Allrad-LKW-Gemeinschaft

Back again at the shop, I decided that I would continue to fit the front suspension. The massive array of leafsprings should go and I would have to figure out the best arrangement for the purposes of the Merkabah; double shock absorbers and an air spring had to fit in. The sway bar issue was already done.



First of all, I had to remove the frontal cardan shaft. This I tried to take out many times in the past, with no success, but I followed Eduardo’s advice and sprayed a tiny amount of Rost Off in between the two stuck front flanges. Almost like a miracle, the day after both pieces were loose without even the necessity of a hit. I repeated the maneuver on the aft flanges, between the cardan and the gear box, and also the day after it was loose. Good.




Meanwhile, the truck had to stand on the frame to work freely on the front suspension, so I looked for the best way to make it and finally I used the trestles, all of them, a couple of trunks and some pieces of wood. It came a pretty stable and solid arrangement, or so it seemed.



With the cardan shaft out and the axle free of load I removed the U brackets and then began the crappy job of taking down the axle with the aid of the jack and the jackstands, and also of Alejandro, whose help was capital to stabilize the axle when moving the stands.




As expected, one of the central bolts was broken, and also one of the spring leaves, who knows how many years before. I thought it could be worse, though.




It was a good idea to stand the axle on the moving tray, even if the wheels were a little weak for that amount of steel. Once removed from under the truck, with more than one protesting wheening, the place was free enough to work easily, or to jump off if there was a quake.

If you remember, I planned long ago to use the supports from Spare to hold the second shock absorbers. The difficult part was to find the right box where I stored them, obviously the one that had no marks on the outside. Hmm…

I bolted in place the support and took out some of the leaf springs that I calculated were useless for the new suspension and held in place each component, including the same model of air spring used in the rear suspension. If it fitted it was a good thing as I needed to have the same kind of spare and not two different ones.




I took the leaf with the round extreme that held the bolt for the shock absorber to a guy that worked exclusively with spring suspensions, not the same I bought from the main leaves for the boggie, but another one that had been strongly recommended to me by a colleague, as crazy as myself for modified cars.

Guillermo was the guy’s name, and he was so interested in the project that accepted to make a new piece with two rounded extremes and he showed up in the shop ten minutes later. He asked the classical questions and some others very specific and criticized positively the layout of the suspension of the boggie. He also suggested me to change the last leaf that I had chosen for the spring pack for a shorter one and he explained why and how to make the proper shim to replace the removed springs and preserve the overall height of the suspension.



As the things were finally moving I continued examining the components of the suspension and realized that the bushings of the springpacks were worn out pretty badly and the play was not acceptable. So, I took the tools and the sledgehammer and made the pins out of the shackle of the left side. As feared, the bushings were dead and even the shackle had suffered the lack of proper greasing and overloading. The shackle bolts were a potpourri of pieces, all of them bent and useless.




I moved to the opposite side and fought again a little to remove the shackle and the bushings. The last ones were just a poor memory of what they were once.




It was not an easy nor a fast job, and I could not even remove one of the aft bushings and, to make it more difficult, I had not access to the front bushing of the right side unless I removed the radiator, which I really did not want to do, and I could not remove the front locking bolt of the left side.

It was late so I put all back in order and took a picture of the state of the work. Nothing seemed to change even if the hours passed and the efforts multiplied.



One of those days the other expedition truck arrived, with Kurt and Elizabeth from Switzerland on board. They parked at the same place where Stefan and Petra were.

They were very nice people and we went all out for dinner and for lunch when possible. If you pay attention to the picture we actually were having a good time together eating sushi on the 45th floor over Times Square.



At the shop, when I found some time for the Merkabah again, I removed the air cleaner along with the filter element to gain access to the front bracket. I did not want to touch the radiator or the hoses.

I could then reach and remove the bolts, but there was no way to losen the bracket, stuck to the frame rail as if they were one piece.



After trying different methods, more or less traumatic, I gave up and sprayed some Rost-Off to see if the magic worked also there. Even after working at least three hours, there was no change at all in the way things looked.

Stefan and Kurt at their time worked on Kurt’s truck, a very nice looking Axor with a Unicat living cabin. Kurt needed solar power and Stefan was the man for the job; he had already installed new batteries and made some other adjustments and repairs. The solar panels were about to arrive to San Felipe from Santiago and Stefan was making all the connections on the roof and thinking on how to make the panels tilt to improve their efficiency.



Another traveller, Christian from Austria, showed up with his heavily equipped Land Rover and profited of the parking place. The Defender looked like a swiss army knife. They all met before in southern Chile. The professional cook travelled alone and happy, taking his time to move from one place to another, with no finish line on sight for his round the globe trip.





I went to see Guillermo, the spring guy, to get the pieces for the shock absorbers but they were not ready yet. Almost… he said, covered by an incredible amount of dirt, and it was true; just drill the hole for the central bolt and that was it. We had a brief chat and I asked him to get the bushings and also the locking bolts for the shackle pins. It was his business so he knew where to look.




At the shop, later on, I finally removed the locking bolt of the left spring shackle and the whole spring pack followed. It fell on the ground soundly because I misjudged its weight, again.

The shackle had a pretty odd and old looking. One of the bolts was broken and there was no nut in the front. The hole for the shackle pin was severily worn out and excentric. It was screwed and I needed to replace it.





Trying to unbolt the shackle I lost the concentration only for a tenth of a millisecond and I smashed my thumb against the frame rail. It really hurt. For a while I was only able to do simple things with one hand, so I undusted the axle and took out one kilo of rust.




The next day I resumed the work on the rusted bolts of the shackle and finally took out the piece without hurting myself again, for a change. The frame was not bad but I couldn’t remove two of the bolts. More Rost-off, and time.



As I finally could not remove the schackle nor the bolts of the right side despite all my efforts, I removed the pins and the springpack and checked the pin hole; fortunately it was okay and there was not need for replacement.



The support for the air filter was still disturbing so I took it off. I really did not want to continue to take out more parts from the truck. I profited the moment to take out the plastic bracket to remove the rubber boot that risked of being damaged (bitten) by Dakar and Sparkplug, the guardian dogs. The maneuver took some time because the tiny bolts were also rusted and I wanted for no reason to damage the bracket. Getting a new boot and another bracket could turn to be a pretty difficult or even impossible task.




Saturday afternoon; Stefan and I went to the cattle to look for one of the springpacks left from Spare. They were still lying on the ground where Eduardo and I put them almost a couple of years ago; do you remember? The picture is several months old. I chose the one that was complete and we loaded it on the Montero. Good Christ… it was heavy!

We took it to the shop and began to disassemble it. The front shackle was healthy and could be recycled, but the aft one was a mess and it looked like its good times had passed long time ago.




I looked the CV joint and suddenly felt terribly afraid because I had already looked for spares some time ago, and the price was frightening high. Well, I asked again, and I was right. Just the cross joints costed a fortune, and there were four of them. As I write this I still have no clear solution for it, and the price of the same parts in Germany was very close, if not more expensive. I put everything back in order and closed the door of the workshop. Enough for a Saturday.



The next day the swiss, the germans, Carmen and I went to lunch and to visit a nice place on the mountains, the San Francisco Lodge, owned by a friend of mine, former neighbor. We had a good time visiting the lodge and she treated us especially well, given the late time we got there. The meal was good and the view spectacular, and the big boys amused themselves as kids. It was a nice afternoon.





The next Monday it was a very busy day for me and I went to see very late how the travellers were. Stefan was working on the frame of the solar panels for Kurt’s truck. I gave them a hand and it soon started to rain, something most wanted but rarely seen until then. We improvised a plastic awning and the work continued until my feet frost.



One of these days the spares for the Africa Twin finally arrived. As always, it was nice to see all the pieces new, shining in their clean envelopes. Great. It was time to begin to assemble and to put the bike back in shape and to take it out from the middle of the working place to avoid damaging it and to work more easily and safely on the truck.

Evidently, working on the bike meant to stop working on the Merkabah. I sighed, again, and began to wash pieces, something that had to be done but that I profoundly hate. Anyway, to wash I began, with a fake smile stamped on my face.



I was high in the middle of the vapours of the gasoline when the drag link for the steering arrived from Santiago, with a delay of a couple of days. It went directly to the pile of new-spares-to-be-used-in-a-near-future.



The washing proceeded until all the parts were shining, and they went all into boxes to wait for the moment Eduardo and I would coincide for the assembling.





Meanwhile, the Merkabah patiently waited, and waited, as usual. The plan this time consisted in making up the whole suspension, from the shackles to the inferior plate of the brackets of the axles, then servicing the axle, the shafts and so on. Would I stick to that plan? Probably not, but it was a plan… at least.



The work on the panels also went on and soon they were mounted on the hand-made aluminium frame. Stefan made up four rubber corner supports for the panels so they can be lifted to catch more of the flat winter sun. The state-of-the art piece of engineering just waited for little retouches before being ready to sit on the roof of the cabin. I went to work and a few hours later I came back to help with the maneuver.

Four grown up men were needed to take the panels to the roof successfully. There were tense moments but in the end the fragile structure was in place and Stefan fixed it to the airline-profiles. The rubber supports worked very well. Previous essays showed that lifting 30° the panels could improve 300% their efficiency.






The problem that arised, previously predicted, was that the panelswere a little heavy and lifting them should be done by some sort of mechanism, but Kurt and Elizabeth wanted to leave in a few days because they had some meetings already scheduled. The issue would be addressed in a few months, when they returned from Switzerland.



A couple of days later I prepared and cleaned it all to start with the assembling of the engine of the Africa Twin. I started at the order of Eduardo to remove the valves and then we realized that the valve retainers were not included in the box of new spares. Ops. A call to the Honda dealer, another “Ops” at the other end of the line, and the fortune of having the last kit of valve retainers on stock. I also ordered a new set of spark plugs, just because we were already there.




We removed the valves, cleaned and adjusted them very carefully, cleaned carefully the cylinder heads and wrapped them in plastic film, just to put them back in place in the boxes. Hmm…



That afternoon we went out for dinner for the last time, the whole team, to the already known sushi restaurant. It was the only place open in San Felipe and around. For a change, I had a call and went to work on arrival but, fortunately, I could manage to come back to eat my portions of sushi before they passed away. At midnight we celebrated Christian’s 39th birthday with a soft drink, the only available, and an ice cream dessert offered by the owner of the restaurant. He was very happy, and so were we.

The next day the Swiss couple wanted to leave early but Christian gifted us all with a quiet delicious lunch. He is a professional cook, so you can imagine the taste of the cuz-cuz and the meat he prepared. The lunch prolonged until late in the afternoon, so late that Kurt and Elizabeth decided that it was better to leave the next day in the morning. And so they did, heading north to La Serena and from there to Argentina.




Back in the workshop, I resumed the work on the truck and tried, fruitlessly again, to remove the bracket for the shock absorber from the springpack of Spare. All this rust! I soaked it with Rost-off and left it aside after struggling a lot with a big lever and the heavy sledge hammer. Heat would be the answer.



Fortunately the two front bushings of the spring packs were weaker and I removed them without too much sweating. Every move, though, consumed a lot of time, as usual, and after making a lot of efforts it looked like nothing had changed at all. Pretty frustrating, but it had been the same since the beginning of the project.



I went to pick the new spring leaves from Guillermo’s and he included six new locking bolts in the pack. The bracket needed some grinding retouches but, all in all, it was not bad. The idea was taking shape slowly but consistently.




A poor empty box served as donor of cardboard for the mockups of the pieces needed to adjust the airsprings to the springpacks superior plates. The round base plate had to be easily removable to allow the U brackets to be placed and taken off when needed so an intermediate piece had to be welded to the plate.



As always, Spare’s never-ending pieces of frame were the source of steel. After some sparks and a lot of noise the pieces were almost ready for machining.




After closing the workshop to the customers, and let the dust settle, Eduardo helped me a little more with the assembling of the engine of the Africa Twin. We assembled both the cylinder heads and did a few little things and it was too late to continue.

What I did next Saturday morning was to fill up the holes with welding and finished the grinding of the round plates with the help of a new clutch disc that was nearby. Eduardo did not approve, afraid for the spare’s integrity, but the pieces went really okay and the clutch unharmed. Then I went out and bought a set of threading tools and the conic bolts needed. I had not time to do more.

To drill the holes for the bolts I thought it would be better to use a pedestal drill press instead of making it by hand, at least this time. I would use Victor’s drill again, at the workshop of the hospital.




On Sunday we went to Santiago for a sightseeing tour with our german visitors. Unfortunately the big city had a high level of air pollution; the forecast had been wrong twice during the week and there had been not a single drop of rain to wash all the smog out. Nevertheless, we went through the lazy weekend traffic and visited some of the most distinctive neighborhoods of the city, including the crystal and concrete commercial ones and some of the oldest places, including the bohemian district, with plenty of restaurants, and downtown with all the government buildings. I put some pictures taken during the tour as I think they can be of interest for some, to have an idea of what an average-big-city of the third world looks like.














For us it was also interesting, I mean, visiting the city as tourists. Normally I avoid going there if I can, and I always end up stressed and tired, back in San Felipe, thinking that they must be crazy to live there, those city people.

It was a absolutely pleasure spending the time with Pairoa and his Wife Carmen. They live in a cosy town in a beautiful Mountain surrounding. Thank you very much that we could spend time together.

Who is interested...our latest report is ready to read... incl. our time in San Felipe.
See the link at the bottom

Cheers
Petra and Stefan

The pleasure of having Stefan and Petra with us was all ours! We wish them lots of safe and interesting trips in America and the rest of the world. We will keep in touch and surely we will meet again, who knows when or where.

Monday afternoon, again, pretty late. We assembled the gear shafts, put on the cranckshaft and replaced the oil pump of the Africa Twin. The pump was not bad at all but there was no point in closing again the engine with the used one. We closed both halves of the cranckcase to check the mechanisms, but we noted that the shifting of the gears was not as smooth as expected, so we opened it, checked and re-checked but it was so late that we had to cover everything back and go home. Hmm…





The next day I took with me the steel pieces and after finishing my regular work I spent the afternoon with Victor at his little workshop, drilling and drilling. He devoted a lot of his time to help me with the welding and preparing of the pieces. We were there and Stefan passed by to make a visit and stayed until late aiding, as always, to get the job done properly.





We were at it when the rain finally started to fall over San Felipe, and lots of rain. I went to work on the bike and Stefan was on feet so we both went home later on aboard Eduardo’s Montero.

It rained heavily all night long and there were lots of floods because nobody had predicted that huge amount of water, but the morning sun gifted us with a very nice view of the Andes mountain range covered by the first serious snow of the season. Good.



At the shop that afternoon, I was busy with other stuff though I had enough time to grind the superior plates of the springpacks to make them ready for the fixing plates. Of course, I forgot to drill the holes to fix the air springs to the plates, but I was not on the mood to take the pieces back to Victor’s so I drilled those four holes by hand. Oh, I hate to drill holes!

Next thing to do, grind the plates to allow the bolts for the air springs, clean it all and put a pair of welding stitches to fix the pieces waiting for the time to do a proper welding at the proper temperature; it was getting colder and colder. The incredible thing is that fabricating just those four pieces took me more than a week. At that pace I would finish in 2034, luckily. Something had to be done on that respect, and frankly I did not know what.




I was lost in those thoughts when another parcel arrived from Santiago with spareparts for the Merkabah. It was the repair kits for the front axle. Some of the repair kits, not all that I needed, but it was better than nothing. They were pretty expensive, these little things.





Saturday morning, again. The weeks flew faster than I could realize. Under almost freezing temperatures I worked on the engine of the Africa Twin. It had been more difficult than expected to reassemble the Japanese V2. Eduardo joined me after lunch and we worked until late in the evening. Stefan also passed by and gave a hand to put the cylinders and the cylinder heads back on.



Petra and Stefan joined us for dinner out pretty late that evening and we went to Los Andes, a town 15 minutes East of San Felipe. The german guys were just about to leave in their way to Mendoza, Argentina, but they needed to wait for the border to be opened after the snow storms. We stayed until they closed the restaurant, past midnight. It was a good dinner.



Sunday was a cold and lazy day. I did not even think in going to the shop, despite the poor progresses during the past weeks.

On Monday I managed to get out of work early to reach Petra and Stefan who were hurried to reach the border, even if they knew it was closed after the snow fallen during the weekend. I flew on the BMW and hugged them for the last time at the gas station on the limit of the city. They had already said goodbye to Carmen and to Eduardo at the workshop. The globetrotters were back on trail. It was really a pleasure to have them with us.



They made us know later on that they parked and slept right at the border fence and that they were almost the first to pass next morning to Argentina. They went even on the local TV news. The border closed again the same day.

I managed also to have lunch with Carmen, but I had lots of work to do so the afternoon was spent on bringing bread for my table, and also for keeping the project going on. No time for the Merkabah, or for the bike.

Only on Wednesday I could dress in working overall again and finish the bloody superior plates of the springpacks. It was pretty cold and I had to heat up the steel to make a good job, but my skills with the arc welding were back to zero again. Chaleco indulged me and said that I was too hard on myself, and that the welding was not bad at all. Hmm…




Do you remember Jago Pickering, the English guy with the 6x6 Tatra? Well, the engine had lots of details and the last spares had arrived just a week ago from the Czech Republic. They had previously refurbished the engine and assembled it with less pieces than described by the manuals. Yes. Anyway, after finishing with his running commitments Eduardo resumed the assembling of the huge V8 and rapidly the cylinder heads were ready to be mounted on the block. Jago showed up to see how things were going and to ask for the fourth extension of the permit of stay for the truck at customs in Los Andes.




After a brief and somewhat chaotic couple of journeys he said goodbye and left for the airport and then to England where he would reach his family. He would stay in motherland for three months and then back to Pucón, in southern Chile, to resume the building of his eco-house, now hidden under a meter of snow. I got permit from him to do the initial mileage of the Tatra after the overhauling. No… it is not true; he just glanced at me and smiled when asked. Worth to try.

Well, let’s see where we were the last time I wrote up on here. The progresses were pretty scarse, but the intentions were and still are the same.

Time… pretty much scarse as well. I could not work on the project for the rest of that week so I kept on dreaming on travelling on the Merkabah to the unknown and beyond, some day… some day.

The good thing about living in the country, or almost, is that the views are always spectacular, especially of the Andes mountain range in the evening winter sun. I share with you how it looked that Sunday afternoon, from a small almost-hidden road near San Felipe. Mountain views always rise up the moral when things show no progresses, at least for me.



The next week began wit renewed forces and I entertained myself doing some mockups of the superior supports for the suspension air springs. I wanted to finish that issue to put my hands on the axle as soon as possible.



After the cardboard modelling I got some ad hoc remains of steel from Spare, of course, and cut out the pieces for building seriously the supports. Unfortunately I ran out of time and had to stop right there. I could not do any more during the rest of the week because I had a lot of extra-regular work. Plop.





That weekend I had to do a brake and take some time to rest and to remember how it was to be living. Eduardo, his cousin Juanico (pronounce it as you can), some friends and I went to drink some tea and to look for chaguales (a plant similar to the aloe, very rich and good for salads) on the mountains near San Felipe. Juanico and the rest on the truck, me and Eduardo on the bikes.



It was cold, cloudy and windy, but the burning tea with cinnamon, the hard-boiled eggs and the sandwiches courtesy of Juanico made us come alive again once we got there, pretty high. It was a very good moment of camaraderie, a necessary one because I had been living like an automat, inmate in the daily work. The BMW suffered a little but got there with no major complaints. Evidently it was not the best bike for the ride but she kept the dignity until the end. We did not find any chagual; it was too early after the rains.

You must know at this stage that I cannot keep the feelings of uneasiness for too long, so the next day I took the WR450F and went to do some pretty serious enduro with a friend. It was a very good day for dirt-riding and soon after arrival many other riders came by do the same trail, more than twenty guys in the end.



We did a very nice and comprehensive trail, 60 km of all kind of terrains with many difficult paths. I got tired a little, obviously, but I did not fall, not once. I show you some pictures taken from the GoPro, just to share my joy. Seriously… I should have never quit riding! Ever!









Unfortunately the week that followed was like the former one, with no time for the Merkabah, but we had an interesting visitor.

Matthias, a young german engineer temporarily living in Santiago, brang his Vario 4x4 for Eduardo to check it and confirm some diagnosis other guys had given him before. The Vario belonged to other german guy, member of the forum, and Matthias imported and registered it to travel in Chile and South America with his little family. He was rebuilding the interior by himself but he was already using it without finishing yet.





The Vario stayed in the workshop a couple of days while checking it and then Matthias came and took it back to Santiago. Once the spare were at hand he would bring it again for the repairs, I think. Good guy, this Matthias.

As I was honestly cooked out with this issue of the engine of the Africa Twin, I got it and the few moments I had at the end of the week I devoted myself to its reassembling. I had the block closed and was closing the lateral covers, torqueing precisely and accurately even the tiniest bolt, when I realized that I had made a fatal mistake. Eduardo stared at me and broke to laughing: “How so moron, Pairoa!”. Actually the insult was worst than that, but he was right.



Everybody knows that I am not a mechanician nor something like that so there is not pain in saying that sometimes enthousiam and confidence overcome experience and methodicalness, and then you screw something up. Thanks to the Big Boss everything is a big game when you deal with steel, because you can always open up again, patch, replace, undent, bolt, weld or replace pieces and parts. You only waste time and materials, no one gets hurt or dies. So I laughed loud too.

The whole Saturday was then dedicated with great passion to disassemble the reassembled engine. Had to re-open the block that had been difficult to close the first time, and for what? For putting in the cap of the tube of the oil pump that I had left over. Ha.




While I drudged alone in the shop, a convoy of enthousiasts of the 4x4 made a stop just in front of the window on its way to some of the mountains up onto the Putaendo river. A 4x2 Vario towed some imponent abortion that was once a Land Cruiser and now, pretty fairly, was named The Frog. Interesting batrachian.



I went on with my work until the engine was even more complete than it was before the re-desassembling, working faster now as we were intimate.



As self-imposed many months before, Sunday was for resting and leisure, and I just got back to the engine next Monday in the afternoon, and I left it ready, the valves regulated under the inquisitive eye of Eduardo as I had forgotten the procedure, last time applied many, many months ago to the valves of the V8 of the Merkabah.



Wednesday, back to the engine, again. Tried to mount it on the frame by myself because everybody in the shop was busy. NFW. I waited and then Eduardo helped me and we put it on using the jack, patience and many labour because the bastard barely fitted in the frame.




From then on I went slowly connecting every component, fixing details, changing wires and worn connectors, burnt hoses, welding one and another crack here and there and repairing all the details that needed to be dealt with.



The thing went on with some little turning-backs from time to time and, finally, Saturday afternoon and after many hours of labour, the superb and re-born Africa Twin came out to make her first round-the-block test ride after a couple of months in the workshop.



Believe it or not, but the GS650, that can be seen looking over the shoulder in the background, became jealous… the worst way. Hmm…

After all that time I became used to ride the BMW, and the bulk and the kilos of the Japanese lady felt uncomfortably extrange. I decided that this was unacceptable, so the next day I put on all the gear and took the bike for the engine running following Eduardo’s indications on the RPM regimes. If it was to get used to her again, nothing better than doing a great mixed ride.

We went through the countryfields and climbed up to the mountains that overlook the valley of the Putaendo river and from there to the sea, riding the dreadful dirt roads in between the mountains. In the beginning I felt her a little heavy and slow, but after a few curves and rocks she went up on my skin and we became one, again. Oh, extraordinary feeling!




The day was spectacular and prone for such an escape, so everything went right. I came back by the asphalted long and winding road when the sun was dying. The engine worked pretty well, smooth, powerfull and crispy. Good. The journey ended up with a delicious dinner out and I went to bed, exhausted, with an indelible smile on my face.

Unfortunately, life went on and the regular work kept up, leaving only a couple of hours during the whole week to continue with the labour of building the supports for the air springs. I barely got to fill up the holes of the steel pieces one day and to grind them another afternoon.




To make it more difficult, guess what? The BMW stayed at the shop and occupied the place left by the Africa Twin just after its departure; I lost the key, the only copy. Yes. Don’t know how, but unexplainly the key went out of sight. We turned the shop upsidedown, everyone there, twice, and it did not show up. The BMW was jealous, and angry.



At the last moment, Friday afternoon, I reached to make some weld stitches and assemble the supports partially. At least it was something.



Do you remember that I mentioned that the property of my family in the mountains in the south was for sale? Well, they arrived to some kind of arrangement and it was not sold, at least for now. To celebrate we gathered and spent the weekend breathing some fresh air near the clouds and the sun, and enjoyed what was left of the last snowfall.



We took with us Amanda and Cachito and they enjoyed very much the new experience.

We went up high in the Montero instead of going by walking because of the time, and arrived just where the snow allowed us. The 4x4 is the best series-made machine ever made, but when it comes to snow there is no series-made 4x4 that counts. Many of the forum members surely think the same way.






It took us six hours to get back to San Felipe, instead of the usual two because it was the last of the winter holidays, and thus the highway was full, and I mean full of cars and trucks trying to make their way home, thousands of cars. Never seen that before. Never want to see and experience that again.

Anyway, the following week things were pretty different; I had finished the extra work that kept me terribly busy the previous month and a half, and I had no bike or dirt bike to repair. Good.

I went on with the fabrication of the supports, welding and grinding, welding and grinding. I really like doing that.

On Tuesday afternoon I took the half-made supports to Victor´s little shop where I drilled the holes for the top bolt and for the air intake of the air springs. The next day they were back at the workshop and they fitted perfectly. The only problem was that the flat disc twisted a little because of the heat of the welding and therefore it was no longer flat. Some skilled strikes and bumps after they were almost flat again. Good to have a big sledgehammer.




Then I drilled the holes for the bolts that would be shared with the support of the cabin. Once done, the lateral fixing of the supports was ready. The air spring looked pretty good and pretty solid when in place, but it was necessary to fix the support from the inner side, that meant from the horizontal wing of the main frame rail.




To do that, I looked for a very simple solution as I wanted no more complications. Just put a plate bolted to the support to press down against the rail with a little piece of rubber in between. I have seen something similar in Kurt’s truck and judged it very nice and reliable, at least for this application. So, after another couple of days of cutting, drilling, threading, welding and grinding the supports were ready, for good. They got stored in a box and I went on with the rest of the parts of the front axle.



One of those days there was an incident at the workshop. Do you remember the Ford Cargo that used to chat with the Merkabah? Well, it came for a turbo replacement, something pretty straight and easy to do for Eduardo and his team, but something happened with the electronics of the engine and after a few minutes of ralenti it accelerated at maximum RPM no matter the efforts of Eduardo to stop it, risking his own life in the maneuvers. The engine exploded in his face and one of the piston rods ended up on the floor. Eduardo’s hands and face were protected by the computer panel, if not he would have suffered serious injuries by the burst and the flames. He got no congratulations from anybody for his crazy efforts to save the piece of metal.





Fortunately, and thanks to the Big Boss, nobody was injured but the poor truck found its fate terribly and unexpectedly. Shit happens. What happened? Eduardo would tell after the investigation.

Well, when the Ford died I was working on the right drive shaft, trying to take all the dirt off of it, with scarse success. Those things had scarsely been serviced, never cared of; one of the schmiernipples (I love that name) was even lacking.

pairospam hat geschrieben:It took us six hours to get back to San Felipe, instead of the usual two because it was the last of the winter holidays, and thus the highway was full, and I mean full of cars and trucks trying to make their way home, thousands of cars. Never seen that before. Never want to see and experience that again.

In that case, you better not come to Europe. We have that every day ...

Pirx

I know, I know it very well, Pirx; I have lived three years in Italy.

That's why initially I was going to rent a bike , but the perspective of dealing with the beginning of the rainy season made me think it twice.

The problem is that I have never seen that kind of mess before in my country. Maybe it happens all the time and it is just me that go out in particular moments and not when everyone is in holydays.

Anyway, like the "embouteillages" or not, there I go september 11th.

Cheers.


Pairoa

Hello Pairoa!

Somewhat off-topic, but I would like to come back to your planned trip:

pairospam hat geschrieben:Guys:

Excuse me for the off-topic question but who better than you to answer this: I am planning a short trip to Europe in September, last two weeks and the first of october, ...

pairospam hat geschrieben:Okay. So it is indeed a good time to go, even if I don't reach Oktoberfest.

You might not reach Oktoberfest in Munich, but you could have the chance to visit the exactly-the-same-but-much-better Cannstatter Volksfest in Stuttgart (26.09.-12.10.).

http://cannstatter-volksfest.de/en/landing-page/

Lots of people, kinds of food you won't be able to walk any more after eating it all, and beer only in 1 litre glasses ...

Pirx

Hmm... sounds and look great! I am going to Stuttgart for sure.

Don't know if I am able to take one of those beers glasses by myself, though.

Cheers.


Pairoa

Hi:

Time for updates.

After getting rid of one kilo of hardened grease and dust I cleaned the left side shaft, enough to let the rost-off spray reach the corners and angles. Once both homocinetics were clean I left them soaking in rost-off and loaded them on Eduardo´s truck to take them to the press the next day.




Next to do… clean the steering knuckles. They were also pretty dirty, as you know, so I began with the normal putty knife work and brushing and carried on until it was time to go.




At home, that weekend, everybody was unaware and/or did not care about my enthousiasm because I was making some progresses. Sydane just gave me a lazy gaze and told me “You are really crazy, Pairoa”.



Thanks to the enduro riding and the chiselling I developed a painful epicondylitis so I decided not to work nor to go riding, at least for a while. Took with me the toolbox and profited to do minor but necessary (and long delayed) jobs at home. Carmen was happy.

Next Monday, with less pain, I continued with the gasoline bathing and brushing of both the steering nuckles. I smelled of gasoline for two days, but the result was worth of it. It was necessary to sand the races because they were not very healthy and I did not like the idea of having more oil leaks around. Hopefully it would be enough. The conical bearings were okay.




As already seen, there had been some work there in the past and the seals had been replaced on the right side for alternative ones, along with the universal joints. Maybe it was the reason why the whole thing was soaked in oil. The left side parts were all the original ones.



The manual talked about an extractor to remove the inner rings and seals of the knuckles, but as I had no extractor nor will to buy one I used a little barr of steel and out with the pieces with just a little hammering. In the end of the afternoon both knuckles were clean and ready for the next steps: sanding/grinding and painting. They should wait until I had more parts in the same situation, though.

At Victor’s little workshop, a couple of days later, working with the shafts was not an easy task. To maneuver the shafts in the press for loosing the universal joints was quiet demanding, especialy when doing it alone.

When I had one of the joints already loose, Victor showed up and gave me a hand. He used to work for a company that built agro-machines and had a lot of experience with cardanic joints, a little rusted but experience in the end. The joint fought bravely but we finally took it out. We had to grind the edge of one of the bearing caps to do it. It was quiet difficult and there was even a little denting of the yoke after the struggle, nothing extraordinary according to Victor. I hoped he was right.






When I said that there was no more bike to fix it was not totally true, as I needed to replace the thermostat and the clutch cable of the Africa Twin, and I was just waiting for them to arrive. Well, they did, finally, and there was no more excuse. Running against the clock, I took the fuel tank out and removed half the bike to reach the thermostat cap and replaced it for the new one. Alejandro, the big argentinien, laughed at me because I said that I wanted not to disassemble the bike at least in one year. Hmm…




I replaced also the clutch cable and reassembled and adjusted everything a couple of minutes before it was time to go to work. Riding with a smooth clutch was a delight; the difference between before and after was more than noticeable and the Honda went a little higher in the scale of joy.



With the sample of the universal joints I took the Africa Twin and we both rode/flew to Santiago Friday afternoon, to look for the spareparts. I visited the eight most reknowned stores in downtown Santiago, THE places; no one had the pretty rare 38 mm offset joints. The last of the sellers, a grown up pity-looking man, seeing my hopeless face gave me an address, some fifteen blocks away, where there was a chance for me to find the joints.

At the place, a tiny but well fitted store specialized in cardanic joints, the guy looked at the piece twice and made a phone call. It ended with “thanks anyway”, so I knew in advance that it was not my lucky day. But the seller offered me to ask for a quote to fabricate the joints using 38 mm Koyo joints as the basis, with hardening process included. I agreed and left the joint and my number not pretty much convinced, but at least there was a hope.

I got the Honda and sunk in the rush-hour traffic of Santiago, spending the next 45 minutes dodging buses and cars until I had to stop by a Starbuck’s and rest for a while. The damn traffic stresses me more than any impassable obstacle on any mountain.

When I settled myself down I rode on again and met René and Karen Larraguibel at the clinic where René’s father was recovering after a delicate surgery. They made a pause and came home from Bolivia, in the middle of their overlanding traversée, to see the old man. At his 82, his recovery was going extraordinarily fast. It was a brief but nice meeting, and they told me about their adventures in Bolivia and Perú so far.



They would resume their trip as soon as possible. I went back home with empty hands but happy for the opportunity to see them again.

Saturday. Time to go on. Before I left for the shop the guy from the store in Santiago called. Yes, of course the offset joints could be fabricated, for € 350 each. I thanked him for his kindness and forgot about the issue. It was a little more than the price of the new ones in Germany. I had to make a decision, with not so many options.

I then spent the whole afternoon at the shop working on the front axle. Had to make some tricky movements in between the cars to be able to bring the mobile winch on to lift the axle and put it on the stands. They were not my ad hoc self made stands because Eduardo took them for other purposes long time ago, and they were a little low, but it was better than working on the floor.

I started with the cleaning with gasoline and the putty knife because it was all covered with oil and grease. When I was cleaning the steering knuckle top a hidden bearing thrust washer showed up. The one on the right side never appeared. Maybe it had been not replaced, just taken out.



When all the dirt, the grease and the oil were off, the seals of the drive shaft on the bearing axle housing side were exposed, and those of the right side were neither the original ones.




The differential lock nut was blocked by a blind nut. I feared that the mechanism was screwed up, but I would wait to have it clean before investigating and finding out.



After finishing with the axle I grabbed the brake drum that was soaked in oil and began to clean it up as well. It was quiet a nasty job, but someone had to do it, and there had been worst.




When I was done, I looked for other parts that could be cleaned with the gasoline that remained in the tray so I picked up the brackets for the exhaust muffler, just to recycle, but they were covered by a hard and thick layer of soot that kept me chiselling until I considered it was enough for a Saturday.



Jinx, the cat, was ill; the poor guy had gastroenteritis and felt not so good in the evening. Sunday morning he looked pretty bad and was dehydrated so we took him to the veterinarian. He was hospitalized and given an intravenous. He would spend the whole day and the night there and hopefully would be better after receiving appropriate treatment. We would see.



After lunch we went to the countryside with the dogs. Eduardo was about to plant a piece of ground with peach-trees. The terrain had been plowed and soon they will start to plant. The dogs had a lot of fun running back and forth on the soft ground; the Montero was happy too playing around. Carmen shook her head and told me I was still a child. She was right.

Hi,
over and over again a pleasure to see what you are doing to the old Truck.
On the one side I believe you are completely insane,
on the other side I respect your innitiative and love to see what you are doing there.
I am looking forwad to the first time you are driving this thing again!

By the way, the axle appears kind of small and handy on he picture, even though it is probably a massive heavy peace of steel...

I wish you maximum progress
and best Regards
Jakob

Hi Jakob:

Well... actually I sometimes feel like Asterix when the romans say: ce sont fous ces gaulois! and, indeed, the axle is such a big piece of steel.

Thanks for your wishes, and always nice to have some feedback.

Monday… again. I had been trying to peel off the axle with the metallic brushes and some sand paper for at least one hour but the results and the timing were pretty discouraging. I made a pause to drink a cup of tea with honey and suddenly remembered something important. Rushed to the office and looked among the pile of boxes carefully and orderly arranged in my personal cabinet. Pretty soon I found the very expensive tool that I had bought many months ago and was absolutely neglected until that very moment.



The fierce-looking cup brush was the perfect solution, and the idiot left it locked in the cabinet! It worked much better than the usual brushes and cleaned very well the axle from the rust and the ancient paint and primer, with less effort. Hmm...




Later on, everybody left the shop but I stayed, powerbrushing the more exposed and easy aspects of the axle, leaving the tricky spots to the grit blasting. Evidently I could not finish, but at least I found the right way to proceed. Only Dakar and the other guardian dog kept me company, until the time to pick up Jinks came.



The cat was better, but not fully recovered. When we reached home he was given a warm welcome from his colleagues, cats and dogs; he ate slowly a tiny amount of a special and medicated pâté de fois and fell profoundly asleep on a chair, showing the shaved arm where the intravenous was. The brave lion had been beaten, but was not dead. Good.



The time available to work on the Merkabah, always less than desired, was dedicated then to the cleaning of the parts of the axle and the axle itself too. The new brushes were splendid when new, but after a few sessions it became difficult to make them work properly because the filaments bent under the pressure loosing most of their effectiveness. Anyway, I managed to clean properly, or what I thought it was properly, the reachable surfaces of the axle.





It looked better and better but the effort to take all the dust and the rust out was starting to make me feel uncomfortable and bored. As usual, I stopped and changed subject and grabbed the steering knucles to use the powerdrill for a change. After a couple of hours they were as ready as they could be according to my judgement at that time and place. Obviously, I was wrong. When I finished to clean the second piece I found that the first one was not as clean so I picked it up again and spent another hour making the job done for good.




Once both steering knuckles were finally ready they went into clean boxes where they would rest until the priming session.

Next to do, yes… keep on cleaning and brushing. The steering arms were waiting for their turn. They looked miserable, dry and rusted or sticky greased. One of them had the bushing pretty worn on one side, but it looked like it was not too badly deformed and that the new bushing would fit tight. I hoped.





I washed the pieces with gasoline and then took out the seals and the broken bushings, but I had to go to work so the parts were left incomplete.

There was a holyday Friday, for a reason I don’t remember pretty well, but we planned to go to the mountains with Eduardo and the whole crew profiting of the long weekend. I borrowed a trailer that I wanted to use to carry the dirtbike and Eduardo’s XT 400 as there are a few trails to the top of the mountains that are great to ride, but unfortunately the house was already taken by a cousin so the plans dramatically changed and we stayed in San Felipe.

The trailer was so simple and robust that I decided to copy it and build one myself. I measured everything and asked for a quote for the steel and the crucial parts and it turned to be a good and not so expensive idea. Maestro Chaleco, the welder, would do the rest.



Probably the mountain trails in the south promised more fun, especially riding in pair, but the mountains near San Felipe and their no-trails were funny too, even if riding alone.



Eduardo did not waste his time neither and he planted the plowed terrain with a lot of tiny peach trees. We passed by to make a short visual inspection on our way to a seashore promenade with all the dogs, again. Oh, I really love Deva’s allure!




Well, back to the reality of the working week, I continued with the cleaning of the steering arms. I had to use many types of brushes to do an almost-right job. I wondered if it was better to finish it with the grit-blasting. Was it worth? Of course!



When I finished with the steering arms, many hours later, I switched back to the axle and spent some time with the power tools to make it shine a little more. I did not want to leave any trace of old paint and rust, and of course it was not an easy task. There were still traces of oil and it would be necessary to clean it up again with solvents, but I was not on the mood and it was already late.



That afternoon, after three unsuccessful tries, Jago’s Tatra finally arrived next to the shop. It had been necessary to shift every time to a bigger truck to tow it out from its almost eternal resting place in the country. After a while the police came and blocked the traffic to allow the guys of the towing company to shed it. It took only a few moments thanks to the expertise and the skills of them both. As usual, the by-passers stared at the amazing truck and the buggy hung in the back with jaws wide open.

I went to bring the trailer back to its owner to a little town near San Felipe called Catemu (don’t mind, sounds strange to me too) and I saw this Renault Saviem 4x4 by the road. It looked pretty well, but it had no plates so I assumed that it was out of duty. It was such a rare finding; they are pretty much scarce here. There was nobody at home to ask for more details so I left it resting there. Maybe it would be lucky enough to find some crazy dude who wanted to take it back to life as an expedition truck. Maybe.




The day after, I washed the axle with solvents and as soon as it dryed up I applied the brushes everywhere to complete the cleaning. The tricky spots would be covered by the grit blasting, but I tried to take paint and rust out as much as possible.




You can see the scars of the ancient bruises and hits on the inferior surface of the differential case. So many years doing all the dirty jobs for the building company.



I got a new gazebo and new and a wider polyethylene sleeve to make the blasting chamber up again. I wanted this time to make it tighter and not to let any particle of dust come out. Alejandro, the superfed argentinien, helped me to move the axle to put it in the center of the chamber because the moving crane was occupied. It was a very big load, and my back, despite all precautions and perfect postures, resented it.

I left the chamber assembled and ready and went to work that Friday afternoon, but I felt uneasy, and it proved to be a very neat and justified feeling.



The plan was to blast the axle the next day, but it rained heavily during the whole night. I do not like to blast or to paint when it rains or when humidity is high so the morning passed and also my wills to work on the truck that day. After lunch Eduardo, his wife, Carmen and I agreed and went out for a ride. Eduardo would inherit the BMW 650GS and it was time for him and for Ivonne to get used to her.

It was a good ride, including some kilometers of wet dirt roads. The Africa Twin performed brilliantly, as usual, but we had to wait patiently for Eduardo and Ivonne, with no experience at all in muddy roads.




Sunday morning. I woke up early and watched the sky: no clouds. I performed the regular weekend tasks (including dog shit picking up and disposal) and went to the workshop to blast the bloody axle for good. On arrival I found that the guardian dogs had played with the plastic sleeves and ripped it off, almost breaking the plastic joints of the fragile chinese gazebo. My uneasiness was justified. I felt very angry at first, but it was absolutely not their fault, it was all mine of course.



I spent one hour or more repairing the chamber and when I judged it was okay I put on the fumigating suit and the mask. I would wear simple safety goggles this time as the mask I used to blast before was out of order; the blasting back of the the grit grinded the visor and you could see nothing through it.

I put some tape to cover the gaps between the edges of the mask and the goggles and it worked well enough to protect the skin and the eyes. It was no problem to replace every time the € 1 goggles instead of ruining another € 150 mask. Hmm…

At six o’clock in the afternoon I finished the job. The axle was now ready to prime, free from (the most) rust and garbage. The steering arms were also blasted where they needed to complete the job. I worked pretty much faster thanks to a new and simpler method of collecting the grit from the floor and because it all was confined inside the chamber; details that make things easier and that were completely and stupidly overlooked. Also the blasting gun worked better and jammed quiet rarely. Good.






I folded up the sleeves to prevent Dakar and Sparkplug to play with them again, took some pictures and went home for a pretty late but delicious lunch.



Monday, again. Eduardo and the guys at the shop struggled to mount Jago’s engine on the Tatra in a very confined space. They succeeded, of course, but it was not that easy.




While they were busy with the big guy I sprayed the axle and the steering knuckles with washprimer. I gave them three hands and, as I still had some primer left in the gun, I sprayed also the steering arms. I wanted to prime everything I could before my departure to avoid the already brushed pieces to rust during my time out.







I went to Verardo’s machine shop and he gave me the new turned pins for the springs I had ordered one week before. Great work, and they included even the schmiernipples.

Hi Pairoa!

You do a great job!! Also how you document the restoration, thats brilliant as well. Reminds me somehow on 2009, when we have restored our Amigo.... But we didn´t had to do such a big job, you have to do. Looking forward to see your first ride with your 2626!! All the best and take care of you fingers !!

Regards
Wolfi