Foreword:
This series of pages chronicles the re-build of my poor car after a six year absence where it was stored at “a friends’ house” in Panama. Before this I had returned annually and kept up on maintenance. When I returned, I found the owner had moved but left the car, the new tenant didn’t even have the keys, and in spite of paying monthly for storage, I learned of this only two weeks prior to my flight.
I don’t really know where to start here. Today was spent, from as early as possible, bringing the Malibu back to life. I had a short opportunity a few days ago for a view of current conditions, and was frankly apalled. It’s only upon up close inspection that you can tell how something has been treated over the years, or in this case, neglected. Granted, it has been six years, and for a while there it probably appeared as though I had abandoned the vehicle, but I only had to remind myself that at no point in time was I ever unreachable during that time to answer that question.
Without a doubt, it’s because I had put so much work into this vehicle that I’m so disgusted right now, and I know I wasn’t paying a lot for storage, but I did think that I had left it in good hands, with a person that cared for old classics as did I, and that it would have been treated a little better than it was. There were rotting oranges under the hood. Just how does that happen?
Keith, the person with whom I originally stored the car with, had moved from that property, abandoned the vehicle there around three years ago, and never informed me of this until just before I came down. For all that time, he had been been passing on the cash to this guy Scott, the new tenant at the property, who kept the place a mess. Go ahead, ask me how happy I am about THAT arrangement.
It remains to be seen if the damage due to the humidity down here is repairable or not, which brings into question the viability of a future restoration once returned to Canada, but I guess that is a story for another day.
I’m told that, as before, this car has had plenty of interest from the locals who love the old muscle from way back. It’s not as though I couldn’t sell it here should that be my decision.
Enough of the sentiment. Here is the current situation.
First we had to empty everything out. Basically taking an inventory of all things. There’s no picture of that, because I’d already dived into it before I remembered I was going to take pictures. The back seat was stuffed with a bunch of things that weren’t mine, including a cloth car tarp that provided housing for the critter that had shit all over everything. Without the crap stuffed in the back, there may never have been a critter, but it’s done now.
This is about what you’d expect… until you look closer.
That’s when you start to notice things like all the crud collected in the valleys of the intake.
… and there is the limes, or oranges, or what whatever … maybe a critter carried it up there?
Loads of pine needles in every nook and cranny. It’s very windy up here during the dry season, but it’s obvious to me it was parked under one of the pines up here for a while.
Does that choke still work?
Critter poop, not so bad up front,
but in the back you begin to get the idea. That is actually a red seat, but because the tarp was pressed up against it, it got discolored. I don’t know what that is. Whether it’s mold of some sort, or just plain discoloration, I don’t know, but we didn’t get to it that day.
Time to rip and tear.
First thing, before any of these pics, I got it running. I mean, I had to know, do I even bother? At the pension, they gave me a big plastic detergent bottle that held about 5 buks worth of gas. A few cap fulls in the carb, and it fired. Yess!! Ok, I bother…
Another few cap fulls, and it fired and ran with a light foot on the pedal, and I heard the noise from the water pump. The bearing was shot. I’ve heard a lot of noises before, but I’ve never heard a bearing scream like that, 
so I knew I couldn’t run it for long, and so much for rolling it down the hill “as is” and doing the repair in town.
I got my can of carb cleaner, started it again, and sprayed the carb down the best I could before shutting it down, and by that time the water pump was starting to throw coolant off of the pulley wheel. Not good. Then I washed the engine down the best I could for the “before” shot.
Always better to work on a clean engine.
That hose, with the clamp removed, is usually the biggest beyach. Prone to tears, I do not have a spare. Uber caution here.
Power steering aside, alternator out of the way, fan removed, hoses disconnected…
Wrench, wrench… Note the pot bases for parts holders. Thanks Cass.
And removal.
I specifically remember painting this on night shift at Shell in ’03. Not so shiny now. Getting that outlet off will be tense.
Install is just a grind. The LAST bolt, on the alternator, which provides tension to the belt driving the water pump and alternator, stripped. %*)%#$$@
I had just about given up on it for the day, as it will need a through bolt and nut to cure that problem, and I didn’t have a suitable one anywhere, when I got real old school. Bailing wire. If you look closely at the alternator bracket, that is doubled up aviator wire twisted, and holding fast. That would probably last all the way home, but I’ll still be fixing it properly.
Rad filled, ready to go. I spent about an hour on sandpaper alone, getting as much rust as possible out of the grooves of the pulleys. If left as is, it chews through belts like no tomorrow.
That’s a nice shiny pump (what the whole engine used to look like).
The blue tarp in the background is the one that was stuffed into the back seat. It’s running now, I’m waiting for it to burp, and trying to stand up straight…
After, it took another long shot of water to fill it right up. Warmed all the way up, she smoked for a bit (valve guides), and then stopped. Typical…
Time for a chew, so we took it up the hill a bit to put some air in the tires. She’s running rough, stalling, low on power. What you you expect? It’s high here, about 1200 meters above sea level, and this car never did like altitudes much. Even changing the needles and jets won’t cure a carb that’s too big for the altitude. With all that going against, she still squealed a tire coming out of the gas station. I don’t know how that happened. LOL
I’m not going to fill it up until I burn some more of this 6 year old gas off, and by then I may need to change the gas filter as well, but I’ve got a spare sitting, waiting for that.
The money shot…
Otherwise happy, but very tired, we left it up the hill. Still lots to do yet, but we’ll go back in the morning and bring it down in the daylight. Then I can get it parked, and work on it locally at my leisure, at which point the story will continue.