Friday, February 6, 2015

Ressurection of a 1969 Ski Doo snowmobile- "Noisy" and some Appalachain vintage snowmobiling..


It's been far, far too long since I have put anything in print. I thought it time to update!

Back during the 2009 "tractor rescue trip" post, I pictured a couple old Ski Doo snowmobiles I picked up from my friend Ron "Goose" Thomsen while in Minnesota. Since then, Ron has turned his hobby in to a business selling and reproducing parts for vintage Ski Doo snowmobiles.  Shameless plug- www.reproductionvintageparts.com

Back to the subject! One of the machines was a '69 Olympique 320. The more deluxe of Ski Doo's single cylinder offerings for that year, it had a pop-up hideaway headlight, and a wrap around chrome bumper and rear grab handle. Now I knew for the $100 I handed Ron that I had a diamond in the rough.

The machine on the right is a 1968 Olympique, that was thrown in free (engineless) and a useable hood and handlebars plucked for two twenties.  The 69 is on the left.



The 69's seat cover had been destroyed by the sun, and the rain soaked in the moisture, which rotted the plywood base and rusted the top of the track tunnel (sheet metal body to you non sledders out there) paper thin. It's rubber drive track wasn't in great shape, at least one of the internal steel rods was broken, and half the cogs on the left rear of the track idler sprocket were missing. 

The gas tank on these is "built in" as part of the front of the machine, and it had some foul smelling varnish that may have been gas in about 1980 or so. The 318cc single cylinder Rotax engine turned over with what felt to be good compression, and the carburetor had been covered with a plastic bag. 

The sled sat a year or so in Virginia at the inlaw's. The 68 machine was resurrected first, with a period correct Rotax 247 I had from a '67 Ski Doo I parted as a teenager, the engine stored in a friend's shed in MN all these years.  

Coming home summer 2010


In the summer of 2010, the 69 came where we live in snowless Savannah to get a little TLC.  However, I had other things going on and  never got to it. They had a good snow in January of 2011 up at the inlaws, so despite the fact I had done absolutely nothing to the machine since it was pulled from the pine trees in MN, I spent a long Thursday evening after work, I cleaned the ignition points, cleaned the carburetor, rigged up working throttle and brake cables, and I got 'er running. I just used a 5 quart oil jug as a temporary gas tank tucked in between the hood and running board on the left side. A wire clipped to the ground on the wiring harness for a "kill" switch.  Note that it has no ignition switch or key- more on that later!

In the truck and off we went on a Friday night, oh the kids and wife came too. :)

      I had done ONE step along the way in the fix up- I made a new seat. A couple inches thicker than the original, and not made of the nice, pleated factory reproduction material Goose makes his from, but comfy. 

   Enough of the original wood was there for a pattern, and I added a couple inches to the original foam.  I have not yet tried to use a sewing machine, and just fold and staple.






Anyhow...back to the trip! We got safely to the wife's mom and hubby Chris's at about 2am.  There was about 10-12" of snow on the ground. It fell on Wednesday night, but where they are (Wise county, VA) they get snow but it rarely sticks around as they are far enough south they don't stay that cold for long. 

The next AM I got up after too little sleep with a caffeine hang over (ugg!) and with Chris' help, got the yellow machine unloaded. A tad hard to start with no recoil starter on it (needed parts I did not have) we used a knotted rope wound around the emergency starting hub, which is a small diameter and harder to pull. After priming it with a squirt of gas she popped to life. A quick blast up and down the hard packed snow covered drive showed she had a lot more "jam" than my '71 12 horse Ski Doo Elan (another story in itself)  4 year old Cam and 6 year Old Chloe as well as my wife got rides around the yard and up and down the drive. The Oly was much more comfortable for two person riding, the Elan is shorter and really not made for it.

Once again machines were loaded up- we put 'em in the back of Chris' 2500 Chevy and we drove south down to Kristy's Aunt Debi's place, in Lee county. She lives down a narrow, unpaved road wayyyyyy back in the hills, beautiful country in an area called the Klondikes locally. We drove past her place about 1/4 mile to where the state maintanence on the road stops, and unloaded.  From there the road is narrow and used by folks with horses, 4x4's and ATV's, the road winds it's way to the top of the mountain where a load out area is from logging in years past.



Chris on the 71 Elan
BRAAPPP!
T
Debi left, Chris right. The Olympique ran off a jug in the left running board, and I carried a gallon on the right. The five gallon jug on the ground was for refueling.

At the pond

Near the top


What a blast! We rode all the way to the top and back. There was a pond down at the bottom as seen in this pic. The Oly was hard to start, so once running I never shut it down. Chris hit a rock on the Elan, got a tad airborne and came off the seat knee first in to another rock... On the way back, we met some folk in an old shortbed 4x4 Chevy and a side by side ATV who were thought the sleds were pretty cool, having not seen them before.  But I guess not cool enough to offer up any of the beer they had on them...we got back to where we unloaded and Debi had driven down to where we unloaded. She got on back of the sled with me, and we rode back down to the pond and back again. I was about out of fuel, and lost about half a gallon from it sloshing out the holes where I poked the plastic gas tank lines in on my jug. At one point the oly started to backfire out the carb but I never let off... just hoped it didn't catch my coveralls on fire! Once we got back to the truck and I killed it, she would not re start.  Pulled the plug and the spark was weak.  

NOW.......back in Savannah and a month later, I pulled the engine, pressure washed everything, and then took it apart.


The aluminum skid plate on the belly looked like a factory accessory- until I took it off!









It wasn't....but you have to appreciate the backwoods ingenuity. The front two mounting holes I discovered were drilled through the nose of the built in gas tank, they had just sealed them with gobs of RTV silicone. 
The machine had taken a hit, probably a fence post or something to the left front viewed from the handlebars. Nothing I could not bang out and luckily the chrome bumper wasn't twisted, but enough to wrinkle things to where if a person was trying to do a "restoration" it would be hard to get straight. But my goal was a decent looking machine that I am not afraid to ride on old mountain logging roads, 


This sprocket was missing a few teeth before it's mountain ride. It came back with none!

A couple shots showing removal of the drive sprockets and chain case.  







Once the chassis, tub, tunnel, frame, what ever you want to call it was stripped bare, I got out a wire wheel on a grinder and assessed the rust. Under the seat was pretty thin. I had tried draining the gas tank, and sloshing gas and paint thinners about in there, but realized the only way to get it clean was to cut it open and scrape it out. I have a friend with a Plasma cutter- made quick work of it!



Yech! No way this was going to get flushed out. No regrets about cutting this open. 
In this second pic, you can see the line where the liquid level was.  







I cleaned it all out, first pic- then welded a plate over it, had to use solder to seal the pin holes in my welds as it was VERY hard to weld with my MIG even on a low setting. Then I pressure tested it to 2 psi and it held for days. Since it has held clean fuel with no problem. Had I not cleaned it out, I would be going through one fuel filter after another if it did not plug the suction tube first!



Welded it shut




Then I welded plate over the section cut out under the seat-



I did some bodywork- didn't go crazy trying to get all the dents from the belly out as I will just put in more...took a wire wheel on a grinder and took all the loose rust off.  Treated the rust with "Ospho" as I did on the utility trailer project, then a coat of primer or two, and I had the original yellow matched at the local NAPA- it is very close to their code MSU35A- in a single stage "Crossfire" enamel.  Also note in the first picture- I drilled new holes and moved the mounting for the front set of bogies (track support wheels/suspension) "up" an inch. One of the worst qualities of these old Ski Doos is they don't turn in low snow condtions worth a shit...if you move the wheels up, it allows the skis to bite better.   







The hood had about a million spider cracks in the 45 plus year old gel coat. I had to spend hours grinding them open with a vee bit on an air grinder, then filling them with flexible filler. I used a product called "Tec Flow"  but won't again. I used Evercoat brand filler on the Elan project which had an equally bad hood, and none to date have come back out. The Oly hood has had several reappear as I write this two years after project finishing... the Tec Flow does not handle the flexing and vibration as well.







Below is a pic of the "dashboard" area of the hood. There were 1972 and 1975 Montana registration decals on the hood, this machine has traveled a long way since it was manufactured in the summer of 1968 in Valcourt, Quebec! I felt it would be a shame to grind this off and paint over it. 



Then I painted the small parts, most of which I sandblasted in the cabinet at work. I used black Rust-Oleum sprayed with a small touch up gun.



Next, I moved to the engine. I probably did not need to tear it down, but in 45 minutes I had it all apart. The bearings, piston rings and cylinder wall were like NEW. I used new seals and gaskets and put it back together. The loss of spark I had the prior year was a combination of things- the spark plug wire had a lot of corrosion where it screwed in to the coil, there were small heat cracks in the outside of the coil as well. I probably did not NEED to replace it, but Goose had new old stock Bosch coils, points and a condensor as well as new solid core wire.




I had installed new reproduction plastic drive sprockets and idler (rear) sprockets on the drive and idler shafts, cleaned up the bogie assemblies, verified all the bearings rolled nicely with new grease, and reassembled with a used but decent track I got off EBAY for $40 plus shipping.



Odd as it seems, orange IS the original color of that secondary clutch...

And I put it all together-
See the exhaust I fabbed- my OE muffler had been patched once before, and I wanted to try this- so I got the smallest glasspack muffler sold by Summit racing, and welded a 45* elbow to it, then some flex pipe with a reducer to the head pipe off the original muffler. May as well be a straight pipe, I can assure you! 

Below- on grass testing. Except my front yard lawn is about 50x50, so all you can do is a slow oval..  

I put the hood all together, the hinge and mechanism for the pop up headlight took a fair amount of adjustment to get just right. I bought reproduction decals for the faux wood grain of the dash portion, and the "Ski Doo" emblems for the sides of the black stripe around the hood. I painted that stripe on, the factory used a decal. 

The "trunk" or backrest as I call it, is an original piece I got from a guy selling some parts when I was on another Minnesota trip- it's the part I used to match the rest of the paint to, and it had the correct decals on it to boot.  Making the cushion for it was tough, I had to cut the wood about three times to get it to open and close right. And because I made the seat thicker than original, I had to make the pad of the back rest shorter so it would still open. 

Anyway- in January of '13 they got a good dump of snow in south west VA, and away we went- here are some shots on the snow!





Note below the ignition key and switch....when I got this machine, I had a switch but no key. On the same trip where I picked up the two Ski Doos in 2009, I stopped by the home of an old high school friend who ended up with my first machine, a 1970 12 horse Ski Doo some time around 1984. The machine had gotten scrapped eventually, but a chunk of the hood was in a scrap pile. That part had the key switch with a broken off key in it. I was able to get a new key made from that, so in a way, the key switch from my first Ski Doo I got in 1980 at age 13 lives on 25 years later. There is always one part to salvage folks!
  



The first couple shots were taken in Chris and Cathy's yard, the last one and the next few just a couple miles away, on "High Knob" where there are forestry roads we took them on. What a day! Yeah, the snow was melting fast especially in the sun on the southern exposures, but man we used up a tank it each the Oly and the Elan. Both of them ran great all day. 


  - There's the elevation we started out at. 







More pics! The views were fantastic. :)


Chris on the '71 Elan.  
 Overlooking the town of Norton, Virginia


Above- me wearing an early 1970's era accessory helmet



At left, a natural gas well on the mountain.




Warm enough to ride bare handed..I like the way the smoked cut down windshield looks, and I polished the aluminum plate the headlight lever rides in. I also spent a lot of time sanding the rough cast aluminum engine cooling housing down and polishing it. 

You can see how there was more snow on the north facing sides of the mountain. The second pic is where I put the cam on a stump and used the timer to get us both in the shot.
 

   

We rode until it was time to go home. By the time we got down the mountain to where we had parked, a lot of snow had melted off.  Here are a couple vids of the fun- that is if I can get the youtube links to work...





And it appears they work!  

I hope y'all enjoyed this rather long winded tale. May your snow be deep and your gas lines free of ice.  :)  

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Misadventures of my early twenties....how I met the wrong girl!

The year was 1987. This band Whitesnake was tearin' up the airwaves.  "The Cosby Show" was getting big sitcom ratings, and "Married With Children" introduced us to the Bundy family. Big hair and spandex were everyday fashion statements. Ronald Reagan was in his third year of his last term, and I was mid way through my 20th year on this planet and living in the Ft. Lauderdale FL area.

I had my first real apartment, shared with a room mate chosen not so much as he was a great friend but by mutual circumstance, we both needed a place and each had half the money to get in the door. Wasn't a great place, a 20 or so unit two story concrete building circa early 1960's. We had a two bedroom corner unit downstairs with a view of four lane Powerline Road, just south of Oakland Park Boulevard. 

The manager lived right up stairs, a heavy drinker whom I suspect was on some sort of disability and had the management job for the free rent and minimal upkeep. More than once he hit me up for a buck  for the Seven-11 store across the road, where he could get a tall boy or sometimes a quart of cheap beer at 10 in the morning.

I worked as a helper in a shop that did mobile marine diesel repair and was learning the ropes of the trade. I think I made about 7.50 or 8 bucks an hour, twice minimum wage of the day but still not all that great. It kept me in baloney and Ramen noodles, and the 7-11 had .99 microwave burritos that weren't half bad.  .     

My hobby and main transportation was a '71 VW beetle done up "Baja" style.  Each weekend found me trying some new carburetor combination (swap meet finds of course) or new used tires from the used tire shop.

But this tale is not about the car or the pad, though they played a part in it. It's about a girl.....

Names have been changed, and let's face it, some details have gone fuzzy after 27 years!

 I had a group of friends. Many still lived "at home" or such. We would at times gather at the workplace of my friend "Robert"  He worked his dad's business, where they installed business telephone systems. Robert's job was managing the small warehouse, where the components were stocked for installations. Having a key to the place, many of us would gather there at nights, as most were under age,  and being too broke to get in to the nightclubs anyway. Robert played drums and another couple played guitar. I don't ever recall a complete song played and it mostly sounded like the band in the movie "Slingblade"....

Where was I...ah! Robert was moving on, going to school for HVAC (he has a successful small business in the field these days) and a replacement had been hired.....

"SHE" was named "Stephanie"  18 years old or so, and like me, a transplant from the north.  About 5' 5", slender, with shoulder length brown hair, big brown eyes....an infectious laugh. Big, beautiful smile...and she smelled like sunshine....

 Stephanie saw some pictures Robert had gotten developed of the group of us. I guess she saw me in the pics and commented that I was "cute" and being the good bud he was and knowing I was unencumbered at that time, Robert offered to hook her up!  
 (I am on the top right of the ladder in the cutoff sleeved denim, "Robert" is center in the rising sun tee shirt. This pic about 1986 in the warehouse )
 
A blind date it was. Since her place of work and mine were about five minutes apart, I burned what ever rubber a 1600cc V dub with bolt ons would do at precisely 12pm out of my work parking lot and headed to pick her up. I think we went to Subway or something. We talked and talked and I don't recall eating at all. I was smitten from that moment. 

She, like many other young folk lived a few blocks off the beach, and at that time there were many small "pay by the week" studio apartment/motel type places. This was the pre cell phone era, so my contact was to give her my number and she would call from the pay phone outside the lobby. 

We met up on the next Saturday, she had me pick her up on the corner down the street from the place she lived. I was naïve and it did not occur to me why she just did not have me pick her up at the door. We had a date at the flea market and before long we were holding hands. 

A few phone calls and a couple of similar dates later, I learned she had a "roommate" and that she and the "roommate" did not get along all the time. I took it in stride as I didn't care for my roommate a lot of the time. I eventually got the pay phone number as I could call it without her having to fork out change. One time I called at the pre arranged time, and a male answered, he said he was Stephanie's "brother". 

She called half an hour later. I told her I spoke with her "brother" and she got very very quiet.. then started crying and told me he was her older boyfriend that she wanted to get away from.  Then she had to abruptly get off the phone.   

A few days later, she called me crying and said "come get me!" My room mate, whom I had confided the situation to, insisted on coming with. Which was a good thing!

The place was called the Sandpiper or the Beachcomber or such. We pulled in and went to the ground floor room. "Steph" had started dumping her clothes out in to Hefty bags and I began to help her.  "What's going on man?" Said a voice......and there was the recently arrived "roommate".  Flanked by my room mate......  This memory is very clear. The guy was about my height (5' 7") but wiry. He was built like a welterweight boxer, and he had what I can only describe as "serial killer" eyes!  And from the way his veins were all pumped up and he was twitching, he was definitely on some crank of some sort. (Google it if needed)

I tried in vain to think of what the etiquette in this situation was- "What to do when  you are dumping a gal's panties in a trash bag when the guy she is leaving who is jacked up on coke walks in?" sort of thing, but came up blank.  Dad taught me a lot about felling trees, mending fences, but not one dammed THING about this pickle I'd mired myself in!

Mr. Serial Killer Eyes recognized there were two of us, but one of him, and said very calmly to the shaking gal....  "Steph, can I see you for a minute?" and took her in the one bedroom off the combination living/dining room/kitchen.

My roomie and I did not know what to do....grab her shit and toss it in the car?  Then we heard a sound that still rings in my ear to this day....the distinctive "Shiick!" of a clip being slid in to an automatic pistol!

Did I commit an act of fearless chivalry?  Throw myself between the lass and her aggressor in a selfless act of sacrifice?  

Fuck no! I recall my roomie silently mouthing "GO!" as we both headed out the propped open door. I don't recall opening the v dub's door, nor do I remember stopping at any stop signs or red lights on the way back to our place, about 15 minutes away.....

Did I read about a grizzly murder down on the beach in the Sun Sentinel the next day? Was a decomposed body found in the Everglades six months later? No.......she was alive and well enough to screw my room mate a few weeks later!

THE END 
 






















    

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

.Navigating the old way- with a MAP!

Last weekend I had to make a trip to pick up my oldest daughter, who has spent the week with my sister in North Carolina.  The drive took us up I-95 northbound out of Georgia and in to South Carolina, where I intersected interstate 26 to head west/northwest.



The plan was to meet at an exit off I-26 that is about half way mileage and time wise for both of us to drive. On the way up there was an accident about a dozen miles shy of the exit to 26, some sort of three car affair that took nearly half an hour to get past.  The interstate is only two lanes wide in SC and really needs to be three laned in each direction, which is not likely to happen soon.  Traffic south bound, I noted, was very heavy.  Between spring break starting and it being Bike Week in Daytona Beach Florida, lots of traffic headed south. Enough for me to want to try a different route back.



We met at a Hardee's off an exit and "exchanged the prisoner".  I got on I-26 headed east, wanting to find another route south. I pulled a dog eared atlas from the back seat and handed it to Brooke.  (I am sorry if you are a dog, able to read, and find this offensive)



Now, why did I do this, rather than tell her to take her I phone and find us another route? Simple! Last Christmas the family and I were faced with the same dilemma, traffic backed up and trying to find a back route.  The problem with those GPS and nav applications is they all want an ending address.....but they always and I mean always want to put you on the interstate, which was gridlocked and the reason we wanted another route! Then you get frustrated telling it to re route. Guess what else.....they don't work when you loose cell signal, which happens in rural areas.  

I can pull out a paper atlas, look at the WHOLE PICTURE, and see a way out quicker than you can punch the data in on the screen. 

Thus we did. After I told her to open the book and find South Carolina, I pointed to where we were, and told her to find highway 601, which intersected with our direction a few miles down. What do you know, we could take 601, a two laner, all the way across the border into Sylvania, GA which was about 40 minutes from our place on the west side of Savannah, or go just a few miles south on 601 and pick up highway 21 in Orangeburg SC which would take us more east/southeast.



On we went, oh, not moving the potential 75 we would do IF the interstate was clear, but we were moving at 55-60 mph with occasional slowdowns for small towns.  Which is better than 0 to 5 mph with a diesel rig idling on one side of me, and an SUV with a domestic argument going on inside, while their big navigation screen shows a clear, blue road with an arrow pointing in the way they are SLOWLY going!   

      
I do like my techno devices. I own a smart phone. I have a cool GoPro hi definition camera. I have a small hand held GPS I use for boating, fishing and snowmobiling.  I have used auto nav systems for finding an urban address. But in the country? My folks have had people come to visit, who INSIST on "just give me the address!" when the 'ol man tries to tell them how to get there (3 1/2 miles north on 102!) and they get routed about 12 miles out of the way in a big circle......since GPS units often don't recognize unpaved township roads.

Well I sound like a crotchety old fart in this entry...but so many have no clue where they are without devices. A sense of direction, the ability to find North from South, East from West. read a paper map, come on people! 

OK ranting on.......some years back we had a hurricane evacuation, mind you pre GPS, but none the less, I knew the two lanes leading in and out of the area, while others spent hours on a grid locked interstate. Some of whom I am sure have lived here most of their lives. It amazes me how little some folk know about their own surroundings.