Hey Guys,
Heh, heh, heh... That subject line was just a clever ruse to be sure I
have your undivided attention...
So, you remember the ancient Chinese curse? "May you live in interesting
times!"
Well, I think it could quite easily be amended to: "May you live in
interesting times and drive a Tiger!"
Things here in the wilds of New Mexico have been going pretty good,
mayhap too darn good... I may have made the Gods jealous.
We had Janet's birthday party a day early, a week ago today, and lots
of good people showed up, lots of good food got eaten, a few LBC's
showed up, and one Tiger, driven by our own lively Lister Dan Eiland,
was here, too. My daughter (Dana) and son-in-law (Brian) came in from
Austin, Texas and spent the week, giving me the perfect opportunity to
afford them both some left-seat time in the 'Beamish Boy as they will be
driving the little gem north to Santa Fe (300 miles) in September to
participate in the Jaguar-sponsored Roadrunner 1000, billed as the only
event with "1000" in the name that does not cost in multiples of 1000
bucks to participate in.
The plan for September calls for Janet and me to drive Tigger the Tiger
on the trip whilst the youngsters drive the Alpine, an arrangement Dana
and Brian are happy with as they are much enamored with 'Beamish,
as well they might be as that is one sweet little car.
So, anyway...
After Dana and Brian departed for Austin yesterday morning I went back
to bed, arising a few hours later much refreshed and revitalized.
Despite the afternoon temp's nuzzling 100 degrees again, I took my new
Tiger throttle cable from Sunbeam Specialties down to the garage and
installed it, no problemo. (I was so proud!)
I turned the key to test the throttle cable and Tigger started up
easily, and ran strong so I got all enthusiastic and decided to head
down to the Sonic Drive-in for the hot rod cruise-in, then run on down
to Scoopy's for the fortnightly Ice Cream Social and Bench Race.
The ambient air temp was down to the low 90's by the time Janet and I
hopped into Tigger and headed out at a little after 7 PM. At speed on US
70 everything was feeling fine... The wind tousling my flowing locks
despite my snappy blue cap... The waves of heat coming up from the
floorboards slow-cooking my right drumstick... Ah! The life of a fast
movin', slow cookin' Tigerist in sunny New Mexico!
So, anyway...
After stopping for the last red light before entering the city (I just
can't get with the new fad of running the darned things!), I accelerated
away rather briskly, teaching manners to a ten year old Cougar. Boy,
that new throttle cable is slick!
I slowed for the left turn onto Roadrunner Boulevard using, naturally
enough, the brake pedal in the process... (Oh! How little I knew!)
Going down the big hill on Roadrunner something did not feel quite
right. Going back up the other side of the hill, something briefly felt
very wrong... Like it was taking way too much of that new throttle cable
to get up the hill, know what I mean? And the engine temp jumped up 20
degrees. Then, for maybe four miles, everything felt alright, engine
temp dropped back below 100 C.
"You know," I said to Janet, "that was weird. Almost like I was dragging
a brake, except the car stayed straight... Besides, if I was dragging a
brake, I shoulda been able to smell it... And everything feels OK now."
Four miles later, as I approached the Hilton Hotel parking lot where a
bunch of friends awaited to cruise over to the Sonic, Tigger started
slowing of his own free will. As more and more throttle produced less
and less result I turned into the lot and headed for the nearest parking
space. (Hey, I hadda get out of traffic.)
I was sorta half way into the parking slot next to Charlie Beard's green
MGB when all forward motion ceased and Charlie shouted, "Your front
wheel is on fire!"
As Janet bailed out and ran for cover I urged her to save me a seat on
the lifeboat. Then I grabbed the fire extinguisher (conveniently rolling
around the floor on the passenger side) and jumped out to head around to
the right front wheel. I could see no flames but, feeling some concern
about the overabundance of oxygen found in Tigger's vicinity, I broke
the seal and emptied the extinguisher on, in, through, over, and around
the slotted wheel. Needless to say, a cloud of fine white powder settled
slowly over everything, most especially Tigger's sleek black flanks and
Charlie Beard's beautifully gleaming green MGB...
I popped the hood and, thankfully, there was no evidence of fire in
there, either.
Meantime, all my friends except Charlie Beard were busily (and
understandably) moving their tin as far away as possible. The Mercedes
SLK headed out the fastest, thus justifying that Kompressor. Many
drivers shouted encouragement as they left. Charlie, however, stayed the
course, hanging in to help and offering his reserves of bottled water
which I dumped on the front wheels, which may have been a mistake, I
guess. David Cox stayed pretty close, too, and offered help which was
much appreciated. Some others came back to spectate after removing their
cars a couple of hundred yards...
About then, that ol' rabble agitator W. Kowalski, showed up and, from
the look in his eye, I am sure he thought this was all some dodge to
avoid racing his Giant Killer MGB but he pitched in to help anyway. He
had missed the high drama but offered to tow me home (15 miles). I
settled, instead, for the use of his tool kit. (Don't ask why I am still
not carrying tools in Tigger!) Between me and Walt, we managed to pull
the vacuum line off the brake booster, at which point the brakes became
sort of semi-operational again.
Walt sacrificed his brand new needle nose pliers, the handle of which
fit quite nicely in the now unused vacuum hose, thus plugging it. I let
the car cool for a bit, then fired up (ooops! make that "started up")
and drove around the Hilton parking lot to evaluate the brake system
sans booster as I was not sure it would work at all. It worked but
suffice it to say that stopping took lots of planning.... At least three
pumps on the pedal to do much at all... The situation improved when
using the hand brake in conjunction with the foot brake. I now
understand why Tigers have the hand brake on the left... It is to allow
you to brake with your left hand whilst downshifting with your right
hand whilst gripping the steering wheel in your teeth.
In the final analysis I judged it dangerous but not suicidal to drive.
How often do you really NEED your brakes, anyway?
I sent Janet to the nearby Sonic on foot, then I fired up (ooops!) and
drove over... One way to get the old adrenaline flowing! Would you
believe that as I pulled into Sonic some of my erstwhile goombahs
shouted ribald comments about my having "three blackwalls and one really
ratty looking whitewall" on the car?
We sat around the Sonic another half-hour then headed out for home,
Kowalski volunteering to drive clean-up behind me, just in case, before
he continued on to the Scoop-o-rama.
Janet and I made the trip at about 45 MPH, admiring that lovely star-studded New
Mexico sky all the way home. By the time we got to the garage the
boosterless brakes were considerably better, requiring just a tug on the
hand brake and a single pump of the foot brake to coast to a gentle,
graceful, gradual stop.
Inside the garage, I told Janet that I felt I had learned to cope with
the lack of fanciful fripperies from the mid-sixties and suggested she
climb back in so we could head back to Scoopy's for that chocolate
malted. Perhaps I should not have said nothin' as she then rhapsodized
in words I have not heard lately, words I did not even know she knew,
words I did not even know I knew...
So, anyway...
I think it is significant that throughout this adventure:
1) Tigger's engine never overheated enough to spew coolant! Imagine all
the extra effort that little 260 had to put out to haul those locked
brakes!
2) The brakes never squeeked, squealed, stunk, or smoked, right up to
the fire. All of the brakes were hot enough to fry an egg, no problemo,
and the fronts would have burned you to the bone had you been dumb
enough to grab ahold.
3) The master cylinder was, and is, full.
I will, of course, pull the right front wheel and inspect everything. It
must have been wheel bearing grease burning, but I will find out for
sure. I will inspect the wheel to be sure that the water did not warp or
crack it. I hope I did not lunch the brakes themselves but don't think I
did because of the lack of weird sounds when the brakes are applied.
My assumption is that the brake booster is shot. I would not entrust
such a vital system to a clown, so I will not attempt to rebuild it
myself. I do not want a "modern" unit unless I am forced to it. Does
anyone know of a source for guaranteed rebuilt units? Failing that, how
about a source where I can send my booster for a guaranteed rebuild?
(Yes I know similar questions have been raised on the List lately but I
am damned if I can find them. Won't it be nice when LaifMan has his/our
new Tiger site up and all this kind of stuff will be archived in easy to
use sections?)
Can anybody propose a good reason I can offer up to Janet as to why I
still did not have a toolkit in the car?
Finally, can anybody propose a good reason I can offer up to LaifMan as
to why I am not carrying an emergency bypass kit for the booster,
ostensibly available from CAT, whereof I am a member? Had I had one of
those gems I really could have continued on to Scoopy's...
Cheers!
--Colin Cobb, Las Cruces, NM, USA
|