I don’t know how it happened, but all of a sudden, there is a lot less repair and overhaul at my 102-year-old Troutman Foundry building. It’s a living, breathing place now—functional as a car commune and meaningful to a group of passionate people. OK, maybe I still have a smelter load to do. But at least the flooding and break-ins have ceased.
As regular readers may have noticed, getting the foundry commune up and running had stalled my personal projects. I had more or less mothballed my rolling projects while I worked on the big, falling down one. Meanwhile, Friend Thomas was busy either fixing, driving, or breaking down in Motor Pool vehicles. We did manage to camp out of Fuggles the Truck and the Corolla for the SRO race at Virginia International Raceway.
Me personally, though? I have had my sights set on getting my pair of Studebakers going. Here’s how it went.
Of every oddity in my possession, why the Studes? I think the Guilt-to-Pleasure Ratio (G2PR) was highest. Guilt has been high and pleasure low because of the aforementioned neglect. I went through an awful lot of trouble to find and resurrect my 1964 Gran Turismo Hawk. Nowhere near as much trouble as the car and I had been through during my high school years, but still significant. The Lark, then, belonged to a dear friend who had passed away; it’s been a family and community effort to get it back on the road.
Either Stubekaer would have been be a pleasure to drive to work, in their scruffy yet pretty form. So why not prep both at the same time? Might as well improve the G2PR, I figured. (Some of my cars are doomed to stay on the scale’s lower rungs for a while longer. I’m looking at you, problematic Renault GTA.)
First up was the Hawk. It’s the middle of the summer in the South, which means a Hawk with black paint and no A/C (plus highly thermoconductive interior materials) is not the wisest choice. Thankfully, I am notoriously unwise; second-degree burns on the undersides of my thighs and arms build character. And hopefully callouses. I knew I needed to boil the Hawk’s fuel tank and give the fuel system parts a quick clean. This was a relatively easy job, and a cheap one if I don’t factor in the $40 bottle of wine from our road trip through Macedonia that donated its cork as the fuel sender float.
Upon first cranking, the precariously placed fuel pump shot a geyser out of its electrical connections and onto the fender-mounted voltage regulator. Yes, you read that correctly.
For a moment, the PVC jackets carried both current and fuel and dispensed it all onto a circuit board mounted on the inner fender. Safe, right?! I promptly shut the car off, threw the pump in the trash, and replaced it with something that did not do… that.
The months of sitting up had not been kind to the Hawk’s tires (flat), battery (dead), or brakes (leaky). Quickly resetting the brake adjustment at least made it so the car didn’t careen straight into the nearest ditch.
Job done. Generally. I mean, it still needs a four-speed, rear leaf bushings, ball joints, and basically the entire catalog of mechanical bits listed in Studebaker International’s catalog. But for now I can get to work and melt my arm skin to the door trim while I’m at it.
Next!
The Lark was and is more of a project. My Shitbox Spidey Senses failed to detect the scale of said project, but we at the Troutman Foundry don’t do that level of overall investigation. We don’t bound through a car all in one leap as much as we follow a breadcrumb trail of small- and medium-sized jobs that stretch out over an always-distant horizon.
So let’s get to munching.
What was already done and documented so far with the Lark? General de-scuzzing. Tires. Re-attachment of almost all trim. Cylinder heads, master cylinder rebuild, re-lining of brake shoes and a rebuild of all related components. Removal of all spare parts from the trunk and interior. From there, Thomas started the gradual assessment of what else needed doing.
Upon the first brake bleed attempt, I discovered that the rear circuit was blocked in two places. This necessitated a new copper-nickel line and flex hose, which was on the list to replace, anyway. Finally, we vacuum-bled the system successfully on the second attempt, following a failure that showered at least two crew members with DOT3. With that, every molecule of the braking system has been replaced after several rounds of hoping the most recent simple fix would do it. Lesson in scoping brakes: Unless it only recently stopped stopping, in the future I’ll be throwing the book at it right off the bat.
Thomas’ sights turned back to the Lark’s loud and smelly parts. We very quickly encountered a dead fuel pump, our third of the week. (Don’t ask about when we tried to start the Holden.) Last time I had investigated this component, it was filled with dirt dobbers that I had evacuated with carb cleaner until it started ticking. Thomas took a similar approach with a 9/16″ wrench that now lives in the crack of the bench seat.
It should be noted that as part of our combined 24-hour security and heat stroke management avoidance plan, Thomas has been working the night shift. It’s great, really. While I’m out for a morning run, I can stop by the foundry and catch up with him what happened over the third shift. If I don’t get around to it, there’s often enough evidence in the security system to piece the night’s events all together.
In this specific case, I was notified via security app of “Someone Lingering!” following an electrical check at 4:58 a.m. I then observed the Lark triggering a “Motion Detected!” as it left the foundry at 5:11 a.m. I had the pleasure of viewing this nearly live, while feeding baby August, during an early morning wake-up.
During this test ride, Thomas told me, the lights started to flake out and the dash illumination proved kaput. Small-scale stuff considering what we’ve become accustomed to dealing with. A trial parts store run came next. It was not successful. The Lark was Dead in the auto parts store parking lot with a fried battery and locked-up fuel pump. It was abandoned there. The store staff, generous in their pity, gave our guys a ride back to the factory in the bed of a truck.
If we look out over the breadcrumb trail laid before the Lark, we expect a new fuel pump (have one already), a battery (getting it today), and some electrical fettling. I don’t want to jinx us, but it seems like we might also tackle that new carpet install, dash, and package shelf by the end of the day.
Even in their half-running condition, I’d say for foundry standards, the two Studes are ready to officialy join the Troutman fleet. We need to get some of our younger members some exposure to Studebaker motoring.
Much as I’ve enjoyed the foundry-rescuing stories, I’m happy to read an entirely car-related column, Matthew. And frankly, I think the Studebakers were a perfect pair to move up to the plate. Carry on!
