The 63 Fairlane and OrangeThenWhite 69 Ford Van. I had the 63 fairlane (I don't remember why, perhaps I was the only one who would fix it at the time? Or did Jimmy own me for the 351 Cleveland engine I pulled out of the 70 Ford GT, which we dropped in the crappy white 69 mustang and nearly killed ourselves instantly? I'll return to this...) while I was at Tyler. And of course, Jimmy had that orange van which we all remember as the vehicle he drove around cooking black beans on the manifold while he was at Kutztown. I don't actually remember whether Jimmy or William originally bought it (I lost it...). After stealing a giant wooden buddha sculpture from Tyler by rolling it onto the 63 Fairlane, I realized there was no way I could drive the car 60 miles or so to K-town for the "Bring your own something to burn" party. And the car looked ridiculous and incriminating parked by my apartment with a giant buddha crushing the rear bumper to the ground. Something needed to be done. After much convincing, Jimmy showed up (with Keith Hartman ?) and together with four of my friends we all managed to shove this thing in the orange van, then shove ourselves in on top of it and drive to the party. It was already late, and of course we got lost, so we pulled into the party around 1:00 in the morning. The 10 or so people there tried to prevent us from burning the sculpture but needless to say, we weren't going to be stopped at this point. It burned until it was getting light outside. I wonder where we went?
My favorite story of the orange van was the trip back from uncle T's one summer. Strangely, I can't remember for sure if William was with us on this idiotic trip,.. I just can't. anyway, no sooner had we left T's than the van started to overheat. We tried all the time honored tricks that Dad had taught us -loosening the radiator cap, coasting, etc- but the darn thing blew it's freeze plug out after a few miles. We Actually managed to buy one, or Jim already had one because the original metal one had a small hole. The replacement one is a stepped rubber plug with a bolt through it and a nut on the outside. You fit it into the hole and tighten the nut which smashes the rubber. The problem is that you have to remove the exhaust pipe (and usually the exhaust manifold ) to get to it, which wasn't fun since the engine on the van is accessed from the inside by removing the engine cover, and the engine had just overheated, and it was July... Got the whole thing put together and... the battery was dead. Got a jump and set off -I think we took the route through Eagles Mere, then onto 42. What I do remember is that the next time the plug blew out, we just barely limped into a service station in Muncy Valley. surprisingly, the plug was still there, it landed on the engine mount or the frames crossmember which seemed unlikely after "blowing out". Somehow, the blow-out plug never got lost, in subsequent blowouts which seems a minor miracle. Anyway, we had to repeat the same horrible routine -engine cover off, burning hot engine, take off the exhaust pipe, replace plug, find water, battery dead again... get jump. Down 220, hard left up 42, up the long, long, long hill, verrrrrry slowly. The next time the plug came out we coasted so far it seems like a dream. We'd pick up speed on a downhill and -sensing that we would almost make it over the next hump with a little "extra", one or two of us would jump out the back doors while it was still going 10 mph or so and start pushing on a run. When we'd get down to 5 mph, the driver would push from their open door. We did this for so long we had to switch drivers on the run. I swear we went 20 miles, almost to millville before we couldn't go any further. We approached a settlement with our prestone jugs. There were lots of people but no one would look at us except one hyper-active kid who ran up to question us, then turned around and yelled "Hey Paw, there's strangers... and they want...WATER!" Somehow we got water without anyone else talking to us and went back to perform our ritual. Someone reluctantly gave us a jump start, which we noticed was getting increasingly difficult; it took longer and longer to charge the battery up enough to start. Anyway, this scene played out a few more times, we were already on the road for 12 hours or so. The last guy to give us a jump was a toe-truck driver. We told him it would take a few minutes to charge the battery before the van would start. "Not with MY cables," he said showing off a hefty set of professional cables. The van didn't start. "It's f-d," he said, "it ain't gonna start!" We managed to get him to wait and sure enough, it did start after 15-20 minutes of charging. But now we needed to run headlights, and it was an added drain. I think we made it pretty far and we had one more incident, but as we were re-assembling, I noticed a braided wire hanging off the engine under the floor -the engine ground strap. I vice-gripped it to the floor. Instantly the inside lights brightened up, the engine smoothed out, the universe shifted. We started driving home cautiously, still with the loose radiator cap, driving slow, but it was clear that everything had changed. The temperature gauge stayed below the center line, the headlights were bright white, and -even though we were driving along with the engine cover off- it was more peaceful in the van. I remember passing the Coca-Cola bottling plant (a sign we were nearing home when we were kids) and adjusting the cruising speed up to 55, and hanging my hand out the window.
Actually, there's a different story of the van, but I"ll tell it next time. Cheers, John
My favorite story of the orange van was the trip back from uncle T's one summer. Strangely, I can't remember for sure if William was with us on this idiotic trip,.. I just can't. anyway, no sooner had we left T's than the van started to overheat. We tried all the time honored tricks that Dad had taught us -loosening the radiator cap, coasting, etc- but the darn thing blew it's freeze plug out after a few miles. We Actually managed to buy one, or Jim already had one because the original metal one had a small hole. The replacement one is a stepped rubber plug with a bolt through it and a nut on the outside. You fit it into the hole and tighten the nut which smashes the rubber. The problem is that you have to remove the exhaust pipe (and usually the exhaust manifold ) to get to it, which wasn't fun since the engine on the van is accessed from the inside by removing the engine cover, and the engine had just overheated, and it was July... Got the whole thing put together and... the battery was dead. Got a jump and set off -I think we took the route through Eagles Mere, then onto 42. What I do remember is that the next time the plug blew out, we just barely limped into a service station in Muncy Valley. surprisingly, the plug was still there, it landed on the engine mount or the frames crossmember which seemed unlikely after "blowing out". Somehow, the blow-out plug never got lost, in subsequent blowouts which seems a minor miracle. Anyway, we had to repeat the same horrible routine -engine cover off, burning hot engine, take off the exhaust pipe, replace plug, find water, battery dead again... get jump. Down 220, hard left up 42, up the long, long, long hill, verrrrrry slowly. The next time the plug came out we coasted so far it seems like a dream. We'd pick up speed on a downhill and -sensing that we would almost make it over the next hump with a little "extra", one or two of us would jump out the back doors while it was still going 10 mph or so and start pushing on a run. When we'd get down to 5 mph, the driver would push from their open door. We did this for so long we had to switch drivers on the run. I swear we went 20 miles, almost to millville before we couldn't go any further. We approached a settlement with our prestone jugs. There were lots of people but no one would look at us except one hyper-active kid who ran up to question us, then turned around and yelled "Hey Paw, there's strangers... and they want...WATER!" Somehow we got water without anyone else talking to us and went back to perform our ritual. Someone reluctantly gave us a jump start, which we noticed was getting increasingly difficult; it took longer and longer to charge the battery up enough to start. Anyway, this scene played out a few more times, we were already on the road for 12 hours or so. The last guy to give us a jump was a toe-truck driver. We told him it would take a few minutes to charge the battery before the van would start. "Not with MY cables," he said showing off a hefty set of professional cables. The van didn't start. "It's f-d," he said, "it ain't gonna start!" We managed to get him to wait and sure enough, it did start after 15-20 minutes of charging. But now we needed to run headlights, and it was an added drain. I think we made it pretty far and we had one more incident, but as we were re-assembling, I noticed a braided wire hanging off the engine under the floor -the engine ground strap. I vice-gripped it to the floor. Instantly the inside lights brightened up, the engine smoothed out, the universe shifted. We started driving home cautiously, still with the loose radiator cap, driving slow, but it was clear that everything had changed. The temperature gauge stayed below the center line, the headlights were bright white, and -even though we were driving along with the engine cover off- it was more peaceful in the van. I remember passing the Coca-Cola bottling plant (a sign we were nearing home when we were kids) and adjusting the cruising speed up to 55, and hanging my hand out the window.
Actually, there's a different story of the van, but I"ll tell it next time. Cheers, John
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