Mercedes 2626 AK 6x6

[pairospam]

I found in a remote corner of the shop the sway bar of the cabin’s suspension, ready to paint but long forgotten, and I profited to clean and paint it also. Then I wrapped the three parts in paper and left them in the same forgotten corner.

Good Christ… I really hate to clean the paint gun!

The next step was to get a sand-blasting chamber. In Santiago there were a few models for sale but only for medium and small parts and pieces, with sand-recovery gadgets and all, at a very high price. No way the axles of the truck could fit in so I went to the nearest ad hoc shop and bought a 2x3 metres chinese garden tent, then I bought a few meters of polyethylene sleeves and sticking tape for a few euros.

When I could I assembled the tent by the side of the truck, not an easy task as it was supposed to be, and then I hung the plastic sleeves of the tubular frame, and voilá!... the sand-blasting chamber was complete and ready to be used, with enough place to work around the axles. I hoped that it would be enough to contain the sand and the dust from spreading all over the workshop.

About the sand, well… I ended up in the river bed of the Aconcagua river, with a shovel, under a gigantic stone-grinding machine picking some kilograms of a very sui generis type of sand recommended by some local experts. The especial sand used for industrial sandblasting was too big for my father’s device and they sold it with a minimum request of half a ton.

I took the heavy sac to the shop and spent a couple of hours sifting the sand with the little sieve of the sand container. Pretty boring job.

At some moment I passed by the little Mercedes parts shop and bought the alternator bracket that claimed to be replaced when I had to loosen it for removing the fan. Even if I did not like the look of the welding, of brazilian make, it was surely better looking than the original badly-repaired one.

I completed the sandblasting gear with Eduardo’s protecting mask and I was ready to test the sandblasting bloody thing.

Dressed like the abductor of E.T. and sweating heavy I ended up pretty disappointed. I did not get the necessary flow of sand and the compressor worked and worked non-stop.

After a little thinking I concluded that the sand was contaminated with too much fine-grain sand that formed stoppers in the lumen of the hose that the Venturi effect was not able to overcome. On the other side, the regulator valve of the compressor was defective and it started when the pressure dropped from 130 to 110 psi instead of 60 psi. Chinese device out of warranty… nothing to do about it.

Anyway, at some brief moments the sandblasting worked well, and when it did the rust, the old paint and the dirt were blown away cleanly and I really liked that.

I asked the master of masters (my old man) and after grumbling me he counselled to use fine gravel, the one that is dropped on the recently asphalted roads. So I went out to get some gravel, but I could not find any at the many quarries all around San Felipe. I tried to dig at the river bed of the Putaendo river that time, but I found nothing but piles of rocks and dust and trash.

Then I decided to follow the counsel of my father to the letter and I was a couple of hours sifting the gravel by the side of the road that led to the cattle in the country. I had to dig half a ton to obtain just a bucket of fine gravel but it was worth the effort. To my eyes it was enough to make a test and if it worked it would be enough for cleaning both axles.

The next weekend I dressed up the sweating clothes and the mask and sandblasted again. It was far better but still the gravel did not flow well enough to bring a constant blasting. I hung the container to make gravity help a little but it was not enough.

But, no matter if it was a non-expert sandblasting (or worst), I really liked the toy and the most difficult corners were freed of rust, at least enough to trust that the primer and the new paint would adhere firmly.

The problem of the dust and the jettisoned gravel was quiet well solved by the “high-tech” chamber. The dust was so fine that after half an hour it still filled the chamber and you can see the glow under the camera flashlight in the picture of the hung sand container.

[pairospam]

Hi there:

I have had not, as usual, too much time to carry on with the project the last few weeks. I decided that resurrecting the Terrano would have consumed too much of this scarce time, so I started to look for a 4x4 to replace the venerable japanese. I told before that I loved the japan-made 4x4 of the nineties, and I liked pretty much the design of the Montero, so I aimed to get one in good shape. Difficult task.

Carmen, my wife, saw one day the picture of a given 4x4 in the internet and said: That’s it… that’s the one! I don’t know why, but I sort of believed her.

Early in May, Carmen, Eduardo and his wife and I made a trip to inspect some prospects and, for a lot of unreasonable reasons, we went very far, almost 500 kilometres south, precisely where Carmen’s Montero was. Too expensive, we came back with no car… but with a little hope.

At some unexpected moment last week, more than a month later, the guy called to finally accept my offer and sold me the Montero. Good. Carmen’s vision was right, at last.

So I woke up at four in the morning, dressed up in moto suit, picked up Eduardo and drove to Santiago pretty fast in the early morning mist at subzero temperature to take the bus to the city of Chillán, where the 1994 Mitsubishi Montero was. We arrived right on time to aboard, almost frozen.

As briefly as we could, we inspected once again the car, made the paperwork and paid all the bloody taxes and certificates. Finally, we filled up the tank and headed for San Felipe. The vehicle was in very good condition for its age and mileage, of course.

When we arrived back to Santiago I picked up the Africa Twin from the bus terminal and Eduardo drove to San Felipe in the Mitsubishi. At the limit of the city there was a pretty nice 4x4 MAN wohnmobil made by Bocklet parked at a gas station. Sadly, when I was approaching to park at some distance the guy got in the box and closed the door. A little stream of water was spilling from the box; someone was taking a shower in the box, and let the water fall directly over the floor!

At first I did not know what to think, but I felt a little disappointed because it is my idea that when you decide to travel in a big and attractive truck through foreign countries you cannot avoid contacting and interacting with the people that live there. Maybe they were tired, maybe they were precisely tired of interacting with people at that time in the afternoon, but I remembered that when I was in a camper site at San Pedro de Atacama in northern Chile, a dozen European campers arrived and parked there. Well, they stayed at least four days at the camping site but they never, and I mean never, tried to speak to anyone else but to the other members of their convoy. Interacting with the locals, zero, at least there where we were.

I spoke to one of the drivers once and we had a brief and gentle chat, he seemed to be a nice man but clearly he was not in the mood.

It is not for me to say the right things, but with that odd memory in mind it is very difficult not to feel that my concept of travelling might be pretty different from many other people’s own concept. I hope that my feelings are completely wrong and that it was only an unfortunate coincidence or an unfortunate timing.

The truck was pretty nice, though.

I wanted to assemble the posterior axle as complete as I could before applying the wash primer. I moved the fragile and unstable sandblasting chamber now transformed in the dust chamber to leave the axle out and to free it from the dust. Then, I got the struts and started to clean them up with the metallic brushes. As always, I could not stop until every gram of rust that I could take out with the instruments was taken out, even if I knew that it was not strictly necessary.

The cardan shaft partially sandblasted had its time of brushing too, and I left it clean enough to finish it with the sand gun again.

[sascha71]

Hey Pairoa,

your wrong and your wright. I haven't had that much of experience traveling with a motorhome throughout the world.

But beeing in different contries, has a lot to do with the perception of your inviroment. When You drive down a road,
you either see only the road or you see every little detail beside the road.

I think, as a foreigner coming from a very rich industrial country, you have the responsibility of showing people that your
nothing else but a curious person like everybody else, sharing the same hopes and worries. Some people are not aware that their manner/behavior in voreign countries is reflected to the country he/her is coming from.

So do not be disapointed, I thing one big asset of traveling remotly to different countries is to get in touch with locals,
their way of living and how they see the things.

Its like getting your hands dirty fixing an ingine or weraring gloves while doing it!

If I look at your little project, your mad, thats the only thing I can say, keep up the work, do not loose drive and
finishing your enterprise.



Take care, Sascha



P.S. never sell your Africa Twin, you will probably regret it for the rest of your live!

[pairospam]

Sascha:

Thanks for your words, I completely agree with you.

I am the kind of guy who looks all around while driving, I always want to see and to know everything and want to go everywhere. That's why I get caught in trouble so often and the reason I choose to prepare a 6x6 truck: to be able to get out.

I have learned many lessons, important lessons regarding life and happiness and work etc., sharing and listening to other people along the many roads I have traveled, and the simpler their way of life the bigger the lesson. It is difficult for me to understand the ostracism in someone who travels.

My little mad project will go on, never mind, even if it takes me many months of extra work.

... and I will never sell the bike.

Cheers.

Pairoa

[sascha71]

and the simpler their way of life the bigger the lesson.

I hear you

[pairospam]

Well, it has been quiet a while since the last update.

These have been hard times for the mad little project because the events and the scarcity of time have made very difficult to make any significant progress, if at all.

Cleaning is a hard, time consuming and lonely task, and the whole project is a faithful testimony of that so far, but it has its reward.

One afternoon a package from Germany arrived, sent by this friend that helps me with the difficult-to-find or the very expensive pieces of the truck. Unfortunately, I forgot to mention that I needed both retainers of the yokes from the bogie, so there was only one in the package. Ops. He felt pretty bad and I felt a little stupid but actually I was so far from beginning with the assembly of the bogie that there was not hurry at all and enough time to get the other retainer.

After many hours of power brushing, tons of dust, litres of sweat and a lot of metallic filaments buried in the overall and in my skin I finished to clean the four inferior struts of the bogie. I decided that all the silent-blocks would be used until they were dead because the state of the two worst ones was not too bad.

I got into the sand chamber and sandblasted the third axle, once again, because at inspection there were still some corners that needed to be cleared from rust and old paint. I finished also the cleaning of the short cardan shaft and finally it ended as it should.

The weather was colder and colder every day and I had not much time to work. Rain was expected and it would be a problem if I wanted to paint the third axle because humidity, cold, and paint do not match pretty well. Hmm…

I took the aft superior strut and cleaned it as well; I cleaned again the third axle of all the dust accumulated after so many days of waiting and I put the struts back in, but I realized that it was better at that point to replace some of the bolts and nuts. Even if they were still useful they looked not as good as I wanted them to look after all the cleaning work. The point is that I had to get out and buy them, and I also had to go to work so, finally, I hardly reached the store before they closed and I could not paint anything that afternoon. I only had time to take a picture of the axle with the struts partially bolted.

The next day I could not go to the shop and the day after that it was cold and raining so, no paint for the axle that day.

I then decided to start working on the second axle and with a little luck I could paint both the axles at the same session, without having to clean the paint gun twice. I started to wash the axle with gasoline to remove the grease and the dirt of the surface and the corners of the axle just to be able to approach it. After consulting the manual and a technician from the Mercedes dealer in Santiago I got the guts to remove the aft short shaft to change the retainers that leaked. I feared that I would not be able to put the shaft back in but of course I was worried for no reason; Mercedes engineers designed that thing to be served as easy and fast as it was possible. Please, remember that I am not a mechanician.

Well, the bearing was in good condition and the retainers had been ordered so it was a matter of cleaning and waiting.

The front shaft presented no major problems and the only issue was to get the proper socket to remove the locknut, for I had no intention to buy such a socket for that only occasion. I then continued with the cleaning of the front façade of the shaft for a quiet long time. Why didn’t I clean the whole axle before taking the aft shaft, may ask someone … because I ended pretty high with the vapours of the gasoline after cleaning the aft part.

I made a half-hearted attempt to wrap the second axle to try to avoid it to rust with the humidity of the environment but it ended pointless. When I finished it was time to go home, again.

To make the story short I will only tell that that I could get the 65 mm. socket quiet easily after asking only at three workshops for buses and tractors at San Felipe. Fortunately I had met the owner before and he had no objections in borrowing me the socket for one day.

After applying a minimum torque, the big locknut came out and exposed the shaft and the retainers. Eduardo showed me how to remove them. I did not want to damage the old retainers but I realized that it was impossible to take them out without applying a little force. You know that I have a crush for pieces and parts and I do not like even the idea of replacing and discarding pieces away.

Anyway, the inner retainer came out under my own hammer hits and that was it. After cleaning, the shaft and the bearing looked in good condition too and there was not need for replacing the later. Good.

The retainers that had been ordered arrived a few days later than expected, as usual, and guess what… one of them was wrongly labelled and did not fit in the front shaft. I ordered the right one and I reassembled the aft shaft with the correct retainers.

I had to dedicate many afternoons to the servicing of the Montero, changing oils, filters, tie rod ends, the tappets, fixing the heater and the starter and so on, so I did not have much time left for the Merkabah.

The weekend arrived and Carmen and I went out for a long trip to test the performance of the “new” Montero on the highway. At some point, I thought I saw with the corner of the eye something quiet interesting by the side of the road near the coast. I could not avoid myself from pulling over and take the side road to watch and to ask, as usual.

[pairospam]

It was an old 4x4 Magirus firetruck, imported from the former eastern Germany by some german guy that lived in Valparaíso, for some kind of extreme-outdoor project that had not seen the light for a while. The machine was in pretty good shape but the elements had begun to affect the paint after all that time of exposure. The guy in charge used the truck from time to time to carry wood for his house.

We left the place hoping that the truck would survive the saline and humid conditions and that some loving character may find it and offer it shelter and a more elegant and useful purpose than been parked there under the merciless summer sun and the cold winter rain.

The image of the old Magirus remained spinning and aching in my mind but then I remembered for how long the poor Merkabah remained parked at the cattle before she was hauled to the shop, and then the reproof feeling faded away.

Back in San Felipe and back at the shop the next Monday afternoon I remained staring at the truck and I thought about how long it was, again, head turned downward, waiting for progresses, without protesting. That would have to change.

If you look, on the picture, at the base of the truck there is a power generator. We previously have tested a 2.800 W/h diesel generator that was so noisy that ended up at Eduardo’s house in the country, and everybody around realized that he was the only one with a generator when a wind storm cut the power lines the next weekend. The generator of the picture was a gasoline powered one but, even if the nominal power of both of them was the same, the diesel generator was more powerful. It was pretty noisy too, so it was judged unviable for the Merkabah.

I was not looking for a generator yet, of course, but some guy appeared and offered both for a very good price. I think I will aim for a soundproofed gasoline-powered 3.500 W/h (or plus) Honda generator when the time came. They are not cheap nor easy to find, though.

It was hard to wait for the retainer so I took the tools and profited of the time doing anything. I found out that the rust from the big brackets of the axles could be cleaned more deeply so I chiselled until there was no more chance to get more from them.

As I was in the mood I continued with the bogie and found out also that the rust formed between the main and the auxiliary frame rails have actually separated both of almost 15 mm., and you can see from the pictures that if it was not for the bolts of the stoppers of the rear axle the separation would have been continuous all along the rails.

The question was (is) what to do with the rust and what to do with the gap between the rails. The rust could be removed, even if it seemed pretty boring, and the rails approached by pressing but, was it worth? was it useful? Opinions varied.

More or less rust, the retainer finally arrived and, of course, it was the right one by catalogue but it was not the original Mercedes retainer. The difference was mild but significant enough to make it useless. Bad.

As I had not much to do about but ordering for the original retainer and wait for it to arrive, again, I decided to continue with the toilette of the second axle putting back the shaft, sealed with plastic at my best. Then I began to power brush it like crazy.

No doubt that the sand chamber is a very helpful aid to avoid dust from spreading around the shop and ruining open engines and mobile parts, but the dust locked inside the chamber is a disaster for the electric tools and kills pretty fast the carbons and the bearings. You can see the amount of rust dust that deposited over the power drill only after a few minutes of brushing with the power grinder.

Even if he wore a proper mask to work, the dust also had some effects on the operator, and the shower was mandatory before leaving the shop because he was covered all over, as is graphically shown on the picture. Of course, the bath of the shop had not hot water, and it was cold and raining that afternoon.

One of those days I received a call from an unknown dude that got my number from a third guy and asked me to rent the wheels. He had bought a 6x6 Beiben truck, the Chinese version of the Mercedes, to transform it in a mobile store for a very known sport wear brand. The thing is that he had bought 14.00R 20 tires from a Chinese dealer and they failed to arrive on time, and the opening of the store at a ski center near Santiago was scheduled one week before the new date of arrival of the Chinese tires.

I thought about the idea of renting the wheels for a whole day and I finally decided to do it because the guy seemed pretty urged and, as it had happened to me many times, other people have failed to deliver and his project was delayed. All my friends disagreed with me, though, Carmen included. As it was a commercial issue I asked him a lot of money for one week of rental, not for the money itself but for the fact that they were my brand new tires, with my rims, and anything that could happen to them, even a scratch on the rims, surely would have been pretty inconvenient and unhappy and difficult to repair. If something happened to a tire I would have to import a new one because there were no more left in the Chilean market, not even one.

Anyway, it seems that my conditions were so hard to fulfil that he did not call me back to say O.K. nor to say - Forget it!

Looking at the wheels the day after, splendidly useless kneeling on the office’s panels, they seemed to say to me: Pairoa… how could you even think of it!

[pairospam]

Hello everybody:

The Merkabah was waiting for progresses of any kind but as it has been said previously here these months have been scarce of time and news. At some point I felt a little imprisoned so the next weekend I invited Carmen to test the Montero/Pajero on hard roads and also on an improvised motocross circuit in the middle of the mountains. I must admit that the 4x4 riding of the old Mitsubishi was superior to the venerable and remembered Terrano. We ended that day watching the sunset at the beach.

With renewed spirit I came to the shop next Monday afternoon and the holly retainer of the front cardan shaft had arrived. I dressed up my greasy overall (I had to replace it for a clean one and forgot it, as usual), put in the retainers and started to clean the second axle for painting. With the last grams of clean sand I blasted the corners and angles still left untouched but unfortunately the sand was not enough to clean them all. I took back the sand that was on the floor but to recycle it I would have to clean it from dust, rust and pieces of metal and any kind of dirt, but as I was not on the mood nor I had time for that I would have to finish the cleaning with brushes.

To reach better all the surfaces to be cleaned I lifted the axle, moved the trestles and make it stand on the races. Not to mention how difficult was to get there with the portable winch. The old rubber stoppers were recycled as well to protect the races.

Then came the boring phase of powerbrushing the belly and the brackets of the axle; many hours of noisy and uncomfortable work with the electric tools but also with manual tools. I worked very late in the evening when I could.

[pairospam]

The result was pretty satisfying in the end, but…. Ah! the never wanted “but”, when I looked again at the third axle, supposedly ready for painting, I found that in comparison with the recently cleaned axle it surely needed more attention and care, I mean, to leave them even. I know… but this disease has no cure.

So, up with the third axle, let it stand on the races and prepare for brushing it all, again. As it was very late I repositioned it only and went home.

The next weekend was a long one because here in Chile we celebrate the “Virgen del Carmen’s day”, a catholic feast. I could really not stay at home so I early went to the shop to work and after many hours of power brushing I finished to clean both axles. With tingling hands and aching arms I put in the two inferior struts in the wrong position, facing front, to minimize the possibility of accidents. I still had to replace the silentblocks of the superior strut so I left it apart. I made some rough calculations and called Carmen to ask if she could wait for me to paint the axles before lunch. She, nice as usual, said yes and we agreed about a specific time for lunch.

I then gathered all the materials and instruments needed for painting but at the moment to prepare the wash-primer I could not remember the proportions of primer-catalyst-polyurethane diluent, and the label was history. Callings went, callings came but I did not reach the guy that sold me the paints and time was passing by. It then occurred to me to look for the old can of paint and I found it in the middle of a lot of paint-related garbage bag. The proportions were hand-written on the cover. Good.

I prepared enough paint for both axles, I thought, and sprayed the third axle first. After a little it was evident that my calculations were wrong and I was short of primer but at least I could give one hand to the second axle. Hmm… When I was finishing I realized that there were many tiny textile filaments on the surface and, suddenly, the paint became hairy. The idiot did not find any better than finishing the cleaning by passing a “clean” cloth and it left the axle covered with lint.

Hurried for I was late, after a couple of self-inflicted imprecations I shrugged and emptied the paint gun. I then cleaned it as fast as I could (I hate it, you know), took a couple of pictures and went home flying on the Africa Twin.

I arrived at 4:30 P.M. Carmen was waiting for me, with her incredible smile, to help her to put the table and to prepare the pasta. Oh… I love her.

It was a pretty good lunch.

[Maggus]

Hi,


I am impressed!

After you are finish, this truck is much better than originally build by Mercedes!!!


Best regards



Markus

[dollythelw]

Nothing short of truly inspirational - keep at it!

[pairospam]

Well, I am back here, trying to keep up with my self-imposed task of continuing with the Merkabah’s tales.

Once both naked axles were primed there came the less inviting stage of preparing all the braking and traction elements in order to assemble and put the axles back in the frame.

Just for a change and to remember that there is a whole world outside the job and the workshop: Carmen and I got a new bike-carrier for the Montero (as expressly forbidden by the maker) and drove a few kilometres north to a near country town to enjoy that unusually sunny Sunday. The afternoon was spectacular and the air was dry and clean as in springtime, but we are in mid-winter! and if it does not rain and snow soon we are going to be in serious trouble this summer.

When it comes to clean and prepare pieces I have fortunately tons of patience, so I picked them and started one by one with the known boring routine of the gasoline bath, the brushing and the power brushing. I started with the slack adjusters taking care of not letting gasoline come into the mechanism because they were sealed and I did not want to replace them. I do not know how many bolts and nuts followed the adjusters but seemed quiet a bit amount of them, and also there were the supports of the brake cams that were so dirty that I had to clean them twice just to be able to handle them.

Then I worked with the brake cams and the brake shoe brackets, with extra protection because there could be still some rests of ancient asbestos powder all around. After a while I could manage them more easily and with some twisting and hitting I could take out the caps and the old retainers. They were the original ones so you can imagine the quality of the grease remaining inside.

The ball-and-socket joints were in pretty bad shape, stuck by rust and dirt.

[pairospam]

I let the brackets soaking for a whole day before attacking them. I then spent many hours until the joints looked like they could maybe have looked once, who knows when.

Why to bother with all this restoration stuff? Just ask how much these pieces and the repair kits cost here in Chile and you will have a guessing, and only if they are in stock.

Once finished with the brackets I grabbed again the supports of the brake cams and (not easily) disassembled them to take the old grease and the retainers out. After cleaned and brushed they looked pretty well. The next picture, taken at the end of one of those working afternoons, do not show properly the amount of dirt that covered the once immaculate-white suit, but at least it is clear that it had lost the guarantee.

I then cleaned for good the brake shoe brackets and only a minimal amount of the old primer remained. I used hand and power brushes and a lot of time. I did not sand blast them, for obvious reasons, but… all those nasty corners!

And again the weekend arrived, and no rain. We went out for lunch, pretty late again that Saturday after working on the project, and after eating we took a long bicycle ride until sunset. The picture shows one of the thousand roads between the country estates near San Felipe with the mountains, our beloved Andes, at the back framing a silent sleeping walnut tree. Oh, I needed to get out to get rid of the tiredness of the cleaning process!

[pairospam]

The next Monday morning the second retainer of the yoke of the bogie finally arrived from Germany. The rest (almost) of the retainers also arrived and the pile of retainers and o’rings grew and grew waiting for the time to start to assemble the axles and the yokes. That moment seemed so far, though.

That week, as usual, I had not much time and hence there were not spectacular progresses. Moreover, I had to take off the sun shading film from all the windows of the Montero to pass the local TÜV, and it took me a whole afternoon to do so.

Anyway, the nuts and the bolts and the slack adjusters were still there waiting for cleaning, and there was no possible escaping. I bought lots of metallic brushes for the power drill and for the power grinder and dealt with the job, with a half hearted smile, while friends and curious passing by stopped and stared at me like saying: This guy is really nuts!

Patience… Hmm…

[pairospam]

Hello. After a few weeks I am back with this almost never ending story.

As someone has to pay for all the expenses of the Merkabah I had to work for real, and time for getting dirty became very scarce. I went back to the designing screen, though, and realized that I made some mistakes that needed to be corrected and some others that needed to be dealt with.

I really hate portable stairs so I decided to reinforce the doors of the rear utility boxes and put some folding steps I them. This way I would be able to access the cargo compartment and I could get to the bike carrier frame adding some kind snap-on steps, which I have not designed yet.

I also began to plan and distribute the systems of the Box, electricity, heating, hot and cold potable water, alarm, ventilation, drainage, lighting, gas, etc., for which Sketchup is pretty cool. Cool but slow, at least on my supercomputer.

When I reappeared by the shop I took a deep breath and prepared mentally for the cleaning of the elements of the planetary rear axles, job that that was left for the last. If you remember the state of them and the amount of oil and dirt you will know why. Anyway, after many days, many hours of washing, scratching, brushing, more washing, a couple of overalls and many liters of kerosene and gasoline the bell hubs, the wheel hubs and the gears were left at least in a decent state. It was a really dirty and heavy job counting with the brake soot, the old oil, the dirt, the myriad of crannies and all the kilos per piece.

I did not brush the pieces for the paint job, in part because I was a little pissed and in part because some guy that approached me when I was working told me about some magic product that you apply over the steel and eats the rust and the paint, leaving a neat surface that you can paint without rinsing. I knew that such products have always existed, but the price of one that really works, at least here in Chile, is really high. Waiting for him to give me the exact references I put the pieces orderly apart, wrapped in plastic to protect them from the dust that would come out when sand blasting the frame.

I worked even the Saturday evening and the next Sunday I invited Carmen to lunch out. When we were going to the restaurant suddenly she pointed out some red spot on the edge of the road. As always, I pulled out and drove back to investigate. In a careless yard there was a fire fighter Magirus Mercur 4x4, extraordinarily well preserved for its age. The amazing engine and front cooling fan were clearly visible behind the grill. I am aware that maybe for you in Germany it is a common find but here in my country and maybe in South America these trucks are extremely rare. Unfortunately there was no one to ask for more information around so we continued and enjoyed our lunch, even if the food tasted still of kerosene to me.

[pairospam]

Back at the shop the next Monday there was a nasty surprise waiting for me. One of the covers of the bell hubs had many cracks that were rendered evident after the washing with kerosene. It must have been hit directly and its internal and external aspects partially fractured in many places and there was no possible salvation. It was the cover of the dented bell hub that had to be repaired before disassembling so probably the damage had took place at the same moment, maybe. Always at the last moment, always the last piece or part…

I left the cover at the office without worrying too much, I am more than used to this, and went out to check what else could be possibly wrong as bad news never come alone. I realized then that there was a lot of boxes, pieces, dirt, wheels and many other stuff under, on and around the truck, as I wanted not to happen again. I then began to make some order and moved the “chamber” over the frame, moved the wheels and discarded a lot of boxes while I put the parts of the brakes in new ones to have them clean and ready to assemble.

I decided that I would not assemble the axles until the modifications to the rear suspension were ready because they were easier to move without those hundreds of extra kilos. I would put them on the boggie as they were and put the sway bar, the shock absorbers and the air suspension supports before assembling the brakes and the wheel hubs, then I will paint it all together.

Between boxes and boxes some missing bolts and nuts reappeared, good thing, but as they needed cleaning I had to go back, again, to the working bench to dedicate them some time. Ah… life is hard.

Back to the virtual Merkabah I realized that the weight distribution in the Box was incorrect. With both major water tanks, the batteries and the generator on the left side the truck would tilt as the 523 litres diesel tank on the right side emptied. With the air suspension the tilting might be corrected but I felt that it was better to eliminate the second water tank and occupy the space left to install the equipment for the purifying, heating, and impulsion of the clean water. Strategically seemed to be the right thing, but I am sure that I was going to miss those litres of fresh water. Hmm…

Another minor change was the stretching of the kitchen counter to the cabinet wall. In that way the fridge could be placed directly over it and then build the framing box around it instead of searching for a fridge that fitted some given space. Obvious… you might think, but I missed it.

I profited the impulse and erased some bytes and simplified the design of the bike/spare carrier frame, well at least it looked simpler on the screen.

[pairospam]

To finish with the rear axles affaire I went with the brake drums. The first was the one that was soaked in oil from the spill of the second axle and it was very hard to clean, and to move. Of course, in the end Pairoa won and after the usual cleaning cocktail and two washes with grease remover the piece of steel looked pretty good. The ret of the drums were not that dirty and the job was a little easier. All of them were in good working condition.

One of those days I got the e-mail announcing that the CTIS system that I had ordered was complete and ready to be shipped. The French guys took a couple of months to assemble or fabricate it, so I had almost forgotten about it. The control panel is pretty austere and almost military looking, but I preferred the manual version for its simplicity (and for its price, of course) and for it goes better with the old-timer looking of the truck’s dashboard. As you see, I continue to collect pieces for the Merkabah even if she is not still able to move.

Behind some boxes there was the cardan shaft that goes between the gear box and the second axle, as greasy and dirty as it was when I took it out. As it was the only thing left I grabbed it and started the cleaning routine, and after the degreasing and brushing it looked pretty much better. But the yoke had received many hits and it probably would need repairing or replacing in a near future. If that was the case the shaft from Spare would be a good donor.

Finally all the elements of the boggie were ready, except for the springs. These would have to wait until I had the time to do a specialist consultation and do the maths to modify the number and eventually reshaping of the leafs and, of course, for replacing the broken master leaf.

As there was not much space left the brake drums had to rest at the side of the cabin, waiting patiently for their time to come.

[pairospam]

I then started working on the rear part of the frame, al last. If you remember there was a lot of rust and dry mud to clean, so for a long time I was busy cleaning the surfaces and the crannies with manual tools in order to work the less with the sand blaster, which would do the final touch. In some places, as I stated before, the dirt was hard as a rock and I had to chisel a lot.

The hardest was the rust crust that developed between the main and the secondary frame rails. I was not even sure that all the time and effort spent taking it out was worth but I felt that it was better to do so. Besides, it looked awful… I could not just leave it there.

Tired after a lot of chiselling and spreading rust everywhere I stopped and did something different for a change. I buckled down to take out the exhaust muffler. It was in better condition than all the rest of the trucks that I had seen, usually replaced by home made mufflers of doubtful quality and pipes welded at wrong angles. I had to use the power grinder to loose the distal pipe, welded as well to the muffler and after securing the later (with wires, of course) I took out the left exhaust pipe without much trouble. But when I tried to remove the right side exhaust pipe it did not move a single millimetre. As it was late, as usual, I sprayed it with bolt-loosener and left. There would be enough time, I hoped, the day after.

Well, when the time came I made a lot of tries to take the pipe off from the muffler fruitlessly. It seemed to be inlaid to the end of the muffler. I took down the muffler and tried to take it out from the frame but no matter how much I contorted I could not loose the exhaust. I hit it with a big piece of wood but nothing, so I asked Carmen a cup of tea and sprayed a little more bolt-loosener and moved on.

Now that the muffler was out the bulky gear box/transfer was totally exposed, and the next job was to clean it and prepare it for painting. It was also necessary, of course, to clean the rest of the frame, the supports and all the corners full of some crusty mix of dirt, grease and rust.

You can see from the pictures that the whole thing is something dirty, but actually it was far more disgusting and tenacious that you can infer from the images. I worked a couple of hours and it seemed that nothing had changed.

The next day I made a half-hearted try to remove the exhaust pipe and then grabbed the power grinder and cut the pipe. The thing opened as a flower and both components separated, at last. It was not a nice picture but it only affected my ego; the muffler was going to be replaced anyway.

Before hitting my head for the third time I also cut the support of the hydraulic pump once connected to the PTO.

[manawhatu]

WOW.....what more can i say.....i wish,i had the Skills and Possibilitys,to do such a great Work with my Mercedes.I can imagine,what a great feeling it must be to come that far.Thats really an Inspiration. CONGRATULATIONS Olli

[pairospam]

Olli: thanks for your lines. I think that anyone can do whatever he wants... there is always a way. If not... you must invent it!

A couple of close ups of the gearbox before resuming the cleaning show in better way the state of its left side and the bottom after the former partial cleaning. Scraping before cleaning and washing was capital as the grease remover was not able to deal with the job by itself, and there were some points where I had to chisel again to take the dirt off. The electric wires were stuck in this kind of cement as they passed between the cross member and the main rail of the frame, and the state of the wiring itself was far from optimal. More to work on later.

After many hours there were several kilograms of dirt and pebbles under the gearbox, but it seemed that there was no difference comparing before and after. The cramps at the arms and forearms told differently, though, and I had only dealt with the left side.

That weekend we and Eduardo’s familiy made a trip to the coast to a place called Ritoque, a sea of dunes many kilometres wide. I had never gone there before and it was the right time to do it, to test the performance of both Monteros on the sand and to test the dunes themselves because they were going to be the test circuit for the Merkabah in a (hoping) near future.

We had a very great time and the 4x4s are by far the best standard offroad vehicles I had ever driven, even better than the Terrano, and I loved her. The dunes were proven and approved so the truck would have his chance to navigate them as soon as possible.

The next working session I continued with the rest of the surfaces of the gearbox and the frame, and even the hydraulic pump for the tilting of the cabin needed some putty knife work; everything was covered by this sticky thing. I also dedicated some time to lose the wiring from the frame so I could finally remove it completely. That way it would not longer block the cleaning and painting of the frame and I would be able to inspect and repair it carefully. I was only hoping to be able to put every connector back in place as I could never get the wiring diagram. Life is hard.

[pairospam]

One of these days the broken bell hub cover replacement arrived. I got it for a good price from an importer and scrap dealer. It was the right one even if the codes did not coincide at all. Good.

I suddenly realized that I had not ordered the gaskets for the covers, and given the difficulties I had been experiencing the last weeks trying to contact the authorized dealer I went out and bought some velumoid and after a while the six gaskets were ready. I left them on top of the pile of gaskets and retainers and that was it.

Well, I spent a long time trying to clean as much as possible of the frame and the gearbox. I got tired of chiselling between both primary and auxiliary rails of the frame so I grabbed the big power grinder to deal with the rust crust between them, at least for portion of it. Of course there was a cloud of dust and rust particles but the fresh September wind washed it away quickly and I had no complains from the people working at the shop. The final touch was made by hand, of course, but the time spent was much less. There were several meters to deal with, anyway.

The next weekend Eduardo and I went to the cattle, once again, carrying the diesel generator that I had rejected as noisy, and Christ… how I was right! Hanging fiercely the big power grinder I hoped to finish Spare’s suffering applying the quietus to the frame, but after a couple of minutes, in the middle of a rain of sparkles but no advances I found out that something was wrong. As I was prepared for the contingency I then took the little power grinder with the 1 millimetre cutting disk and the frame could not oppose any major resistance. Once cut no one, not even I, could revive Spare. Finally he was freed to rest in peace.

The pieces required for stretching the tail of the Merkabah were shorter but I took a bigger portion including the front cross member to get material to work with to fabricate supports or anything that could be necessary. We loaded the donor piece of steel on the Mitsubishi L200 and took a brief rest to let our ears heal, to eat a couple of oranges of the season and to discuss about ecology.

We planned to fabricate an hydraulic press with the remainings of the frame so they will wait there for the time and the wills to do so. We left with our cargo leaving the old Ford that belonged to Eduardo’s father in company of a younger member that was waiting for repairing. It was all a family matter.

Back at the shop I checked the tail of the frame and remembered that the upper tip of the wing of the left rail was bent downwards, probably due to an ancient trauma. I was not on the mood of inventing any brilliant and complicated method of straightening the metal so I hung the old anvil from the rail to stabilize it and with the sledgehammer I hit the steel until I found that it was enough. After the practical and brief manoeuvre the rail and the graft would match appropriately.

[pairospam]

Hello.

Well... yes… I have been busy…

Once the piece of the frame from Spare was taken to the shop I began to disassemble it to get the rails. I did not know at that time what would I do with the cross member, but some twinkling idea would surely come up later. However, the disassembling that seemed to be a simple task ended up with an almost two hour struggle to remove the bolts and the rivets. The guys at Mercedes knew what they were doing! I had to cut the heads, drill and heavily hammer the rivets to take them out, and I hit my own leg and broke the dearest drill tool in the process.

Naturally in the end Pairoa was the victorious one and, hurt and all, disassembled the bloody thing. Then both rails and the cross member were separated and once the measures were ascertained they would be marked and cut as required. Of course, before continuing I had to clean the place as with every hit of the sledgehammer the dirt cumulated from the years of working and from the time lying on the dusty cattle went off the frame and ended up on the floor of the shop. I profited to finish putting in order the rest of the pieces already cleaned. Then the working space was clear again and the next step could begin.

The next step was to measure and mark the frame and then cut both pieces for the stretching of the frame of the Merkabah. Using a couple of metallic profiles and the presses it looked that there would be no major problems. The graft rails were wider than the original rails but the inferior parts could be left longer and overlapping so it could provide a better surface for welding and better resistance.

I had to remove the cross member from the tail to allow for the auxiliary rails to be put in position to test if they fitted and to see if any other manoeuver was of use. The bolts were heavily stuck and the inner aspects of the frame showed obvious signs of damage from rust.

[pairospam]

When I put the overlaping auxiliary rails they fitted perfectly, as if they had been fabricated thinking on those particular moments and intentions.

What was not perfect was the need for replacement of the supports of the crossmember; the holes did not match with the holes of the grafted rails and the auxiliary rails shortened the distance between both rails. But I knew that in advance, of course.

A little bored of so much steel I stepped up into the cabin and grabbed the short cardan shaft that remained there since we took the Merkabah from the cattle. I guess I missed the vapours of gasoline (have I become an addict?). Of course the dirt and the grease were not a few, never was, and after a little cleaning I could see that the retainers of the cardan joints showed signs of tiredness. I left them soaking in bolt loosener and looked for other things to do. That afternoon I left the shop a little earlier than usual with a very pleasant feeling: the stretching of the frame ad portas supposed a major step, or at least I wanted to think it that way. I cleaned and ordered everything and closed the shop after taking a picture of how the truck would look the next day and forever after.

Saturday morning I tried to weld a broken cover of the drum brake but I could not find the welding mask. I finally left without making pretty much of anything. It was our independence day so we went to the country to celebrate with Carmen’s family. After a generous lunch I went out for a little promenade and found a pretty sad picture nearby. Under an inadecuatelly colorfull mesh there were the remains of a poor 4x4 Mercedes. It turned over with full cargo and it was practically destroyed. The number 1114 was barely visible on the capot and the engine was missing, the aft part of the broken gearbox still in place. Sad destiny for a truck that could have been a good base for a 4x4 motorhome. Life is hard.

I went to Santiago on the bike the next Monday and after an absurd but spectacular fall at the parking yard of the Mercedes dealer I got the o’rings and the seals that I was waiting to complete the brakes since a month at least. I asked the seller how much costed the original cardan joints and he tapped vigourously the keyboard and waited for the machine to search for and show the data. I saw him lift one eyebrow and instinctively I prepared myself for something terrible. The cardan joint costed almost 1.000 euros, each. Ah. I grabbed my little bag with the 15 euros parts and went out. I spent the next three hours looking for less costly alternatives in downtown and I tought I found them at the Plan B store, I just had to wait for them to get them from another store and send them to San Felipe later that day or the next.

Back in San Felipe a few hours later I finished the cleaning of the famous short cardan shaft and I struggled a little with the Segers lock rings; they did not want to get out from where they had been for the last thirty years. Of course I could not take out the cardan joints without an hydraulic press so I left that job for the next day.

[pairospam]

What was left of the afternoon was pretty interrupted and I could not make many advances. The tail of the frame had to be finished as soon as possible to begin with the preparation of the frame itself in order to assemble the axles. I called maestro Chaleco and agreed to meet the next morning. One last look and a shot at the Merkabah with her frame intact for the last time, the grafts ready for welding. I could have welded them myself, but I have still a little common sense left so I preferred to call a professional for that quiet important task.

The next morning Chaleco arrived punctual, something really, really strange for a Chilean, and we got to work immediately. I was in my holydays but I woke up each day at 6:00 for my morning run, as usual, so I had no problem to work early. Carmen could not believe it, she loves to sleep.

A few instructions and tests, some bivelling of the edges and almost one kilogram of 70/18 welding rods after and the tail of the frame was finally stretched by the maximum reglamentary 42 centimetres. The inner auxiliary rails and the overlapping would confere extra resistance. Good.

Unfortunately and despite all our precautions the frame widened because of the deformation of the welding process, so in the end there was a difference of 12 milimetres between the main rails. Maybe it was not too much but I considered that unacceptable and so it had to be corrected when assembling the cross member.

Widened as they were the cross member could be mounted between the rails with its original supports but they had yet so many holes that it was better and safer to change them anyway. An inferior supple would also be necessary, hmmm…

So, as it was already planned, Eduardo and I went again to the cattle, with the same impetus and the same fuss, and another piece of the frame of the passed away Spare was borrowed from its remains.

[Lassie]

... whenever I read your posts



Hope your baby is rolling soon!

Best regards from Dhaka, Bangladesh
Juergen

[pairospam]

Thanks again, Juergen. I really hope it too.

Back at the shop I separated the main from the auxiliary rail and I then realized that the steel of the later was one millimetre thinner than the supports of the cross member. It was of no use, at least as donor for the new supports. As the main rail was crossed by many lines of welding I preferred not to use it either, so I switched to plan B, again, and took the pieces from the front rails left from the previous grafting work. I made the proper measurements and with the power grinder I cut the new supports from thicker steel.

The original supports were slightly curved to follow the shape of the cross member but I could do nothing about it at the shop with the tools at my reach. I took them to the machinery shop of my friend Verardo where one of his workers and myself used the 50 ton press to curve the new supports as the original ones. Thanks, Verardo.

Everything fitted perfectly when the pieces were put together, even the inferior supples were no longer necessary. An excess of bending was corrected with the gentle use of the big sledgehammer and voilá!

It all looked straight ahead then, just mark and drill, but… as always… I was wrong. It was just the beginning of a never ending series of assemble, tighten, mark, disassemble, make sure, drill with caution not to burn the little Bosch, re-assemble, make sure and mark again, tighten from the other side, mark, go on and on, each time more weary as every piece became heavier and heavier with the effort needed to drill the holes in the hard steel. Of course I only drilled the new smaller pieces as I wanted not make any extra hole in the main rails that could compromise their resistance. I only drilled a few holes of the left side of the frame.

I went out to buy some ad hoc bolts and nuts as it was evident that I was going to need them and when I came back I found that the pack with the cardan joints ordered a couple of days before was arrived. I was surprised by the fact that the grease fitting was placed in the middle of the joint and not at the extreme of the dice. That was the reason of the big difference between the price of those joints and the original ones. I asked if they were the only ones and the answer was a categoric yes. The fitting was too big for the narrow space between the joint and the yoke.

The next day I took the cardan shaft and the superior strut of the boggie with me at work, my winter vacations were over. Victor, the all-fixing-guy, helped me to replace the silentblocks of the strut in his little workshop. What started easily ended up in a couple of hours of hard work with the strut and the 20 tons hydraulic press.

[HildeEVO]

Hi Pairo,

incredible, I dosen't have this enthusiasm. Big respekt!

I hope it comes true that we can meet us somewhere in the world!

Get forward...

Chris

[pairospam]

Thanks, Chris.

Juan, one of the other McGyver-type workers, helped out too and together we managed to change the old and rusted silentblocks by the new ones. The rust that wrapped the inner spacer ring made it all difficult but in the end we vanquished the evil. Actually, the silentblocks were the first spare parts that I ever bought for the truck, so they were not truly new.

Then we took the cardan joints that I decided to replace even if they showed no big external sign of tearing except for a couple of bent dust retainers. It was a good exercise to stand the heavy piece while aiming the press bolt, pressing from one side and then the other side, taking out one desperately stuck die and then the other. Finally, when the first joint was out I found out that I was right, the races were severely damaged. We took out the other cardan joint and I left with the strut and its shining new silentblocks, leaving there the shaft and the yokes. I knew that the joints should be modified prior of even attempting to assemble them as the grease fittings would not fit in.

At the shop Eduardo and I discussed the plan B for the cardan joint issue and I resumed the work on the tail of the frame. I had drilled only one side of the frame so I needed to drill the holes of the opposite side that, if you remember, was not aligned as the distance between the rails widened after welding. I had to use all the manual presses and a little strength to put everything in place. The error then was of only 2 millimeters. I decided that it was better to leave the pieces all together and drill them directly where they were, but I knew that it would be bad for the little power drill as the control of the forces applied could not be managed as good as if I was drilling each piece individually in a comfortable position. I could only drill holes of 13 millimeters as the drill head accepted no bigger drill broaches. I needed to drill 14 millimeters holes so I had to get a more powerfull drill along with bigger broaches. The pretty abused little Bosch refused to stop drilling and I used it very carefully to save of it as much as I could, but the broaches got the worst part and Eduardo helped by sharpening them very often.

The next day at midday I rode to Santiago on the Africa Twin with the failed cardan joints. I visited the most prestigious dealers of cardan joints and shafts in the city and none of them had the pieces I needed, and I did not want to pay two thousand euros for the original ones. Then, with no scape, I had to swich for plan B. I went to lunch to a very reknown place and, to feel better, I ordered and ate in a rush two giant “lomito palta tomate queso” (tenderloin-avocado-tomato-cheese) sandwiches under the astonished gazes of the waitresses. Ahh… very good therapy if you feel somewhat frustrated. I had to work that afternoon and I rode a little faster than expected on the highway when coming back to San Felipe, so I got a fine from the police. Life can be really hard sometimes.

[pairospam]

Merkabah's tale goes on:

I went to Juan Carvajal´s shop, a very experienced turner, and he modified the 14 mm. bit so it could fit in the little Bosch. There were no bigger power drills at the stores of San Felipe. I left by the turner the cardan joints as he said he would try to fix them. There was a non negligeable possibility that the joints could be ruined on the process, but it would not hurt as bad as paying € 2.000. With the modified bit I was able to finish some of the many holes that needed to be completed. Eduardo sharpened the drills on demand.

And the weekend came, again, and I could start working early on the shop. As my scort of drill bits was finished and Eduardo was not there to sharpen them I went out to buy some new ones and I profited to visit the turner to see how the modification of the cardan joints was going. When I arrived there he was just starting to dress an overall that competed with mine in the amount of dirt and grease. I wished him luck and got back to the shop, to my own business.

After a couple of hours fighting with the omnipresent rust between the rails of the frame I had to leave the shop and pick up the lady that would help Carmen and I with the ironing, that disgusting domestic activity. I did not came back to the shop and later in the afternoon Carmen and I went to Santiago to a meeting with other people with similar projects for dinner. A nice couple that went to the meeting was going to begin that next week his five-years world tour on their Iveco Daily self-made camper, others were finishing the interior of the box of their brand new Atego 4x4, another couple was at the beginning of the building of his 4x4 Mercedes SK 2038 motorhome and others have brought their truck to a yacht builder to make the box of their new brazilian make 4x4 Mercedes. Some other couples had equally interesting projects. Nice and open people with a common dream to share. We are only a few in Chile, but it is better than being alone, as I supposed I was a couple of years ago.

I have some nice pictures of these projects and no one here has any problem with freely publishing them, but I do not know if it is okay with the administrators of this site. I will upload them, just a few, if there is no objection.

We came back to San Felipe at 5:30 in the morning so, of course, I did not touch a tool that Sunday, not at all.

Monday was a totally different thing. Eduardo sharpened all the bits and I used the faithfull little power drill until the head squeaked and, finally, died. After four years of hard use and abuse the machine did not accept any other bit, even if the engine was still running. I had previously said that when it died I would buy another drill of the same brand and make, but bigger, to honor its almost indestructibility.

When I was at the store, though, I succumbed to the stupid temptation of buying a Chinese drill that was twice as powerfull and at half the price of a Bosch upgrade. It looked good and someone had elogious comments about the brand. Error.

I stepped on the frame and after the first five holes the oriental machine simply stopped working. It is almost pointless to mention that the stabilizer handle broke at the first tightening effort. So I went to the store and took another one, without any comment from the guys of the store. The new drill performed well until I had to force it a little more and then a lot of smoke came out from the engine. The little Bosch never did that even if it was at its limits. Curiously the drill did not stop working so I continued drilling until there were no more than pieces of broken bits all around and my forearms were aching badly.

In the end there was only one hole left to be completed and widened to 14 milimetres, only one, when the last bit broke. Always at the last possible moment. The alignment of the rails was quite straight, though.

The next day the turner delivered the modified cardan joints, but he wanted me to give him a new kit of drill broaches because he had ruined a couple of them while perforating the hard steel bearing cap. I gave him six new broaches, payed him a risible amount of money he asked me for the job and asked him to modify another 14 mm. drill bit. I took the bit and the joints to the shop and they looked perfect. The relocated grease zerk would allow lubrication of the joint from one point to the other three and the central lubrication point would be blocked with a bronze closed nut. Everything okay… it seemed… but overconfidence had some more tricks up its sleeves. I will tell later.

I then went to the store and gave back the second smoke-smelling power drill and took a new but bigger Bosch, the one that I had to buy in the first place. Neither that time the guys at the store said anything to me, they surely were used to it as those power drills are really crap.

[pairospam]

With the new drill I finished the last 14 mm. hole remaining and then the frame stretching manoeuvres were over, at last. I just had to prepare the pieces, cleaning and priming, before going on.

I took then the big Makita with the big brush and the little grinder with the laminated discs and began to clean the crossmember. It was big and the rust was not as superficial as I expected so it took me quit a while. I switched from time to time to the power brushing of the rails of the frame because I got pretty bored and tired by handling the heavy machine.

I made a pause to allow for my hands to stop tingling and I took out from the pile of used parts the rear sway bar from Spare. It was a relief to use traditional hand tools for a moment. I disassembled the bar and realized that it had been used, abused and badly repaired as you can see from the pictures. I would have to take the pieces to the turner to make a proper reparation and I would have to buy the repair kit because the rubber and plastic bushings were asking for retirement. Until the boggie was assembled I would not know if the links needed some stretching.

I resumed the cleaning of the pieces but Eduardo asked me to stop because the clouds of rust dust were filling the workshop and the mechanicians were complaining. I was pretty safe and relaxed with my suit, my goggles, my ear plugs and my mask, but I had forgotten the rest of the world! I left the tools, undressed, washed and went with Carmen and drank tea for the rest of the afternoon.

The next day was Saturday, so I went early to the shop after the morning running session, and resumed the cleaning of the tail of the frame and the new born pieces. I worked many hours until I got ready, that is, until I got enough, and went home. I invited Carmen for a late lunch out and after that we went for a promenade. We passed by the place where the Magirus firefighting truck stood and it was open so we pulled over and asked for more information about it.