Because all did not go as planned…

While everything regarding the trailer itself remained trustworthy and whole (save for a temporary … inflection), the truck I built in ’98 to pull it around had a mind of it’s own.

When I say “truck I built” it’s because the wimpy little 305 it came with was replaced with a 350 4 bbl I rebuilt out of a ’78 Camaro. The parts were sent in for tanking and honing, but I yanked it, tore it down, did the bolt up, and all the little tweaks to tune it in. I then got (warning, gearhead talk) an Edelbrock 650, RV cam, Headman headers, dual exhaust, MSD ignition, three core rad, and tranny cooler. For travel, I put 90 L tanks on either side. I had done my research, I built it for hauling, and it ran like a raped ape for the most part.

Ol’ Blue pulled the trailer around Alberta while I was working down in Jofree, and also tugged it all the way to Sturgis, South Dakota, with the bike in the box, in 2004. That’s another 800 pounds up and through the Rockies, and on to Sturgis, in the July heat. Then back again.

Yes, I had a few difficulties. I had it in 2nd up many of the hills as newer vehicles with lighter trailers went flying past, and I installed a lock-up bypass switch on the torque converter on the way home to stop the transmission from downshifting all the time.

Yet, it did not overheat once, but that is what happened on the day we tried to leave for our friends acreage. It was about 30 C, and we didn’t make it 5 km from the house before it started sputtering and losing power.

That is also when I discovered that turning on the hazard signals engaged the trailer brakes! Yes, while still rolling and trying to get out of traffic, the trailer brakes were locking up in time with the flashers, and I ended up kissing the dash a few times while I figured it out. In truth, this only went on for about 15 seconds as I came to a complete stop, but say what you will, it’s still deserving of a rant.

Without getting into excruciating detail, a passer by went completely out of their way, brought us not only gas but a length of header wrap (long strip of insulation), and got us going. Sadly, I didn’t get his number to thank him later, but life is a strange thing. Maybe I’ll meet him again someday, or maybe I’ll find a way to pay it forward to someone else.

From there, we came straight home, had a chat about what to do, and decided to carry on. Damn the torpedoes!!! Cass spotted a leak in a fuel line, which was loose, cracked, and quickly replaced as a definite part of the problem. I, frankly, can’t believe I missed something so… basic. No excuse.

Then we wrapped the headers with the tape – her up top and me underneath. It might not look like much, but those pipes sit right beside the steel gas lines from my tanks which sit in the frame rail of the truck.

And the difference in heat felt once the job was done, even obviously incomplete, was remarkable.

The black rail (bottom left) in the picture above is the frame rail, and the gas lines from both tanks are just inches away. THAT might go a long way towards explaining the vapour-lock.

Gas is boiling in the line, expanding, the purging the line back through the tank pickup, and there is no solution to this other than time and a shot of gas straight into the carb to rev the engine fast enough to suck new gas from the tank up into the carb once again, and BTW, that’s a long time to sit eating humble pie. This is why gas pumps are now either in, or near, the gas tank, to push fuel instead of pull it, as you simply cannot pull vapour.

With the wrapping out of the way, I was itching to test it for proof. We decided to hook up to the trailer, take a long route out of town, and if all went well, we would carry on towards our destination, but… while all this was going on, it had begun to rain, and quite a bit at that.

By the time we found our way onto the the Henday, there was standing water on the road wherever you went. The truck was running fine, but the weather was horrendous – typical of this year. It never seems to just rain anymore, it only storms, buckets, or floods, and when Cass looked at the storm on radar, we were clearly running with it instead of driving through it, so back home we went.

At which point it began to clear off, as you can plainly see above.

The next morning had us up early, and we were on the road by 7:30 a.m. smoothly going for a little over a half hour when, at highway speed, she started to sputter again. My heart fell, as now we were far enough away from home for this to be a real problem, but in a half-hearted try at anything, I switched tanks…. and the problem went away.

There was some swearing, to be sure, as I wondered just how many other little line items were still waiting to pop up on the till tape to deal with, but I concluded at that point that the fuel pickup in the tank had some debris on it, and was starving for fuel. A few clicks later I switched back again and no problem, and that is how we made our way out to the acreage. Switching back and forth between tanks until we were there.

It rained and rained and rained some more, but we managed as Canadians do.

A tarp here, a stick or two there, and we were warm and dry, for the most part. That, however, could not be said for the ground, which was completely saturated. My buddy had to tow us out with his 4 x 4, and he almost didn’t make it, but his front wheels crept onto the pavement and that saved the day.

We made it to a place called Harry Hill, (aptly named) where the overheating issue found us again and forced us off the road into their small village. I had been watching a rising heat gauge for some time, and was aware I was down a little radiator fluid, but hadn’t been overly worried as it had stayed still, until…

Pulled off to the side in their little town, I just popped the hood, and waited for it to cool enough to open the radiator cap without a boiling fountain. We went for a walk, read the town signs, (Hairy Hill got it’s name from buffalo that rubbed their winter coat off on the trees here) and shot the shit with the locals who rolled by to ask what our game was.

When I got the cap off, the rad was indeed quite low, and I added what I had, started it, and then added some more, burping it the best I could. it was then running well, the heat was back to where it where it was supposed to be, and so thinking the issue behind us, off we went again.

We made it 2/3 up Harry Hill on the way out and she died again. Stuck in the middle of the road, I let it roll back some to try to get us to the side of the road, but without power steering, I quit before I put it into the ditch. Then the swearing started. I had really had quite enough.

In writing this, I have had some time to think things through, but at the time, I was certainly at my wits end. It took a few minutes, but the call was made, and another slice of humble pie was served. My friend came to help me out to tow the trailer back to the city, and we drove the truck.. which ran fine all the way.

We got it back to the city, where it sat on the front street for a full day until I even looked at parking it. Now, I’m stuck between thinking “I had it solved, but just hadn’t worked a bubble through the line”, to “there is an unknown issue which only presents itself under the worst circumstances”.

** Edit – later found that a mostly empty tank can run the pickup dry on a “Harry” hill. 90 L tanks are long and these were without baffles inside, which server to retain some gas around the pickup when on a hill. **