but on the selector side, the Z-bend that used to connect it to the lever was snapped off. So, it might just have been fatigue over time.

The problem was that the small plastic snap that anchored the cable housing (so it could do the Bowden push-pull thingie) was also cracked apart. This meant the cable housing couldn’t stay in place any more.

Nothing a large, healthy blob of Sugru couldn’t remedy. At the same time, I noticed that the selector valve itself was slowly cracking open at the seam between the black and pink housings.

This probably helped explain why it would barely switch over, as it would just be a massive vacuum leak. I solved this by cracking it open the rest of the way, then putting a big ring of CA glue around the former factory joint and clamping it together.

My solution to the broken Z-bend problem required a big of digging into some very old parts bins…

I was just going to use a model airplane pushrod connector. In doing this, I sacrifice about 3/8″ of travel off the lever, so “Mostly Hot” is fully hot, but this worked perfectly on the cold (a.k.a Still Mostly Hot) side.

Getting the Bowden cable housing screwed in again on the other side, though, was one of those “double blind” van wrenching operations.

The first blind is visual because you can’t actually see what you’re doing because you have to face the other direction for your arms to bend the correct way. The second blind is tactile because you have to feel for where the screw hole is while simultaneously making sure the little plastic tabs line up, and all of this operation is occurring near where your fingers’ Jacobian matrix is as singular as you are.

But luckily, after enough wiggling, the Bowden cable was anchored on both sides again, and I regained control as to whether Spool Bus blew Warm or Warmer air into my face. As I said, the lever stops about 3/4 of the way up the Hot mark, but that is nothing a strip of black Gorilla tape can’t fix by visually blocking the rest of the way!

Alrighty, next task. It’s windshield wiper time! To remove the motor, I had to dismantle the windshield cowling which necessitated some Advanced Fastener Extraction techniques in some areas because the 40 year old Phillips head self-tapping metal screws had basically become smooth-head rivets from corrosion.

After the cowling comes off, most of the wiper mechanism is immediately accessible from the top.

The linkages and bushings were in surprisingly good shape without much slop. They’re held together by these funny little clip-on retaining rings, which were all on the borderline of disintegrating – if they do vanish, I’d just replace them with regular snap rings or E-clips. I took both of the linkages apart and cleaned and regreased them anyway.

The motor itself is removed from the inside underneath the dashboard. As you can see, there’s a pretty clear (for a van) path to getting its mounting scr….

No, just kidding. This is what the view ACTUALLY looks like when you start.

The shop books suspiciously skip over the fact that you have to dismantle out the fuse block, its little mounting bracket, the ground fanout bracket (on the upper right), and disconnect the brake light switch and cruise control vacuum switch. And, on top, the left side dashboard panel has to be removed and the ventilation duct behind it as well, which means you’re disconnecting the headlight combo switch and wiper switch too. All it says is “Remove Motor”.

Y’know, I’m starting to think I thought this was an easy job because the junkyard van already had all of those things stripped out by someone… so I was just looking at the wiper motor, going “Ah, yes, there’s nothing in the way!”

I took apart the junkyard motor for a quick visual once-over and to clean up and re-lubricate all of the gears and bushings (compare it at the top with Spool Bus’s motor with its totally dried out and crusty gearbox).

The parking switches on these things are just embedded variants of a self-stopping limit switch circuit, something I would do with a discrete snap-action or button switch or something.

The motor is able to receive 12V power through the normally-closed contact (shown in this position) via the springy copper strip until the little plastic finger pushing on it falls into a specifically placed divot on the drive gear. Once it’s in the divot, the strip gets pushed onto the normally-open contact (below the finger, with two little rivets).

At this point, the motor stops moving until the intermittent wiper controller clicks its relay, and that supplies a momentary pulse of power through this N/O contact, just long enough to get the motor moving and getting the finger out of the divot – at which point the motor runs as normal until it comes back around.

It’s definitely a very analog and old school way of doing limited-range motion without a modern encoder-equipped motor and its control module. Stuff like this still has a lot of appeal to me, because while it’s not very in-field configurable and changeable, it…. just works.

As with the blower, this motor has totally exhausted its brushes and only works if I smack it a few times, enough for the remaining stump to make contact (which is why I had to selectively hit potholes and curbs to get the wipers to cycle). So some time later I’ll pop it open and do that service and rebuild, including perhaps machining the commutator.

After SIGNIFICANT WIGGLING, I got the mounting screws lined up and piloted. These old rubber bushings are not very friendly when it comes to lining things up, and to make it worse, they’re in incomplete sockets (C shape, not a fully surrounding hole) so they like to fall out as I am trying to hold the motor with one pinky finger.

And the rest was simple. Now, when I said this self-parking motor circuit was “simple and just works”, I meant “Wow this motor just is doing whatever the hell it wants”. Some times, it takes 2 or 3 tries by the intermittent wiper controller for it to finally start doing the go-around thing. Other times, it parks and stops at this awkwardly high position. But after who knows how long, I could actually see in the rain again!

(As of September, this issue has largely resolved, and I think it was because the wiper motor contacts were probably old and not making good connections)

We’re not done yet, though. Not long after this round of work, one of the funniest van failure modes I’d ever experienced ended up requiring some Operation IDIocracy inspired shenanigans to recover from…

Operation IDIocracy: Vantruck’s Patch 1.1 Release Notes and the Doing of the Thing

Imagine, if you will, that it was still approximately March and I still had not reinstalled that clear acrylic cupholder thing as I said I needed to do from the hitlist… so I’ve been running around completely cupholder-less all winter.

Here it is, on the same shelf it’s been sitting on for 10 months…

Well, the useful daylight is back and my spring mountain shitposting rally is coming up in a few weeks. It was time to get to work on that list! The original post was quite long and a little more of a bunch of complaints. Over about the ~2000 miles after the first bootups and test drives, I got to know everything well enough to start determining what was a ‘bug’ and what was just expected behavior.

For example, yes… the E4OD is just that doofy feeling and I’d need to have some modded parts installed and likely go to the aftermarket control options if I wanted less sloshy behavior. It’s just a 1980s 4-speed truck transmission based on a 1970s 3-speed one.

The remaining salient points were related to quality of life and operation. It was still too arcane to use, and I wanted to bring things to a “walk-away” state at a minimum. I therefore considered the following items still relevant from the beginning.

  • The little Facet clicker pumps I was using for oil bilging, as robust as they were to date, definitely had to go. I’m going to replace them with a single motor pump which will add a lot more flow capacity and the power overhead to push through the unrefined maple syrup that 15W-40 (and really even 5W-40) becomes when it gets cold.
  • I needed to put the oil bilging system on a timer circuit such that it will keep running for 10-20 seconds after I power down. I was accomplishing this by cycling the key to on/run and waiting for that much time, but that gets annoying and also was forcing the glow plug circuit to cycle as well, each time.

Those were what I called the “big design points”. I also came up with some relatively minor bugs to address:

  • I wanted to reroute the PCV system upstairs to a point immediately behind the air filter, in the interest of eventually figuring out an oil catch can system. Vantruck currently nibbles on engine oil at a rate of about 1 quart per 1000 miles, largely a consequence of me stuffing boost into a high blow-by engine design and having two turbochargers worth of foamy, aerated oil coming back in. The compressor housing and inlet of the left turbo is always wet with oil at the moment, and it’s definitely annoying.
  • I retained the internal-regulator alternator from the 460 big block because I didn’t want to mess with the externally regulated alternator wiring. It’s a smaller physical frame size and so doesn’t like to charge with the slightly lower idle speed of the IDI. I’ll need to either swap alternators or regear it slightly with a smaller pulley.
  • I wanted to relieve two sharp bends that the Boingy Hose™ had to make exiting the compressors, replacing them with silicone elbows instead. I didn’t want the highly strained hose layers at these bends to eventually become a weak spot.

Those last three are pretty easy, but the first two needed design work. Let’s begin! First, the relay that will save my empire:

This is an adjustable time-delay relay that is found under a couple of brands. Fundamentally, it’s a little timer circuit connected to a coil driver, and you can get them in various timer setups (e.g. delay off-to-on, on-to-off, one shot for a number of seconds, and so on).

This one is a delay on-to-off variant, meaning it will turn on instantly with a signal at the trigger input, but will hold the contacts closed for some amount of time once the trigger signal is removed. Under the black lid is a trimpot that lets me set the delay-off time in seconds. Not super accurately, but for random process control functions, it’s perfectly fine.

The CATBOI (Complicated Automatic Turbo Bilge Operating Interface)

Contrary to Pentagon committees, I spent about 37 seconds thinking of that one. It came to me while I was assessing the edibility of an indigestion (that’s the collective noun) of QuikTrip roller grill egg rolls, my comfort food of choice. I ended up selecting four of the strongest of the litter.

Anyways, now that I’ve eliminated any possibility of this post being picked up by a mainstream automotive news website… What I was looking for was a bit more complicated of a state machine than “run for a bit after key off”.

  • If I key to ACC, or ON/RUN without the engine running, the bilge pump should only run for a few seconds. I don’t want it to just stay on the entire time if I were just hanging around powered down.
  • If the key is in ON/RUN with the engine running, it should stay on. Or, there should be a means to bypass it completely such as an oil pressure activated switch.
  • If I key off, it will keep running for a few seconds.

Ah hell… something about a thousand words. Just look at the state table in the drawing:

To achieve this goal, I dug around on the Internet™ and found some circuits that let you make a “one shot” pulse using two relays. That way, turning the key to ACC or ON/RUN will only trigger the delay-off function of the timer relay once.

PSW1 is an oil pressure switch that is closed when pressurized and open otherwise. It’s wired to completely bypass the pulse generator relays, just keeping high (12V) on the trigger input of the timer relay. Strictly speaking, it’s called a “Oil pressure safety switch” – the combination of words needed to find a normally open pressure actuated switch for some reason.

You’d think it would be the other way around… Normally closed and wired to alarm or warning light, and otherwise kept open by oil pressure if the engine is running normally.

I rigged up this bench test of the circuit to make sure everything worked the way I thought it would. The two toggle switches simulate keying ON/RUN and PSW1.

Notice the little motor that’s in the middle (to the left of the three relay bank). I found out that the one-shot pulse generator was too fast, and the timer relay discarded the trigger as noise. Adding the motor inline between the pulse generator relays “stretched” the pulse by forcing the second relay to take longer to switch.

The circuit otherwise worked as I had drawn out. Flip the ON/RUN switch, the green motor at the right runs for about 10 seconds. Flip the PSW1 switch and the green motor stays running. Unflip both switches, and the motor stays running for about 10 seconds.

I dug around my mental illness hoard treasure trove and found an adjustable inductor from some unknown application that had approximately the characteristics of the motor winding. It couldn’t be too high in resistance, or the second pulse generator relay would never trip. But if it were low enough resistance, most of the time the inductance was too low to pull the pulse long enough.

And yes, I did try “Just wire another relay’s coil in between”, but that fell on the “too high resistance to trigger any more” side of the hill.

I sacrificed one of the other automotive relays in my boomer unicorn figure collection Electronic Components Archive and simply soldered the inductor in place of the former relay coil. It was then encased in moldable glue putty.

There. Nobody will ever know you aren’t a relay.

I ordered a small relay and fuse box enclosure to make the final wiring according to the circuit diagram. These are all over the Bezos-Net and eBay and seem to be a genericized part.

I found one problem. The timer relay is extra tall and hence doesn’t fit in the enclosure. Soooo…… what now? Order a different one? See if I can mount it sideways?

Nah, I just marked the location of the relay with a paint marker and transferred it to the cover while it was still wet. Then I took a hole saw to it, forever ruining any sort of weatherproofness this box ever had

(None. It had none. The back of it is open, and the lid has no gasket. The wire exit has no grommet either.

I terminated the wires in various flavors of Weather-Pack connector. There’s only four connectors: One for power in (12V), one for the oil pressure switch, one motor output, and one input signal for the Hot In ACC/RUN (HIAR) circuit of the ignition switch.

By some weird alignment of the Chinesium-rich asteroids, I found that Vantruck already HAD a set of fender through-holes that somehow lined up exactly with this generic Amazon relay box. Down to the planar offset of the two mounting ears, even.

What the… Was this relay box a knockoff of some generic U.S. auto industry hole pattern from the 60s-70s? Maybe, because this was where the “Duraspark” ignition control module of the 460 went, so perhaps it was actually shaped for an existing standard. A lot of Chinesium automotive products seem to have similar traits to this: They were bred from vintage American car parts and continue the bloodline today in genericized forms.

The motorized bilge pump’s mechanical integration was next. I already owned one of these generic gear pump looking things from a round of candidate parts purchasing in 2022 after Snekvan was put together.

You see the nice ones for sale at the bottom center and top left? Yeah, I don’t have those.

For a while, I used it for…. pump stuff. Transferring oil around, siphoning my own gas tanks, siphoning everyone el’ yeah anyways.

Now it comes time to mount it to Vantruck’s frame. After some scurrying around underneath, I identified a location close to the front right of the engine mounting crossmember where it could hang out and be close to the turbos, but also have a clear shot upstairs to the oil return fitting I put into the timing gear cover.

I cooked up this BRACKET™ to mount the motor by its four base-mount holes and attach to the crossmember using a through-bolt. It’s made of the moist remnants of a reel of carbon fiber nylon. Nothing very strenuous, and the through-bolt captures all of the layers together so I’m not dependent on layer strength to hang a heavy motor from.

It sits here, nested right by the right-hand intake and immediately aft of the suspension swingarm. A tee fitting joins the two turbo drains at the pump inlet. The pump outlet has a check valve facing upwards, so any oil that is ejected but remains in the ~3 foot vertical rise section of the hose doesn’t just start coming over and sleeping on the couch again swearing it’ll get its act together soon.

A couple of feet of oil/fuel hose later, and I was ready for business. The business:

Yep, I decided to crack the dashboard open again and make good on a promise I made to myself last year: NO BOOMER WIRING. Epithets aside, y’all know what I mean: Avoiding the pile of spaghetti almost all project car wiring devolves into.

Well, to even access the HIAR circuit at all, I had to tap the ignition switch circuit and the only way to do that was to open the dashboard up.

From the 1986 factory wiring diagram, I selected circuit 297 as the HIAR candidate since it also had a convenient breakout point where power is supplied to several existing circuits.

I then extended the pages of my notebook dedicated to the LEWD (something something Jalopnik will not run this one uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu… LEWD, CATBOI, where will it end?) with a new definition for the timer module. I found that my C-218 had an empty spot where presumably some option wasn’t checked when the chassis eventually becoming Vantruck was ordered.

And so, I commandeered it for the timer module. I ran the connection using one of the several extra redundant wires embedded into the LEWD, for just such an occasion. My notebook diagram notation is in the same style as the 1980s Ford schematic for consistency.

Really the only thing after the dashboard interfacing was finding enough wire to make it across the engine bay and down the side. For such a long run, I wanted to up the wire size from 16-18 gauge, so I picked up some new spools of 12 gauge primary wire. These don’t actually fit into the Weather-Pack housings, but I made it work with some squeezing…

Alright, well NO BOOMER WIRING sure lasted 15 minutes. I officially have ONE wire that runs outside of the big bundle! It goes from the timer module to the pump motor. It’s all over.

Time to fire it up and test it and oh…

Oh nyo. This pump just doesn’t even. It would seem like all this time I’ve been transferring fluids with minimum upstream pressure – basically free flow. The check valve adds a little bit of “cracking pressure” (forward voltage, if you will) and that seems to have made the rickety cover plate of the pump unhappy. Oil was dripping slowly but surely out the sides as it ran.

I found out why, too. The plate wasn’t even flat. It was bowed downwards at the corners, where presumably the piece was in the punching die. This meant the O-ring behind it barely, if ever, sealed. I’m guessing the pumps that cost more than $69 don’t have this problem.

Oh well – if you burn through the cheap Chinesium thing, it’s time to buy a real one (also still likely made in China but to slightly more emotional support when growing up)

My solution was simply to turn the plate around so the corners bowed upwards away from the pump surface. Then when I tightened the screws, it became preloaded instead. This, of course, caused the pump gears to jam and I had to run it in for a half hour to free it up again.

(Easily predictable future failure…. noted for the world to see)

The other small kibbles

The motor pump and timer circuit both worked as anticipated, so I now had what I called “walk away” ability: I can just power down and walk away. The pump keeps pulling for about 10 seconds after the fact, and I can leave it on ACC mode too and it won’t keep running forever.

With that mission achieved, I moved onto my other small points of annoyance.

I designed a small right angle fitting to be 3D printed from nylon. One end accepts a hose with a bead-ish end, and the other is supposed to press fit and gently snap into a hole drilled into the air filter. The air filter will have a hole drilled into the top, in a bit of a homage to the original snekvan integration.

The PCV hose now gets rerouted above-board towards the driver’s side. It’s the chunky black hose coming from the center of the intake area here.

I used a GM 6.5 CDR valve (part number CV916) which has hose fittings on both sides, unlike the Ford/International part number which is supposed to be clamped to a bushing. This made the interface easier than the janky approach I took with Snekvan with flaring out a hose around the short bushing nipple.

Only downside is that the hose size is a little awkward: It best fits a 7/8″ or 22mm hose, which is not super commonly found except in very thick wall (think gas station dispenser hose) rubber with steel armoring. I ended up finding some short lengths on eBay. A barb fitting in the middle between this hose and the air filter changes it to a 3/4″ diameter.

(It was tempting to use coolant/heater hose instead, since those come in 7/8″… but be well aware they are different kinds of rubber and the coolant/heater hose will disintegrate if it’s put into contact with hot oil fumes)

The Fitting™ completed and implanted into the driver’s side air filter. I’ll need to keep an eye on this filter over the next few thousand miles, since it’ll likely slowly collect oil gunk in it and could clog up quicker than the other side. If I were to dream up an oil catch system, it’ll likely live above this filter.

Next up was correcting the sharp bend in the Boingy Hose™. The tightest bend it makes, where the spring reinforcement is basically touching itself, is on the driver’s side. I was going to replace it with a 2″ silicone elbow, and to do that I need couplers. Out comes the ol’ eBay bead roller and a chunk of exhaust pipe.

The 2″ silicone elbow had one leg cut short, just long enough to accommodate the T-bolt clamps.

Here is the bend installed and the Boingy Hose™ reattached orthogonally to where it used to be. This allowed me to control the bend radius but more importantly the offset. Previously, with the Boingy Hose™ left loose to Boing, it tended to wander close to the unshielded exhaust downpipe and turbo inlet area. I didn’t want this thermal gradient causing long-term aging and fatigue problems.

I also just replaced the left hose entirely since it’s already been beat up some by me pushing and poking at it. Now, with the silicone coupler starting it in the right position, its bends are less severe and I better constrained it in the middle and near the top.

I decided to skip doing the right side for now, as the bend was much less sharp (about the same as the silicone elbow) and it actually required removing the whole downpipe assembly. I’ll revisit this later when it pops in a very inconvenient location!

Finally, with the system basically reassembled, I popped the alternator belt and pulley off to full send the last item on the agenda.

When pulley too large, simply make pulley smaller. I threw it on Tinylathe and set the compound slide to the V-belt flank angles and had at it. I made the pulley 10 percent smaller in pitch diameter to increase the alternator speed a little beyond a 460 big block at idle. Hopefully this will give me a bit extra margin as well.

…….and of course, I did my usual here. I mean, every industrial pulley you buy seems to be painted or powder coated in the belt bath. I guess it just rubs off quickly?

And that’s it for what I called Vantruck’s “v1.1 Patch” while I was working on it to various people in my social groups. Patch is now live, devs listened, mods are asleep.

Maybe some day I’ll make a jackbolt style tensioner for this thing like Econocrane had (and which I made for Spool Bus) but that night wasn’t the night. A big wrench to grab the alternator ear it was! Because that coming weekend, April 6th, was the Doing of the Thing…

And the Thing Was Did

Bright and early (for me. Read: 11:45am) and on the war path to Robbinsville, NC. There were no more excuses. I’ve trusted this thing for just under a year now, and it’s been all over the place in the Atlanta area and done a little bit of everything. I know it inside and out.

And so, Vantruck checks off the last box in my typical christening ceremony:

  • ✅ Go buy your own parts (local roads, lower speeds, short distances)
  • ✅ Go to McMaster-Carr (nearby, optional highway)
  • ✅ Go buy me boba (cross metro, mostly highways, but within Oops-I-Didn’t-Tighten-The radius)
  • ✅ Tail of the Dragon (no mercy, burn the ships)

That was great! Well, for some definition of “Great”. Here it is after the northbound pass! I popped the hood to let things cool down some more and had some very enthusiastic onlookers to entertain.

It was every bit as terrifying as I remember it back in 2019. But now it was faster, almost comically quick for something its size. With all new shock absorbers, it didn’t bounce much either. As a result, I began cooking probably hotter than I should have, the dually rear end helping immensely with stability. It had enough torque to throw the rear end out on at least two of the hairpins, much to my 1. abject horror the first time, and 2. unmitigated giddiness the second time.

I came in with roughly even wear across the steer tires and left with the outer halves of the tread basically scrubbed clean. This I feel is largely the effect of the Ford double-cross-T-Rex-arms swing-axle style front suspension they call the Twin I-Beam, which seems adept at pointing your axles in random directions.

The Press Photos

Forget anyone else, this is what I have been waiting to see for over 2 years!

First off, we have the “See photographer, squeeze the goose” shot. The IDI will shoot out a bit of “diesel puff” from overfueling before the boost rises to match it. It gets the point across without being too obnoxious. This is not a coal roll tune – if a mechanical diesel were set up for that much fuel, it would be undriveable and be billowing smoke all the time.

Second, the hero shot/poster shot! The lighting on this one was absolutely perfect and the composition really evokes the wallowing school bus dynamic.

And finally, we have the “oh, so that’s why 1/2 of my front tires are missing the tread” shot. Behold, the 90% A/R sidewall tuck. I actually inflated the fronts all the way to 80 PSI and they still got this bad.

I went northbound and then southbound and then HONESTLY, THAT’S ENOUGH FOR ME. I’ve said that driving this thing on the Dragon is not pleasant in the least, and after this point it’s only a ‘Have To, not Want To” activity. It was to say I did it and the “project” can officially close.

This was a fun little day trip. I hung around the resort/tourist trap area for another hour or so to cater to curious onlookers, and was off the mountain around sunset. I took the somewhat relaxing, less mountain descent in the dark route of highway 515 because I was just fed up with throwing the steering wheel 690 degrees every 15 seconds.

We All Know What’s Next: The Spring Pile of 2024

I lied. Every ship of the line also has to do the funny thing after the final commissioning, which is obtain another copy of itself. This is the inaugural pile of the New Robot Trap House, a 1988 E350 which was christened in my terrible van group chat as Uploaf (spelled ⬆️🍞, as emoji spelling is considered a must)

Yep! I keep a pulse all over the Former Confederacy for discarded 3rd-generation IDI van chassis based things, and just so happened to find one in Birmingham, Alabama. Just two hours away, and even for $800 in This Unprecedented Economy. Hell, it’s like inflation never hit. Vans are a stablecoin, and I will stand by those words. A running, driving Ford cargo van is always worth $3-5K to somebody, and the apocalypse diesel can command a significant premium if you find an apocalypse-oriented buyer.

I didn’t know that the way between Birmingham and Atlanta actually had mountains. I thought it was just flat, but apparently looking on a topology map, the Apple Asian Mountains do reach down this far. On the way there I was definitely thinking there were going to be a few hills that hurt on the way back. But Vantruck made it disturbingly easy to accelerate up the highway grade while pulling this thing along. I practiced riding the EGT danger zone (keeping it 1200 degrees F or less for continuous use) pulling up long slopes. I don’t think Vantruck will do this very often, but it’s good to know its limits. And after the whipping on the Dragon, I trusted the running gear for just about anything.

As usual (and my preference!), it was Ran When Parked and left some place for over a decade before someone said to get rid of the junk. Good… don’t fuck it up for me by trying to fix it. They definitely tried though, as the engine lid was off and the transmission was drained (huh?) and the battery terminals looked recently replaced. Whatever the case, it really didn’t need anything besides fully charging the batteries, pre-priming the mostly dry fuel system, then just snorting the funny spicy canned air until something lights off.

Uploaf might have been my first commissioned pile. I sold it in June, not to a random Internet stranger, but to two of my friends from Ohio who had the nerve to fly down on one-way plane tickets to DRIVE it back to Cleveland.

What? Are you guys literally insane from huffing microplastics?

I did a fair bit of shoring-up work beyond just getting it running and driving for this reason. I provided a “warranty” and a free escort up to the Bucee’s not far from the Tennessee line, and then it ain’t my problem no more! Based on the chat history, it seems like they made it all the way to Columbus, OH before the alternator belt fell off and hilarity ensued. They got back… eventually.

(Now that it’s fall, I’m thinking of doing a Fall Fix n’ Flip of a similar nature. Or, buying Econocrane back from Speedycop…)