Book5

AEROBUS

CHAPTER 5 - In Memory of Paul Ryan

We continued to listen to the engine and watch it until it became fully warm. The fire extinguisher was handy but we didn't need it. I was ecstatic over this bit of progress.

"Man, thanks for coming out and giving me a hand," I said to John "this is great! But hey, you've got to give your girls some attention. I'll let it run for a bit and inspect the brakes then call it a day."

"Okay, but if you need anything I'll be inside."

I turned off the engine after a while and removed the wheels one at a time. I pried off the accompanying brake drum at each wheel. It was immediately apparent that all the parts needed to be replaced.

Drum brakes have a slightly elaborate mechanism of levers and springs that push two crescent shaped, metal brake shoes outward to make contact with the inside of the drum that spins with the wheel. The contact of the two shoes and drum at each wheel is what stops the vehicle. Brake shoes have an asbestos lining much like the sole on a pair of shoes and they wear out from friction as soles do.

The brake shoes on this car all were worn out and all the springs that hold everything together were rusty and would have to be replaced. Too much was at stake to allow the possibility of a rusty spring breaking and causing the brakes to fail. Upon removing one of the drums a broken spring fell out confirming my resolve to replace them all. I was surprised that there was enough braking ability left in this collection of parts to have allowed us to tow it here. All the drums looked good except for one on the front that had a hole worn completely through it. I'd never seen that happen before.

Front brakes wear out faster than the rear owing to the distribution of weight towards the front when a vehicle makes a stop. I removed the bad drum as a sample for finding a replacement and put everything back together again.

This had been a productive day. I now knew the car would run. What I had to do next was to make it able to stop. Once that was done I could test the final major assembly in vehicle locomotion, the transmission. Despite my progress today I was not ready to attempt to put the car in gear and see if it would move until I knew I could stop it reliably. I didn't want to risk putting a damper on the day's success either. Experience told me transmissions can be fickle, delicate items. That could wait.

Before putting the last tire back on I noticed that the rubber on the inside of the tire had been worn down at the same point all around the tire. I also saw that a part of the front suspension called the upper ball joint had its paint worn off in one spot. The abrasion on the circumference of the tire matched the point at which the tire contacted the ball joint. Looking at the other front tire I noticed that it was the same. This was a problem I was going to have to explore before I spent money on new tires. For now it was time to conclude this satisfying day. I loaded up all my paraphernalia, brake drum, and my 2 gallon gas can. I decided to try to come up with a better temporary fuel tank until Paul Ryan was able to bring an original tank he had offered to sell me for fifty dollars.

By the time I put everything away and cleaned myself up there was still no one home so I decided to go shopping for parts. At a nearby Wal-Mart I found a plastic, 6-gallon boat fuel tank that looked like it would fit inside the spare tire well in the cargo section of the car. I thought that if Paul had not made it to Sacramento by the time I needed to get the car smogged I could hide it in there.

During a California smog check the inspection station does a visual examination of all elements involved in combustion, from the fuel filler-cap door to the exhaust pipe and everything in between. With an illegal tank hidden inside the vehicle I thought I might be able to slip by. In the mean time it was worth the twelve dollar expenditure just to be able to eliminate the two-gallon can on a stool next to the car.

I bought the tank and went to an auto parts store to research brake parts. In a scene to be repeated many times later, I was told that they did not list Checkers in the computer. After much pressing of buttons on the computer to confirm that it was not listed the clerk eventually turned to the paper parts catalogs arranged beside him. Reading the catalog titles through years of accumulated grime the clerk eventually settled on one and popped it out of the rack. A few deft flips later the catalog flopped open on a whole page labeled "Checker" right between Cadillac and Chevrolet.

"What model did you say that was?" asked counter-boy.

"A 1970 Aerobus." I replied "That's an eight-door station wagon."

"Nope, not listedoh wait, there's a footnote here, yeah there's a part number. They're eleven by three inches. That's the size of some big pick-up trucks."

Turning back to the computer he typed in the part number.

"Yeah, I've got them in stock."

"Okay I'll take a set all around, how about the spring kits and drums?"

More checking, carefully this time, "Nope, 'fraid not. Try Capitol Clutch and Brake out in West Sacramento tomorrow. They're closed today"

Encouraged by finding the shoes but disappointed at not being able to conduct one-stop shopping I headed for a local junk yard. I wanted the momentum of the day's success to continue into the parts chase as well. I was anxious for progress and with my Coast Guard exchange-student class date approaching I wanted to get the car out of John's driveway.

At the junkyard I decided to look at all the pick-up trucks that had their brake drums removed exposing the springs and shoes. I must have looked at twenty different trucks in the course of an hour, lugging my bad drum around for test fitting, until I spotted a three-quarter ton pick-up with springs looking much like what I remembered on the Checker. I saw that the junkyard had identified the truck by painting "84 Ford" on the windshield. These sure looked like the springs on the Checker. I knew that there had not been many significant developments in drum brake design in a number of years but I wondered if the brake springs from an 1984 Ford could really fit a 1970 Checker.

I tried to fit my brake drum over the pick-up truck wheel lugs and brake shoes. It was not even close. So even though the springs were similar I would have to look further for the brake drum. I left the junkyard without finding a match for the drum.

Back at the parts store I was easily able to get springs kits for a 1984 Ford and rushed to John's house to check my hunch. It only took a minute to get the wheel off the corner of the car where I had removed the drum. The springs were immediately visible. I carefully held each new spring over the old ones to check the dimensions. Everything was an exact match!

I learned that Checker Motors took off-the-shelf components from the major Detroit auto makers. They had been using Chevrolet engines for several years and now it seemed they used Ford brakes in 1970; at least for the springs. It was growing dark and I was exhausted and decided to call it a day and go home and call Paul Ryan for more advice. I would go to Capital Clutch and Brake the next day and buy a new drum.

I called Paul's house and was surprised when another voice answered the phone. I knew he lived alone.

"Who's this?" I demanded, knowing it was none of my concern.

"Joe Pollard" came the answer. I knew Joe's name from the Checkerboard News, the club newsletter. Joe was the president of the California Checker Club and owner of the largest stock of Checker parts on the West Coast, and perhaps the world. Paul had talked about Joe and had said he was storing some of Joe's cars at his house. Joe answering the phone seemed natural enough so I talked parts with him for a while and then asked to speak to Paul.

"Paul died last night."

"What?" I exclaimed.

"Yeah he had been feeling bad lately but refused to go to the doctor," Joe continued "I offered to take him myself but he just refused. Said he would get better."

I didn't know what else to say at the moment. I quickly said good-by to Joe and told him I would call him later.

I was more in shock than I expected over someone I had known for such a short time. I barely knew him. A couple letters and a few phone calls. He was just a nice guy eager to share his knowledge. How could he have killed himself by refusing to seek help?

I didn't do anything to the Checker for two weeks.

I didn't get to Capital Clutch and Brake until the Friday preceding that weekend. I spent over an hour with the counterman at CCB with my worn sample brake drum. The counterman took measurements of all the critical dimensions of the drum and then compared those dimensions to a big catalog of numbers. Many of the drum part numbers that shared the important dimensions no longer cross-referenced to available parts in the computer. Finally one did. It was off an International Harvester Micro-Mite Step Van from 1969.

"I've got it in stock and it's one hundred and fifty." the counterman said.

"One-fifty seems a little steep," I complained.

"Look behind you," he pointed to a pile of huge brake drums designed for a tractor-trailer, big-rig brakes, "those are fourty-nine."

"What's your point?" I complained louder, "Those are three times the size of mine."

"My point is that it's supply and demand," he said with a smile that told me he was sympathetic to my problem, "we don't get much call for drums for a 1969 International much less a Checker Aerobus."

I was silent. Considering my predicament and wondering if there were other sources for Checker brake drums.

"What company did you say you were from?" counterman inquired with a wink.

Grasping his point quickly I replied, "Ed's Motors."

"Okay then the total would be one-oh-eight with tax."

I was a tightwad but not one to pass up a generous discount like that. I told him I would take it.

He brought the drum out and I noticed that the holes for the studs, that go through the drum and hold the wheel on, were a smaller diameter than on my original drum. I discussed this with him for a minute and he said that I could probably put smaller studs on the car. I thought I could probably drill the new holes out larger. I paid him and walked out with the last part to fix my brakes. Or so I thought.

Countdown to Coast Guard school: 4 weeks. Four working days on the Checker if I was lucky. The school was only 90 miles away and I would be home every weekend but I was sure Vilma wouldn't want me working on the car after being away from her all week.

I had a sense of urgency now. I didn't want to impose on John's generosity any more and I wanted to get my project to the point of being able to register it. I had to get the brakes working this weekend. I was anxious to get the fuel tank installed and then test that transmission.

I rounded up my usual assortment of tools, gloves, new boat fuel tank, and boom-box radio. I had recently discovered a Saturday afternoon Blues radio show on the local National Public Radio station. This was four hours of Blues with very little commentary. Unless I was in one place for the full four hours I was seldom able to listen to much of it. Working on the Checker was the perfect time for it. Music seems to lessen the pain of a skinned knuckle and lowers the frustration caused by a spring that just won't cooperate and attach where you want it to.

It was too early for the Blues show when I arrived at John's house but I got to listen to an hour of "Car Talk" by "Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers" who are really Tom and Ray Magliozzi who host a call-in, automobile troubleshooting, radio show. It was satisfying listening to other people's vehicle maintenance problems when confronted with my own.

I laid out the spring kits and shoes and started around the car removing each wheel and brake drum in turn and tearing out all the old springs, levers and cables that comprise the brake for that wheel. Many of the more durable parts are not included in the spring kit. I had to inspect and save them for reuse. I saved the old brake shoes to get my core fee back. The core fee is an amount of money refunded to the customer if they return the old part. Kind of an anachronism in today's disposable society. In this case the old brake shoes would be returned to a factory, likely a sweat shop in Mexico, that will rivet new asbestos soles on the otherwise metal shoes.

From experience I was able to do most brake jobs without an instruction manual by my side and this one was pretty much the same. I still do only one wheel at a time so that I can check how my finished assembly looks when compared to one of the other wheels. It is possible to really screw things up and most maintenance manuals don't provide clear enough pictures for where each spring and little part should go. If they do have good pictures they are of some other type of car that's just a little bit different than yours and only serves to confuse you more. Today went rather smoothly and I had all new spring kits and shoes properly installed all around the car in just three hours.

My progress was far slower than a professional mechanic but I was on my butt on cold concrete in winter. California winter days in the Sacramento valley are not terribly cold but they will numb your fingers after a couple of hours and certainly numb your buns after too long on concrete. I wear a disposable dust mask during days like that so that the warmth of my breath helps to keep my nose warm. It's a time waster to have to be constantly blowing and wiping your nose when there isn't generally anything handy that's clean enough to use for the purpose. All the inconveniences aside, I saved a couple of hundred dollars in labor costs. I had the satisfaction of accomplishment and none of the doubts about whether a garage had done the job properly.

When I was young, new to the Air Force, and stationed in the Philippines I bought my first 1957 Chevy. I had no choice then but to do my own maintenance. The money I was making did not allow the luxury of paying someone else for services, even in a country where labor was cheap. I didn't know much about cars then but had good mechanical ability and could always find another GI to get advice from. I had heard too many anecdotes from people who received bad service from mechanics. Even if I could have afforded it I was not willing to pay for incompetence. That resolve has stayed with me to this day when I can better afford the services of a professional but still don't want to throw good money away. I'm a tightwad and a confirmed do-it-yourselfer.

I don't want to be the guy writing the classified ad for his hot rod that goes something like, "$20,000 invested, sacrifice for $8000." I wasn't sure yet that a Checker Aerobus would ever have any significant value but I knew I would never make any money on it if I paid someone else restore it. I had the luxury of patience too. I was prepared for this project to take several years. I did want this initial phase to get over rather fast however. I wanted it to be running and registered so I could park it on the street in front of my own house and work on it more often.

I finished the springs and shoes on the fourth and final wheel, the wheel that I had taken the bad drum off of earlier. Now it was time to test-fit the new drum. I knew I still needed to enlarge the stud holes but I was curious if it was going to fit over the shoes. It did. The existing studs lined up perfectly with the holes on the drum too even though they were too large to slip through. I decided that instead of going to smaller, and thereby less durable, studs I would get a machine shop to drill out the stud holes. Surely that wouldn't cost much.

Since there was no more I could do on the brakes that day I set about installing my new plastic boat fuel tank. It fit perfectly under the hatch behind the tail gate where the spare tire is designed to go. This location is just above the factory location for the original steel fuel tank. It was an easy matter to run a rubber hose from the boat tank through the spare tire water drain hole and to the existing steel fuel line. This was a good solution. As long as the smog inspector did not get down on his hands and knees and look up under the car to verify the presence of a fuel tank I could get away with it. I was betting that cars with missing fuel tanks were uncommon enough that most inspection stations would give little notice to that item on the checklist.

Now I had a reliable and portable source of fuel, a running engine, and nearly working brakes. I was almost there. Still there was that transmission that could cause problems. One hurdle at a time I thought to myself as I started the car, just to hear it run again before quitting for the day. The last task before leaving was to remove the ugly, cracked window to take to a glass shop for duplication. It came out of the door easily and I was on my way.

Driving home I wished I could still call Paul Ryan and share my progress with him.