Hell, we don need no stinkin jack.....
Hello folks..what town was I in? Oh yea, somewhere out in the Mohave..
(from last episode). "With dad and his brother being the oldest, it fell to them to get em out of this delima, and it was a delima. Sun wasn't up yet. Early to bed, early to rise as they say. Besides, better get started before the sun came up. It gets hot quick. REAL hot."
Dad woke up first. He was used to it, as his chore everyday was to gather some firewood and light it. Everyone had their chores. Dad and his brother Joe slept on the ground with just a canvas cover in between them and the ground, and one blanket between them. Joe was sick too, but not from the food. He'd fought a bout with reumatic fever when he was 6 years old. Not good. Never was the same again but you know how kids are. He was 10 now and tried to do everything every other 10 year old tried. This morning he was sick, but he knew they were in a pickle. He asked Dad what they were going to do. Dad told him the truth. He didn't have a clue. But what ever it was, they better git on it, cause the suns comin up. But he knew what was first. Same as any other day, get some firewood and light it. Grandma was stirring now, and you didn't want to rile grandma. She was part German and part Irish. Damn, she could get cranky, especially before she had her coffee. Hence the firewood.
You know, its strange, you can be in the desert with temps over a 100 in the day, but at night, it can get downright cold sometimes. This was one of those mornings. And when ya got no shoes, well, you can imagine. Wind was up too. Blowin across those rocky old foothills like a lizards breath. Every one was beginning to get up now. Aunt Pat, Aunt Agnas and the baby, slept in the back of the truck. Uncle John, slept in the cab cause he was small.
Aunt Pat was up now too. Since the boys were busy fiddlin with the
fire, her job was fillin the coffee pot and getting things out for some day old biscuits and Karo syrup. Most days, this was breakfast. Sundays was hotcakes if they had milk and eggs. But not this Sunday. Besides, most everyone was still queesy from the dinner, or maybe some bacteria in the water. Who knows. Aunt Pat was still wearing her homemade bandage from stubbing her big toe on a rock. It bled pretty good, and after walking in the dirt, it was real funky. Hurt too. But you know kids. Grandma had cleaned the cut up, but after an hour in the dirt, the bandage was coming off. She finally just removed it and got on with her chores.
After some breakfast, Dad asked grandpa what to do. Granpa was still laying in his homemade "tent". Wouldn't do nothin to keep out the rain, but it was privacy for grandma mostly, and kept the wind off of them. Granpa told Dad to find a bucket to drain the oil and gather up the tools. Drain the oil? Well, when grandpa told you to do something, you had better think. Otherwise he might get mad. Grouchy ole Irishman syndrome I think. I suffer from the same disease.
Dad and Joe had been around granpa when he worked on the truck engine before. They remembered the head gasket job. Grandpa was real angry when he did that one. Scraped knuckles make for thrown wrenches and lots of cussing. They didn't remember draining the oil, but they remembered him draining something.. Grandpa pulled off a hose to do it. Thats when the liquid drained out but Dad was too busy looking at the engine. He remembered wondering what all those things were for.. but like grandpa always said, standing around wasn't going to get it done so they best git busy. Time to open the hood.
Dad was nervous, but he'd been interested in mechanical things from the time he was real young. He even fixed the hand water pump back in Oaklahoma. He was 8 at the time. Grandpa was gone, and they'd just moved in to an old farmhouse. It was better than the last house though. Even had a water pump at the kitchen sink. Grandma was in seventh heaven. Man, modern conviences. Ha! But the pump wasn't pumping anything. They thought maybe the well had gone dry. Dad thought about it. He found an old pipe wrench and opened it up. Thirst makes for thinking hard and trying things. Dad looked at it. VOILA!! He got a bucket and walked out to the pond, which was actually the farm animal watering hole. A small creek had been damned up years before, which made a small pond, but this time of year it was almost dry. Still enough to dip the bucket into though. Thats all he needed. Now, I'm no pump expert. Hell, I'd been stuck, but not Dad. Somehow he figured out it just needed to be primed. How he knew that I don't know. But he did. In 20 minutes they had fresh water pourin out of that old pump in abundance. Little miracles.
He wished for a miracle today. They needed it. The sun was over the horizon now and the light was right on the truck. Old black steel gets hot quick, but Dad was still cold and the rays from the sun felt good. To this day Dad hates being cold, cause he spent a good portion of his childhood cold. He opened the hood and looked. How would you drain the oil. Hell, where was the oil, thats the question. He looked hard. Dads lesson #1 over the years. LOOK!!. I've never forgotten it to this day. Hell, thats how I fixed the Mustang clutch quadrant yesterday. But to a kid facing fixing something he knew nothing about, I'm sure he was bewildered. He looked some more. Hmmmm, liquid for an engine would have to be in a pan or something. Cool, there it is.
But how to get the oil out...drain...plug...hmmm. Time to look some more. Doggone this thing is dirty. Old dirt roads, mud, grease, oil..all make for a dirty engine, especially undernieth. But kids don't worry about that stuff. Hell, if anything a mudpuddle is great fun.
Dad crawled under the engine but it was dark under the truck. He couldn't see anything but the sun rays worked their way through the spokes of the wheels. Hmmm. It gave him an idea. He remembered grandmas little old mirror that she had kept for years. The silver was coming off at the edges, and had a crack in it too. I think it was her mothers, so she never let go of it. Dad sent Joe to get it. While he was gone, Dad looked. And looked. And looked. Where would someone put a plug...DUH! at the lowest part of the pan..of course. He felt around. Voila! Big old plug. Joe came back with the mirror and handed it to Dad. He saw what his brother was up too. Dad aimed it at the sun and flashed the sun in Aunt Agnus' eyes and giggled, then shined it on the pan. Joe was learning too. I still use this trick. The mirror worked great. Better light than a drop light. He could see everything. Lots of bolts and things he didn't have clue about. He would soon enough though.
He looked at the plug. It was big and was going to take a big tool to turn it. Looked like the pipewrench might work good and told Joe to get it. He wondered to himself why they had to drain the oil? Not the time to ask though, just do it and ask later. Time to find out if this actually was the oil pan drain. The pipewrench was old, rusty, and hard to adjust. In those days they were called monkey wrenchs. Dad wondered why while he tried to adjust it. Joe was feeling bad now though, and went back into the cab to lay down.
The truck moans and sinks a little even from Joes weight. Dad fiddles with the wrench and after a few turns it fits the plug. He pulls on the wrench. Hmmm. Its covered with greasy dirt, and every move makes dirt fall in his eyes. Crap, this ain't no fun already. Sun is already getting warm too. He feels the suns rays hitting his feet but it feels good. He was cold all night. He pulls again...ah..it moves a little. And a little more..now with his fingers. He turns it a few times more and .....arrrrgggg....oil! Even at that age he knew something was going to come out of the hole when the plug comes undone, and you better not have your face in front of it. He was right. The bucket was right under it and dad drops the plug in the bucket. Oil ran down his arm, but only a bit. Hmmmm.m not much oil. Only a drop now. Something clicks in his mind. Thats why the truck "blew a rod". No oil. Things were adding up. But what happened.
Time to find out.
Dad went to the tent and asked grandpa what was wrong with the truck. He'd heard the noise, and heard grandpa tell grandma he thought they'ed blown a rod. Blown a rod? Hmmm, where were they gonna get a rod out here? Maybe there was more to it. But exactly what was a rod anyway. And what did he mean by blown? And why? and and and...lots of questions ran through Dads mind.
Grandpa was sitting up now and watching Dad under the truck. He expected some questions now, but since he wasn't a mechanic, he couldn't tell Dad much. Dad didn't like to ask granpa much either. In fact, grandpa wasn't a very pleasant father. Dad had plenty of reason to fear him too. He'd got his share of whippings over the years, so casual talk with his father wasn't something that happened very often. A quick question, and a no nonsense answer was the usual. Today was no exception. Dad asks the minimum. "Whats next Dad"? Grandpa knew a blown rod wasn't really the problem. That was just a term for a rod bearing going bad from lack of oil. He knew all through the trip that it was a possibility. It was an old truck when he bought it. It leaked oil, and even though oil was cheap then, food and gas was the name of the game. Even when it got low, he hoped they woiuld make it a bit farther. But he ran out of luck when he ran out of oil. He'd filled the crankcase a hundred or so miles back. In those days, oil was pumped out of a 10 or so gallon barrel into a glass jar or metal oil can with a filler tube on it. I bet you've never seen one. No such thing as plastic oil containers like today. We're so spoiled. Containers made from the product they hold. Hmmm But grandpa knew they were facing the Mohave and the Sierras so he spent the $1.50 he'd saved for emergencies on a used one gallon gas can and filled it full of oil. Didn't think it would do much good now though.
Grandpa tells dad, "Gotta pull the pan now son". Pull the pan? Pull it where? Dad is use to figuring out grandpas statements. He thinks for a minute. Oh... remove it. Pull it becomes part of Dads new mechanic jargon.
He walks over to the truck. Hmmm,, how do you "pull the pan" , and why?Time to look. If it had to be removed, how do you remove it? Dad climbs under the truck again and looks at the pan. Hmmm. He can see a little better now. Its getting brighter and warmer, but it's still pretty dark under there. When he climbed under, he put his hand on the trucks fender. Wow, its already getting hot. But its still cool under the truck. Hmmm, mirror time. It still works. He looks ......oh, little bolts around the pan...ok. Now, how to do it? The pipewrench sure isn't going to fit those. Joes still laying down, so Dad climbs out from under the truck and goes to the tool bag.
Grandpa didn't have many tools. Hell, he didn't have much of anything. Oakies were poor. Grandpa had heard some people had made it out of Oaklahoma to California and were working now. Thats how he heard about Taft. News traveled slow in those days, but he'd got a tip from one of the Oil Company foremans. They were hiring in Taft California. Grandpa never heard of it, but didn't care. If thats where there was work, thats where he was going. He'd even gone to the Phillipines when he was younger. California was 2000 miles away, but if your starving, and lost your farm, what else could you do. It was the depression and there wasn't any work in Oaklahoma anymore.
Dad looked in the tool bag. Hmmm 2 or three wrenchs and a few other basic tools. The bag had been sitting in the sun, and the tools were hot now. Better take the whole bag to the truck. Its cooler under it. Hmmm, its real hard to do things under the truck. Not much room. Dad gets an idea. He'd seen a guy in one of the towns they passed through, working on an old truck like theirs. At the time he didn't understand, but it was perfectly clear now.
Dad goes to the tent and asks. "Can I push the truck on its side"? Grandpa was a no nonsense person, and reasoning was the name of the game. It made perfect sense. Besides, it was an old truck, so who cared? Grandpa gets up and calls everybody over to the truck and tells them, We're going to lift the truck up on its side. Grab a place to lift." Joe jumps out of the truck now. They'd taken everything but the bedding out of the back, so it was pretty much ready. Even grandma helped. A one, two three, heave. With all of them lifting, it wasn't hard. Old model T;s weren't very heavy. Joe ran around on the other side to look. Dad had left the bucket on that side, and there wasn't much in it, but every drop was precious now. Luckily, they missed it.
Dad looked at the pan. Grandpa tells him.."I hope we can fix this, but I don't even know whats really wrong with it." Dad says..."whats a blown rod?" Grandpa had been a steel worker most of his adult life, and was used to being around engines and things, but he wasn't an engine mechanic. He'd learned the jargon from a friend of his. "I think a blown rod means the bearing has melted from the heat. When you run out of oil, the bearing gets real hot and melts."
Dad asks what a rod is. "Well, I've never seen one, but I think its connected to the crankshaft". Dad knew what the crankshaft was. Never saw it but in order to start the engine, you had to turn it with a big steel crank thing in the front of the truck. Grandpa had told him a year ago about the crank turning the crankshaft. He tried to see it in his mind. But like grandpa says, won't get done standing around. The sun was getting hotter by the minute and so was the steel.
Dad looks at the bolts. Grandpa is still sick and goes back to the tent. He wants to fix it himself but feels like throwing up. You know the feeling. Can't work when your real sick. Dad looks at how many there are, thinks to himself, which wrench? He has three to pick from. Old open end wrenchs but big and fat, with a different size on each end. Dad picks one and trys it. It works. Great but its not easy with these old wrenchs. Takes an hour to get em all out. He's proud of himself. Now for the pan to come off. He pulls on it. Hmmm, ain't coming off. He gets the old flatblade screwdriver out of the bag for prybar and finds a place for leverage. Little by little, around the perimeter it starts loosening up. Finally, he gets the screwdriver under the flange and with a final pry, pop! its loose.
I don't know if any of you guys ever worked on a really old car. I mean like a 40's or 50's, or even 60's, let alone a car from the 1920's cause thats what this was. In those days, gaskets were cork, and sealant was this black goo that once it heated on, you played hell getting it off. Thats what dad was up against. Half the cork stayed on the block, and half on the pan caused by the black goo. Dad had no idea what it was though. All he knew was what he saw behind the pan. HOLY SHIT. What was this stuff? A mechanical monster. Dad was proud of pulling the pan, but now, this was a whole 'nother animal. But now he was getting into it. He looked at it for a while. Joe stood in amazement. What was this stuff? He asks his big brother if he could fix it?
You know big brothers. Dad didn't have a clue, but sure couldn't let his little brother know that. "Sure I can". Joe was skeptical..."bet ya can't"
Dad surveys the mechanical marval and spots something. Hmmm, theres where the crank goes into the crankshaft...OH...thats the crankshaft!. He points to it and tells Joe, "see, thats the crankshaft" like a seasoned mechanic. Joe looks at it. "Whats that thing?" as he points to a thingamabob
connected to the crankshaft. Dad looks. Theres little pieces of metal all around it. Dad thinks for a minute.."thats a...a bearing"..not knowing a bearing from a muffler. Joes impressed...but now he starts feeling bad again.
Joe tells dad he has to go lay down. He finds a shady spot on the other side of the truck. Its getting hot now. Even at 9:00 sweat is starting to form on Dads forehead. Tools are getting hot too. Better put them in the shade.
I don't know what Dad was really thinking right then. But I can imagine. Dad walks to the tent but grandpa is asleep. Dare not wake him right yet. Besides, grandpa didn't know anymore than Dad did. But something was clicking in Dads brain. That metal all around the thingamabob...what was that? He goes back to look. He grabs ahold of the thingamabob and trys to move it. I moves ever so slightly. Sweat's dripping now. Sure gets hot fast in the Mohove and Dads thirsty. Not much clean water left either but he gets a drink out of the drinking water bag anyway. Grandma asks how he is doing. "Ok" dad says.The girls are off playing with the local bug zoo. Little doodle bugs and such.
Dad goes back to the truck and looks at it good and hard. Hmmmm, two nuts holding the thingamabob on the crankshaft. And those metal pieces all around it. What could that be? Dad remembers grandpa saying a bearing melts. He decides to take the nuts off and see. But these are real hard to get a wrench on. He digs in the bag and finds a similar size. Damn, he's getting good at spotting wrench sizes. It fits, but not on straight. Barely can turn it too. Dad pulls real hard but it doesn't budge. He trys again, but the wrench slips cause its on at an angle. Ever looked at a crankshaft? Easy enough to pull a rod bearing cap with modern tools, but all he had was a open end wrench, and he couldn't get the wrench around the nut. He thinks....VOILA! He gets the pipewrench and places the open end on the nut parallel with the bolt. Then puts the pipewrench on the open end wrench and pulls. He lets out a whoop. It's loose. Grandma comes over and looks. She shakes her head in disbelief. "Your going to make a good mechanic one of these days Patrick".
Thats my Dads name. Patrick Fitzpatrick. 'Bout Irish as you can get. Dad beams with self esteem. His confidence is growing, but he still doesn't have a clue to the mystery. What happened to the thingamabob and why are all those little metal pieces there. He was about to find out. He takes the other nut off quickly with his new found technique. Another whoop!! With one hand holding the rod, and one on the thingamabob, he wiggles and pulls. Hmm. doesn't want to come off, yet it moves on the crankshaft He looks. It should come off. He raps it with a wrench. Wow, it splits into two parts around the crankshaft. He pulls it off and looks at it. Little pieces of metal fall from the thing in his hand, and theres pieces all over the crankshaft. He looks at the other half. Hmmmm..rod...hmmm...bearing...hmmmm...burnt...melted...All of a sudden it beclomes clear as day. The thingamabob holds a bearing and its melted.
Folks, those are called babbit bearings. In those days, the babbit was a soft metal, that under friction and heat, actually melted. At that moment, it all fell into place for Dad . Like a mystery puzzle when you find the magic piece. Dad was pleased with himself. He'd removed the pan, and found the bad bearing removed the thing that held it all by himself. It was time for a break. Afterall, this is hard work and its gettin real hot. Another drink of that water was called for. Grandma tells him to go easy on it.
Grandpa was awake now. Dads last whoop woke him up. He gets up and walks over and looks in amazement. Naw, Patrick couldn't have done this already? Could he? How? He looks at Dad and says, "Patrick, your going to make a good mechanic one of these days". Dad wasn't used to getting compliments from grandma, let alone grandpa. He beamed. Maybe he was good at something afterall. For years he was left with a feeling of uselessness by his dad. He couldn't do anything right till now. He just hoped he could fix it though. Thats the real sign of a mechanic. He was determined.
There still was a problem though. Grandpa says, "you've found the problem all right, but I don't know how your going to fix it. Ain't no place to get new rod out here. In those days, the bearings were cast right into the rod and cap. He was right. How in the hell could they fix it? They might as well sit out on the road and wait for a car to come by. Maybe grandpa could get a ride. Fat chance though. Only 2 cars passed them the opposite direction the whole day before. Dad was baffled now. He sat and thought for a while. I think he just wanted to go play like his sisters. Joe was still laying down. Pretty much stayed down most of the time. But he knew that it was getting towards noon now. If he didn't figure this out pretty soon, they wouldn't be able to work directly in that sun. When its 110 or so, you don't do much for long directly in it. Dad didn't have a clue what to do. But he had to go the bathroom now.
He'd been so busy he kept puttin it off for over an hour.
Everyone found their own spot to go the bathroom out in the boonies. Dad saw a little hill the night before and found his spot. He made a beeline for it fast, cause now he had to go bad. It was really gettin hot out there now. He pulled on his belt to undo the buckle while running ...snap! He'd had that belt as long as he could remember. The leather was all wrinkled and worn where the prong held it against the buckle. But no matter, he had to go!!
Ahhhhhhhh, how do you spell relief....mmmmmmmmm. Thats good. Ha! He thinks about the belt. How's he going to hold up those baggy pants now. Hmm, just have to tie cord or something.....he's still thinking about the bearing too. Belt...bearing....belt....bearing......HOLY SHIT!!
Dad holds up his pants while he runs back to camp. All the while he's thinking.....belt....bearing....belt.....YES!!!!! Thats IT!! Dad gets back to the camp and asks grandma for one of her old trusty knives. If theres anything that grandma hates its a dull knife and hers are sharper than a Gillette shaving blade. Sharpens them herself. Sign of a great cook from days gone by. Dad takes the knife and sits down beside the truck. Looks at the thingamabob and thinks to himself. Belt...Bearing...Belt..its gotta work. Why not? He hates that old belt anyway. Never did have holes where they should be for him...either too tight or too loose. The knife slices it easy. Razor sharp. He estimates the lenth and cuts a piece about the diameter of the crankshaft. Hmmmm. How to make a butt joint? Hmmm, lets see if it fits...
Too long...have to trim it.....wait...Dad thinks to himself.. overlap it and taper the leather, that might work. He proceeds to shave the piece at each end into a nice scarf joint. I haven't got a clue what made Dad think of this.
But thats what he did. Amazing when you think about it.
Grandpa was laying down again. Grandma was giving the baby a rag bath. Joe was asleep. The other kids were playing. Dad was in his own little world.
To this day dad is the same way. When he's working on a car problem, he's just off in another planet. This day was the beginning of that trait. Its probably what saved them from either dieing out there or at least going into dehydration before someone came by.
In a stroke of genius, Dad must have realized the leather was dry and would quickly wear out. With the little oil in the pan, he rubbed oil on both faces, and carefully wrapped the leather around the crank journal. He'd pushed the rod up a bit which was probably a stroke of luck. The valves were probably open cause he wouldn't have been able to compress the cylinder if not. No matter, it worked. Holding the leather in place, he pulls the rod down on it to the point it won't slip. Now for the thingamabob(rod cap). With carefull alignment the cap goes on. Now for the nuts. Done deal. takes him 10 minutes with his new technique for turning nuts you can't turn normally. Another half hour and the pans on. No sealant, no new seals. Just do it. Done deal.
Well folks, you can guess the rest. They pushed that old truck over, poured the gallon of oil in, cranked it through and VOILA!! It started right up.
With 5 or 6 hours of daylight left, they broke camp and made it to the next migrant camp by nightfall , and Needles California the next day.
Heres a little extra tidbit. That bearing lasted another 200 miles to Taft, and another 300 miles to Corning California. My Dad was all of 11 years old. He went on to join the Navy at the beginning of WWII and became a flight mechanic on PB-Ys in the Pacific. He was on the PB-Y that discovered the Japanese fleet heading to Midway. You may have seen the movie. His picture is in the Smithsonian. And I'm damn proud of him. This is a true story.
fitZ
Kind of like situps when you got a beer belly 
But not us. We got it knocked. Learn it in one key, then all ya gotta know is........THE NOTES ON THE FRETBOARD TO KNOW THE KEYS!!! Of course.....thats a little oversimplified, but no matter, its the truth. Guys, its EASY. Whats difficult for most guys is getting off their lazy fucking ass and make up their mind they are going to learn this stuff once and for all.....come HELL OR HIGHWATER!!! Cause once you do..Thats IT! You THEN have the MASTER KEY TO ALL THE HARMONIC DOORS
