Just as I was loading the Camaro on the trailer…
I got home and started getting ready to load the car onto to the trailer while my wife was getting the RV ready. I started up the car, started warming it up, and was talking to my wife through the window. It idled fine for a few minutes while we talked. Then I heard it… tapping. I jumped out of the car to investigate only to hear it even louder now. I knew deep down it was a rod but I so didn’t want it to be true. To be sure I called Jim, hopeful that there was something simple and I was over-reacting. It wasn’t. When the car started up the next time it was way louder and clearly a rod. We shut it off and let out a collective grooan. All that work for nothing, we were going to watch from the sidelines. My wife was unfazed once she heard the final diagnosis. ”They change motors all the time at the track” she said. I knew this was true, but man this car had put up a fight to get ready. How in the world could we rally and get this thing changed in time. Where would we find the motor? How would we get a motor swapped at this late hour? Its a Wednesday and all of us had to work. We were leaving Thursday night – Friday morning.
We didn’t ponder long. In my garage was a basket case Camaro Berlinetta with a niceish looking 350 that I had bought for a parts car for the last race. It had started once but the flywheel was junk. I had hoped to put it all back together after the race as a fall/winter project. It was covered in bits of shiny I wasn’t sure belonged at a Lemons track but was put together very badly. So we put together a plan, didn’t give ourselves time to change our minds and hit the phones to call in for reinforcements. Jim had me get the Camaro and try and limp it back to his shop, but it complained too loudly and I shut it off a block down the street. The next few miles on the odometer after 00043 we powered by a Ford. Yeah I said it, a Ford Ranger bumper pushing me the distance to Jim’s shop where all the tools were that we would need to get the job done. I’m not sure if it was adrenalin or insanity but the motor came out in under an hour.
The team members we called had showed up at my house and were beginning the tear down on the other motor. Minutes after pulling the motor we were back at my house to finish taking the motor out on the Berlinetta. It protested some, but about an hour or so afterwards it was loaded into the back of a waiting Ford Ranger and it too was off to the shop. We left the Berlinetta there engineless and dripping fluids, tools strewn everywhere like something had exploded in my garage. The Berlinetta would be the victim of a hatchet job of engine swap.
We sent Bernie to get a paper and junk food, the paper we would take a picture of to prove when we pulled the motor. After going to (I can only guess) Ohio and back Bernie came back just as the Berlinetta’s motor was being dropped into the Iroc.
At this point we had more people than wrenches and it slowed us down a bit but we began hooking up everything taking directions from Jim to make sure we were doing something stupid. Ok well stupid-er. Bolts flew in quickly and everyone worked well together almost like a well oiled machine, I said almost lol. Before long we were staring at too much chrome in a Lemon but we had no clue if this beast would start up.
We didn’t have a oil dipstick because of the iron headers, we probably are going to be carrying a couple dozen sockets to race track in the engine compartment but at around 2 a.m. the Lemons fired up and idled. This will be motor number 3. Hopefully 3 is our lucky number for car number 3.
Four guys installing four bolts. Jim and I found this funny.
Really though what an awesome team. Not one guy complained, we just got in there and got it done. Not only are these guys great team members but great friends. A special thanks goes to the Lemons widows who put up with us playing with cars until 2am. We wouldn’t be so great without such lovely forgiving wives and girlfriends. Another special thanks goes to Jim who kept everyone optimistic and light hearted. I write this completely exhausted but I have to admit it was a little fun, and even though I loath to hear it, it was better to blow up before it goes on the trailer than at the track. Crossing my fingers and praying never to hear a never knocking or ticking motor unless its cruising over the finish line. Wish us luck!
So you show up in my driveway….
So you show up in my driveway after being out God knows where, doing God knows what? You were out up to no good being belligerent and then you wander home…with this rusty riff raff. Welcome home Race Car lol
Best line ever for a lemons racer….
“That old street walker had one last John, and she was going to rock his socks off. ”