Why did you lower your transfer case?
Martin
Martin
CK5
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The Wanderer
- Thread starter superbuickguy
- Start date
Most people frown upon dropping the tcase like that. If you do plan on keeping it dropped, run a 1"square tube instead of the spacers.
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
reduce vibration by reducing drive line angle and preserve u-joints. This is a tow-rig, camper, occasional driver - it is absolutely not my off-road rig. If it were, the 10 bolt and non-float 14 would be scrap already.
*shrugs* I may weld a brace between the two washers - but then again, listening to people whine is music to my ears
what kind of cfm specs come out of that compressor?
Using those spacers incorrectly is a good way to break the frame.
Martin
Martin
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
12.3
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
back to fun after showing off my '40 today at a car show...
riding on air
now steel
I paid someone, once, to take this off.... feels so foolish every time I do it now because it's so easy
getting there
I gave up trying to find my brake hoses... I bought a second set that I didn't use on the fj40 build... no idea where they went. I'm sure they'll turn up a day or two after I get the new ones on.
riding on air
now steel
I paid someone, once, to take this off.... feels so foolish every time I do it now because it's so easy
getting there
I gave up trying to find my brake hoses... I bought a second set that I didn't use on the fj40 build... no idea where they went. I'm sure they'll turn up a day or two after I get the new ones on.
back to fun after showing off my '40 today at a car show...
riding on air
now steel
I paid someone, once, to take this off.... feels so foolish every time I do it now because it's so easy
getting there
I gave up trying to find my brake hoses... I bought a second set that I didn't use on the fj40 build... no idea where they went. I'm sure they'll turn up a day or two after I get the new ones on.
If you find them let me know, as I am in the market for some new ones.
I paid someone, once, to take this off.... feels so foolish every time I do it now because it's so easy
Do tell. Not that I need to do it any time soon, but as I recall it was a royal PITA when I did it last.
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
Take wheel off, put the axle on a jack stand, turn the wheel left, toss some WD-40 on the washers, knock the ball joint out, take the 3 nuts off, spray again with penetrating spray, hit the arm where the ball joint was with a BFH or even sledge hammer. Watch the washers, they usually loosen from the forwardmost to the back first and they don't move up much - but the second they start moving up get some vice grips or channel locks and pull the washer off. Hit until the next loosens even, repeat until they're all removed. Lift the arm off. Very rarely, the washers don't want to lift, so tap them with a drift to get them to turn a bit - once that happens the penetrating lube can get down to where it's needed and it'll come right out.
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
continuation.... like the new front bolt?
I found a rattle
I may have cheated
not going back on
and getting there... not light springs, not light at all
I found a rattle
I may have cheated
not going back on
and getting there... not light springs, not light at all
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
started to mount the sway bar, then realized I really need to buy some more 3/8 grade 8 bolts... tomorrow for sure
yesterday was air spring, now air steering
rear getting there
I always feel like, somebody's watching me
cut the ubolts down
I swear the back spring was harder then the front
sorting shocks
so I did it, I pulled the drum off.... 40%, maybe... time to turn the drum and put new pads.... but I do like stopping so it is what it is.
and good thing I did, passenger side was leaking
yesterday was air spring, now air steering
rear getting there
I always feel like, somebody's watching me
cut the ubolts down
I swear the back spring was harder then the front
sorting shocks
so I did it, I pulled the drum off.... 40%, maybe... time to turn the drum and put new pads.... but I do like stopping so it is what it is.
and good thing I did, passenger side was leaking
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
steering is no longer an air connection
nor is the sway bar
shocking development....
whoa
new whoa
front pad is on the bottom - notice how it's shorter?
thicker pad goes on the back (the longer pad)
apparently the PO didn't notice that. The driver's side was correct, passenger side not so much
assembled with go fast stickers on the shocks
nor is the sway bar
shocking development....
whoa
new whoa
front pad is on the bottom - notice how it's shorter?
thicker pad goes on the back (the longer pad)
apparently the PO didn't notice that. The driver's side was correct, passenger side not so much
assembled with go fast stickers on the shocks
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
THE WANDERERS #7
HITTING THE TRAILS WITH UNCLE HOWARD
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, Carl had just won the Monster Truck Shootout at Gravelrama, through a bizarre chain of luck and weird occurrences. We join them now as they continue on to Uncle Howard's place.
***
Carl stuffed a fresh wad of Red Man into his cheek, fiddled with the radio and dialed in a good country station. The sounds of Amarillo Fats and the Moon Mountain Frog Kickers filled the spacious cab of the huge Suburban. One of Carl's favorite songs was on, the lilting "She Left Me For The Circus Geek Blues."
"Emma, how much more to go 'til we get to Uncle Howard's house anyways?"
Emma put down her knitting, furrowed her brows and peered at the road map. "Well, about 20 miles if you don't get us lost again."
"Lost? How often do I get us lost?"
"Ohh, there was that time in Utah when we had to back up three miles through an abandoned mine to reach the highway, then there was that time in Florida when you drove over that illegal still in the back woods and almost got us shot, then there was ... "
"Hey, put a lid on it, Emma. I mean lately."
"Lately? Remember that short cut in Oregon where we had to spend three days sleeping in The Whale until that Ranger showed us the way out? And then ... "
"Jeez. Never mind, never mind. I just wonder why we have to visit this dumb Uncle of yours anyway."
"Carl, you know that Uncle Howard is very ill and on his last legs. Aunt Millie says he may not last the year. And he is family, you know."
"Emma, that old coot has been dying for the last ten years. And the way he drives, it's amazing he made it past his twenties. Not to mention that lame World War II Jeep he owns. That thing is a death trap! It's got the original shocks from Day One, and I think he only changes the oil every five years or so.
"Now, Carl The doctors say that driving his Jeep around in the woods is healthy for him. It gets him out into the fresh air."
"If dear old Uncle Howard would change his life style a little bit, he'll probably live to be 165. Think about it. He sucks down a full quart of Jack Daniels whiskey every day with no mix or ice. Just drinks it out of a long straw so he don't have to take his cigars out of his mouth while he drinks. And how many cigars does he smoke a day? Twenty, is it?"
"Now dear, he's cut that down to 18 a day."
"Yeh, but he inhales 'em. Big ugly North Carolina stogies and he inhales 'em. Why don't he just chew some Red Man like I do if he's a tobacco man?"
"Well, he did that for a while, but Aunt Millie made him quit. He kept spitting on everything ... the grand kids, the chickens, the cat and the poodle, the mail man, the gas meter reader man, that white haired old lady that came around handing out copies of Watch Tower ... just about anyone he didn't like."
Carl grunted. "Which is most everybody. Your Uncle Howard is the most foul-mouthed irritating person I've ever met. I just hope he doesn't ask me to go trail driving with him again this year. He almost killed us both with that death trap Jeep!"
Emma sighed. "Calm down, dear. We're almost there and I know Uncle Howard will be delighted to see you again."
***
"Hi'ya, fat boy. See you packed some more lard on that overloaded frame of yours. You gonna be a Sumo wrestler or something?"
Carl's eyes narrowed. "Glad to see you again, Uncle Howard. You look great."
"What are you, a doctor? I don't need a medical opinion from someone with the bad taste to drive a Chevy. Like I say, Chevrolet is a French name, which means it's a French car. I drive a Jeep, a real American car."
"The Whale is a GMC, not a Chevy, and it's made in America."
"GMC, Chevy, same thing. You can carve a soup bowl out of a cow pie, but it's still a cow pie underneath. Figured you'd have better taste, but noooooo, you got one a those flashy looking trucks that won't go anywhere. My Jeep might not be pretty, but it'll go places that Walrus of yours won't."
"Whale. Not Walrus. Whale."
"Yep, you sure do look like a whale, Carl. We ought to put up a fence around you and charge admission. Call it Blubber Land. you can be Shamu the Chevy driver. Hee, hee."
Carl's face got very, very red, but Emma poked him in the ribs and he just gritted his teeth.
"Feel like making a little bet on that, Uncle Howard?"
"Oh, you got money to bet? Figured by the size of that beer gut that you spent all your spare money on Cheetos and a bucket of lard to dip 'em in. Well, if you want to part with a few green ones, who am I to deny the mentally bewildered of the opportunity to lose their shorts? Twenny bucks, bozo?"
"Make it forty, Uncle Howard!"
"Pretty feisty for the Pillsbury Doughboy, ain't ya? Why don't you go all the way and plank down a C-note. A hundred dollar bill, triple chins."
"You got a bet! See, I got me a 454 under the hood and 22 of the best shocks money can buy. And that 454 ain't stock, not by a long shot!"
"Modified, huh? Did I ever tell you how to really get performance out of a 454 motor? It's all in the spark plug, ya know."
Carl bit. "Spark plug? Howzat?"
"Easy. Just take out the stock spark plugs, get yourself a set of Champion N2C plugs and screw a Jeep in 'em. Haw, haw! Boy, you went for that like a carp after a worm, chubby."
The hair on the back of Carl's neck stood up and a large vein started throbbing in both temples. "Okay, Uncle Howard ... let's go for it. Howsa 'bout a nice little 50-mile loop, anywhere you want to drive off-road, and I'll follow you like I was tied to you by a rope."
"Make it 40 miles, lumpy. I'm an old man. The doc says I gotta sorta watch it." Uncle Howard then fired up a large green cigar the size of a four cell flashlight. "Every two hours I sorta take enough pills to choke a rhino just to keep my heart from exploding like wet toilet paper."
An hour later, after Uncle Howard had eaten six pork chops and soaked up the drippings in a loaf of pumpernickel bread, then inhaled that, too, they headed out of town, with the crusty old Jeep leading the way.
Emma decided to stay home and knit doilies for Aunt Millie to put under the ceramic doily on top of the TV set. She wanted no part of a trail driving bet between Carl and Uncle Howard.
***
Uncle Howard stopped at the old stone quarry and got out of the Jeep. Carl joined him, eager to do battle.
"Okee-dokee, bubble butt, here's the rules. I'll take off down that gravel road and end up back here. Now, I'll keep my speed down so's you don't get behind and get lost. When I get to a tough section, I'll wait for you to screw it up, then I'll come back and get you and collect my hundred smackers. If, by some weird chance, you can follow me all the way back here without me having to get your saggy cheeks out a trouble, then you win. Got it, porky?"
Carl folded his arms over his chest, looked at the skinny-tired Jeep, then glanced at The Whale. It looked good, sporting some serious 40-inch Gumbo Mudders, with lots of ground clearance. In fact, The Whale looked impressive enough to drive right over Uncle Howard's Jeep, like those car crushing monster trucks. The image stuck in Carl's mind and he beamed and smiled.
"What are you smiling about, pudgy? Let's hit the trails!"
***
Three hours later, Uncle Howard walked into the house, counting a small handful of money, and licking his chops. Behind him was Carl, looking more than a little dejected.
Emma looked up from crocheting a snowflake the size of a pizza. "Well, did you boys have a nice drive in the woods?"
Uncle Howard reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table and knocked back a hearty slug. "I did, but I'm not so sure that fatso here did. This here is his hundred smackers that is now mine. But I'm not one to rub it in. Let the loser tell you the sad story. Yuk, yuk."
Carl slumped in a chair. "He took me through the narrowest trail I ever saw in my life. A dirt bike would have had trouble getting between some of those trees, but that skinny little Jeep just fit in there ... barely. I took half the paint off the side of The Whale trying, but ... "
"Yup, like I said, chubby, I knew you was doomed the second I saw that big dumb Chevy you was driving. You wanna drive in the real woods, you get a jeep. Now, if you all will excuse me. I gotta take some pills to keep me alive. After all, I'm an old man. An old man who's a hundred bucks richer than he was a few hours ago. Hey, cheer up, fat boy. If I got any of this left when I die, I'll leave it to you in my will. Hee, hee!"
Emma heard a thumping sound and looked out of the window. Carl was busy putting dents in the left front fender of The Whale with his head. Emma sighed and returned to her crocheting.
HITTING THE TRAILS WITH UNCLE HOWARD
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, Carl had just won the Monster Truck Shootout at Gravelrama, through a bizarre chain of luck and weird occurrences. We join them now as they continue on to Uncle Howard's place.
***
Carl stuffed a fresh wad of Red Man into his cheek, fiddled with the radio and dialed in a good country station. The sounds of Amarillo Fats and the Moon Mountain Frog Kickers filled the spacious cab of the huge Suburban. One of Carl's favorite songs was on, the lilting "She Left Me For The Circus Geek Blues."
"Emma, how much more to go 'til we get to Uncle Howard's house anyways?"
Emma put down her knitting, furrowed her brows and peered at the road map. "Well, about 20 miles if you don't get us lost again."
"Lost? How often do I get us lost?"
"Ohh, there was that time in Utah when we had to back up three miles through an abandoned mine to reach the highway, then there was that time in Florida when you drove over that illegal still in the back woods and almost got us shot, then there was ... "
"Hey, put a lid on it, Emma. I mean lately."
"Lately? Remember that short cut in Oregon where we had to spend three days sleeping in The Whale until that Ranger showed us the way out? And then ... "
"Jeez. Never mind, never mind. I just wonder why we have to visit this dumb Uncle of yours anyway."
"Carl, you know that Uncle Howard is very ill and on his last legs. Aunt Millie says he may not last the year. And he is family, you know."
"Emma, that old coot has been dying for the last ten years. And the way he drives, it's amazing he made it past his twenties. Not to mention that lame World War II Jeep he owns. That thing is a death trap! It's got the original shocks from Day One, and I think he only changes the oil every five years or so.
"Now, Carl The doctors say that driving his Jeep around in the woods is healthy for him. It gets him out into the fresh air."
"If dear old Uncle Howard would change his life style a little bit, he'll probably live to be 165. Think about it. He sucks down a full quart of Jack Daniels whiskey every day with no mix or ice. Just drinks it out of a long straw so he don't have to take his cigars out of his mouth while he drinks. And how many cigars does he smoke a day? Twenty, is it?"
"Now dear, he's cut that down to 18 a day."
"Yeh, but he inhales 'em. Big ugly North Carolina stogies and he inhales 'em. Why don't he just chew some Red Man like I do if he's a tobacco man?"
"Well, he did that for a while, but Aunt Millie made him quit. He kept spitting on everything ... the grand kids, the chickens, the cat and the poodle, the mail man, the gas meter reader man, that white haired old lady that came around handing out copies of Watch Tower ... just about anyone he didn't like."
Carl grunted. "Which is most everybody. Your Uncle Howard is the most foul-mouthed irritating person I've ever met. I just hope he doesn't ask me to go trail driving with him again this year. He almost killed us both with that death trap Jeep!"
Emma sighed. "Calm down, dear. We're almost there and I know Uncle Howard will be delighted to see you again."
***
"Hi'ya, fat boy. See you packed some more lard on that overloaded frame of yours. You gonna be a Sumo wrestler or something?"
Carl's eyes narrowed. "Glad to see you again, Uncle Howard. You look great."
"What are you, a doctor? I don't need a medical opinion from someone with the bad taste to drive a Chevy. Like I say, Chevrolet is a French name, which means it's a French car. I drive a Jeep, a real American car."
"The Whale is a GMC, not a Chevy, and it's made in America."
"GMC, Chevy, same thing. You can carve a soup bowl out of a cow pie, but it's still a cow pie underneath. Figured you'd have better taste, but noooooo, you got one a those flashy looking trucks that won't go anywhere. My Jeep might not be pretty, but it'll go places that Walrus of yours won't."
"Whale. Not Walrus. Whale."
"Yep, you sure do look like a whale, Carl. We ought to put up a fence around you and charge admission. Call it Blubber Land. you can be Shamu the Chevy driver. Hee, hee."
Carl's face got very, very red, but Emma poked him in the ribs and he just gritted his teeth.
"Feel like making a little bet on that, Uncle Howard?"
"Oh, you got money to bet? Figured by the size of that beer gut that you spent all your spare money on Cheetos and a bucket of lard to dip 'em in. Well, if you want to part with a few green ones, who am I to deny the mentally bewildered of the opportunity to lose their shorts? Twenny bucks, bozo?"
"Make it forty, Uncle Howard!"
"Pretty feisty for the Pillsbury Doughboy, ain't ya? Why don't you go all the way and plank down a C-note. A hundred dollar bill, triple chins."
"You got a bet! See, I got me a 454 under the hood and 22 of the best shocks money can buy. And that 454 ain't stock, not by a long shot!"
"Modified, huh? Did I ever tell you how to really get performance out of a 454 motor? It's all in the spark plug, ya know."
Carl bit. "Spark plug? Howzat?"
"Easy. Just take out the stock spark plugs, get yourself a set of Champion N2C plugs and screw a Jeep in 'em. Haw, haw! Boy, you went for that like a carp after a worm, chubby."
The hair on the back of Carl's neck stood up and a large vein started throbbing in both temples. "Okay, Uncle Howard ... let's go for it. Howsa 'bout a nice little 50-mile loop, anywhere you want to drive off-road, and I'll follow you like I was tied to you by a rope."
"Make it 40 miles, lumpy. I'm an old man. The doc says I gotta sorta watch it." Uncle Howard then fired up a large green cigar the size of a four cell flashlight. "Every two hours I sorta take enough pills to choke a rhino just to keep my heart from exploding like wet toilet paper."
An hour later, after Uncle Howard had eaten six pork chops and soaked up the drippings in a loaf of pumpernickel bread, then inhaled that, too, they headed out of town, with the crusty old Jeep leading the way.
Emma decided to stay home and knit doilies for Aunt Millie to put under the ceramic doily on top of the TV set. She wanted no part of a trail driving bet between Carl and Uncle Howard.
***
Uncle Howard stopped at the old stone quarry and got out of the Jeep. Carl joined him, eager to do battle.
"Okee-dokee, bubble butt, here's the rules. I'll take off down that gravel road and end up back here. Now, I'll keep my speed down so's you don't get behind and get lost. When I get to a tough section, I'll wait for you to screw it up, then I'll come back and get you and collect my hundred smackers. If, by some weird chance, you can follow me all the way back here without me having to get your saggy cheeks out a trouble, then you win. Got it, porky?"
Carl folded his arms over his chest, looked at the skinny-tired Jeep, then glanced at The Whale. It looked good, sporting some serious 40-inch Gumbo Mudders, with lots of ground clearance. In fact, The Whale looked impressive enough to drive right over Uncle Howard's Jeep, like those car crushing monster trucks. The image stuck in Carl's mind and he beamed and smiled.
"What are you smiling about, pudgy? Let's hit the trails!"
***
Three hours later, Uncle Howard walked into the house, counting a small handful of money, and licking his chops. Behind him was Carl, looking more than a little dejected.
Emma looked up from crocheting a snowflake the size of a pizza. "Well, did you boys have a nice drive in the woods?"
Uncle Howard reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table and knocked back a hearty slug. "I did, but I'm not so sure that fatso here did. This here is his hundred smackers that is now mine. But I'm not one to rub it in. Let the loser tell you the sad story. Yuk, yuk."
Carl slumped in a chair. "He took me through the narrowest trail I ever saw in my life. A dirt bike would have had trouble getting between some of those trees, but that skinny little Jeep just fit in there ... barely. I took half the paint off the side of The Whale trying, but ... "
"Yup, like I said, chubby, I knew you was doomed the second I saw that big dumb Chevy you was driving. You wanna drive in the real woods, you get a jeep. Now, if you all will excuse me. I gotta take some pills to keep me alive. After all, I'm an old man. An old man who's a hundred bucks richer than he was a few hours ago. Hey, cheer up, fat boy. If I got any of this left when I die, I'll leave it to you in my will. Hee, hee!"
Emma heard a thumping sound and looked out of the window. Carl was busy putting dents in the left front fender of The Whale with his head. Emma sighed and returned to her crocheting.
Were the springs off the brakes when you pulled it apart?!? I've never seen that happen before. Whoa indeed.
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
they were assembled correctly, just wrong pad order. I'm sure what they did was copy the passenger side with the driver's side.... there was also no fluid in the driver's side slave cylinder.... anyway, it'll have brakes and that is a good thing 
Are those Rough Country springs too?
superbuickguy
1/2 ton status
they are
Everyone says they are stiff? Whatever... looking good!
