AN EIGHTY mile early morning Saturday trip led a very
special used parts source. Katy’s place… known as a Ford parts heaven, was once
a small farm that had been recently encircled by suburban sprawl. Being so
hemmed in, it is not allowed to get any bigger, but still holds a treasure
trove of old Ford parts. Her now deceased husband had previously listed
everything resting there. He’d told her that one day the parts would be worth
quite a bit. He was a smart farmer indeed.
Know this! An error can make you do a parts runs for many
miles. In converting an engine to run in front of a Cruise-O-Matic transmission,
I’d made a mistake. I had gotten the wrong flywheel. Anyone who has ever
transplanted an engine to update an older car, or increase cubic-inch
displacement in a vehicle, can attest to this difficulty. You want one particular
thing and often get another. These snags are known by veteran car builders.
They are often avoided by many car restoration people if the vehicle on which they’re
working is a popular model. However, in this case… finding just the right item
was a learning experience. I’d missed an important detail.
You see the old
car came with a crunched engine. The condition was almost a necessity,
considering a modest income. Many cars have been bought before the shed
alongside could fall over on them. Fairlane models are not widely popular for
restorations, as with the smaller Mustang.
When wanting to
take the old, worn 302 c.i.d. V-8 out of the car, an opportunity to upgrade the
ride to a 351W appeared. The 351 would fit nicely into the rather tight engine
bay. However, the 351W Ford shared displacement size with another engine. I
found out the hard way that there was more than one type of 351 CID V-8 engine
made by Ford. One engine line was known by the “W” designation. They were
produced by an engine plant located in the city of Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
The other, the 351C V-8, was made in Cleveland, Ohio. The two are not twins
from a different mother!
Aside from
their different source, in spite of shared displacement size the two are very
different. Many magazine article pages had been written concerning the two
cousins. Most high performance pages concerned how the “351C” had the higher
performance potential of the two, simply in that it had a better
volumetric breathing efficiency right out of the factory. Meaningful for me however,
was that one engine is balanced internally. This means that each rotating component
was balanced individually before being assembled. The other engine contained a crankshaft
that was balanced externally by using the additions of an offset-weighted
flywheel flex plate and similarly weighted front balancer. The upshot was that my
engine upgrade used the weighted flywheel. The transmission flex plate flywheel
I had to mate the bigger engine to the automatic transmission did not have that
weight. I hadn’t noticed the missing weight, but saw only that one bolt hole of
the new flex plate did not line up with the holes in the crankshaft. You see,
that was the way the engine makers indexed the weighted flywheel to the
crankshaft, so it could only be installed in one rotational position. That’s
when I found out the sinful truth. Needing the weighted flex plate because I
already had a weighted damper pulley, I plotted a early morning road trip.
The trip was
not burdensome. The trek gave me visions of coffee-to-go, egg and sausage
croissants and donuts that my diet said I was not to eat. Arriving about
noon. I found that Katie’s son already had the flex plate I needed set out. I
paid for it and then asked how his elderly mother had been doing. He said,
“Katy’s out in the chapel.” As he did so, he pointed out the window toward a double-wide
trailer that was located off to the side of the entrance lane.
He said, “She’s
just straightening up out there. Stop in and see her.”
I climbed into my
car and wheeled out to the double-wide. Above the building entry was a sign
which read, “Katy’s Chasm” As I entered, an old “Ooogah” horn sounded. Katy had
been arranging chairs into neat rows. She placed a hymn book on each seat. She turned
and waved me back out. She said, “You’re a day early.., come back tomorrow.”
I chuckled for she
was fondly known. Since her husband’s last name was Combs, she’d endured many a
ribbing about being a grave, downcast personality. At church her name became
“Katy Combs”.
The double-wide
chapel was originally planned to be a church, but the land was not zoned for
such. The intolerance for early Sunday morning suburban singing was so strong
that Katy could not use the place for that purpose. Instead, much to the
initial chagrin of neighbors, she called it a clubhouse. It became a meeting
place for wayward car nuts. They just happened to become Christian car nuts.
They also happened to bring their own Bibles. Most importantly, they managed to
bring others to the meetings as auxiliary members. That was how the group got
started.
Interesting, however,
was that to be accepted into the club a person needed to first memorize “Katy’s
Chism”. In keeping with her husband’s wishes, her adopted family of Christian
fellowship first had to study. They had to memorize Martin Luther’s “Small
Catechism”. The practice was in keeping with her husband’s Lutheran heritage.
This drove some of the fledgling adoptee candidates to call the place the “Chasm”,
because once anyone dove in they were to come out of the graves of sin
and evil. They would rise up from the depths, be baptized… and take their place
as her family.
We would that a group fills the double-wide regularly. That which was imbalanced becomes balanced.
Those who are sinful become saved. And praises voiced from the depths of the
catacombs can be heard above the realm of the Satanic. Many car nut neighbors
who formerly complained now attend meetings. The local authorities don’t complain
because young folks learn values rather than computer games. Best of all, the
occasion of God being present in an automobile “graveyard” can give eternal
life to
far more than old car parts.
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May your road be smooth, and rest come through Christ our Lord.