Running again after years of storage.
All posts by cs
Pesky Gasoline Leak
Uncontained fuel is volatile and a safety issue but there are degrees. Here is a list in order of seriousness:
- Gusher – shut off, get clear, notify the EPA
- Oozer – flow in a very gradual way, No Smoking!
- Leakage – drip drip drip, a puddle will form, have a Fire Bottle close by
- Seepage – see leakage, a nuisance, a puddle forms only after some delay
- Weepage – localized moist or damp area, could be deferred… if you feel lucky
Sometimes Seepage will, overtime, fix itself and become Weepage. My fuel pump, when off, was the latter. Containment was not difficult, however when operating [pressurized] there was definitely a leak. The old seals had become dry and hardened from disuse, decay, and exposure to old gasoline and would no longer stem the tide.
Happily there is a restorative kit available though billed as a solution for the models W113 [Pagoda], W111 [Fintail], and certain W108 models using the “Long Style” pump. Mine was an early 1st version and I was confident that it would be suitable.

The way to find out was to order the package, disassemble, compare old parts with the new replacement and find out. The many pieces included 6 “O” rings. These would solve the escaping fuel problem. Also included were new shaft bearings and motor brushes. After 50 years / 125,000 miles use these original wear items had served their purpose. A tutorial explained the inner workings and was invaluable. The method for keeping fuel from going past the shaft housing was a clever bit: To seal the shaft to the pump housing there is a black plastic-type insert with what looks to be a neoprene collar that fits into the opening of the housing. It has a flat surface that matches a flat surface on the Bellows seal. The Bellows Seal is called a “Mechanical Seal” or “Slide Ring Seal”. A small O-Ring seals the Bellows onto the shaft. The Bellows Seal sits on the O-Ring and rotates with the shaft held in position by the locating washer. … and so on and so forth.
I merely had to follow the instructions and was only flummoxed when I compared my [removed] washer with that of the cup shaped washer from the picture tutorial. They didn’t look the same; not one bit. I rationalized that it was my 1st gen design and at this point it was deep thought and analysis to achieve understanding. The new bearings were sealed type and so I left the little cup washer out completely — thinking it superfluous. I didn’t want to alter the shaft [shim] height orientation but I deduced that its absence would not and even became convinced that it could have been a detriment.
Still, having a piece left over after reassembly is unnerving and leaving it on the bench was a leap of faith. Fingers crossed there.
Last task was to dress the commutator. Wear and tear had built a ridge of copper, or rather a valley from the carbon brush(s) track. I knocked that down ever so gently and precisely using a fingernail file not wanting to booger the armature.

Finally, the unit was complete (excepting the confused washer) and was buttoned up and re-installed. A twist of the Ignition Key would determine success or failure. I poured fresh fuel into the tank checked for Seepage. So far so good. Jumped in the driver’s seat and turned the key. The pump at this point should and did run; purring quietly. Most importantly, no Leakage. Hoorah! and again roadworthy.
Go Kart Go!
Too young for a driver’s license but mechanically inclined and anxious to be involved in things auto-motive I was thrilled to have a Go Kart. I spent many hours in the garage wrenching, tinkering, and learning mechanics. The main excitement of course was the driving. Neither machine nor I were approved on regular streets obviously so a fav venue was the Kerman Kartways. A 1/3 mile road course with many tight turns, a broad easy banked sweeper and of course a front straightaway created delight.
My *new* Kart was acquired from an answered ad in the local classifieds. Current owner was away on military duty and his family charged to sell it for him. The selling representative knew little about the particulars but it was obvious that it had been a race kart in its heyday and I had visions therefore of attaining great speeds. There was no test drive; just assurances that it ran and nearly $300 was exchanged.
The frame (circa 1963 or ’64) by Kavalla I promptly repainted in Competition Orange. Chrome & Neoprene Steering Wheel. Foam padded and naugahyde upholstery. Aluminium floor pan. There were some exotic bits such as magnesium spyder-type wheels with Carlisle Slicks, and a disc brake on the aluminium live axle chain directly driven by a hot little MC9 McCulloch. This engine was a 2 stroke designed for power with light weight. Since there wasn’t a clutch for ease of starting, weight mattered. The procedure was to aim front wheels in the desired direction, Lift the back end high in the air with one hand on rear frame rail and the other guiding and pushing on the seat frame top. While jogging at a good clip you would then lower the back wheels onto the tarmac and jump in. The forward momentum and sudden weight on wheels was enough to spin the engine and with a quick stab to the throttle and possibly a deft hand [as choke] over carb intake it would ‘catch’ and away you’d go.
It was necessary to continually adjust fuel / air mixture ratio for prevailing conditions and max performance. This was achieved by screw in/out needle valve on the carburetor. Alternatively, fine tuning could be done while underway. Shifting your body partially and reaching back with fingertips to tweek was common place. If too rich, there was severe power loss. This adjustment was crucial because too lean and piston and cylinder would overheat and eventually fail for lack of lubrication (oil is mixed with fuel). The adjustment per the manual was to set at 1 1/4 turns open initially as a baseline.
This didn’t work for my application and I was perplexed. The engine would only run properly starting [lean] at about 1/2 turn. This was unsettling because I fully understood the risk of sticking the motor. I only realized years later what the seller failed to communicate: The carburetor had been [oversized] jetted for racing alcohol. Alcohol gives a power gain but at increased flowage. So, with the carb set up in this manner running regular pump gas was a downer. Had I run the special fuel instead of gasoline, I could have flown!
Just as well probably. Speed equates to risk. Still, it was a ball of fun in a helmet.

sloppy shifter
Something was amiss as 2nd was difficult to engage without clashing and then it would pop-out of gear under load. Poorly adjusted linkage? Bad syncro? Big overhaul?

None of the above. Inspection of the shift lever arm and yoke revealed that the rope-like material originally used for bushing had perished. The shift lever bearing (#7 in the Fig.) was sloppy and wobbly loose in its retaining bracket and no longer capable of fulfilling its function as a pivot axis. Fresh bushings were sourced.
This was a bit of a challenge because the original gearbox with Hydrak fluid coupling and a steering column mounted shifter had been abandoned early on as problematic and difficult to maintain. Hydrak was an early response to the American export market that expected and got automatic transmissions in their higher end car models. This answer to clutchless shifting (1940’s technology by comparison to fully automatic) was transitional and some owners regressed to the more robust standard (fully manual) shift option.
The retrofit parts list would have been extensive and since the conversion occurred almost 50 years ago, I had no idea which parts were used. I assumed that some may have come from a donor car. The clue was the 3 bolt pattern in the shift bearing retaining brackets pictured. Browsing parts manuals of similar vintage models I deduced (correctly) that the shifting linkage was transplanted from the type 190 SL.
The two sandwich halves now firmly grasp the shift lever bearing and driveability is restored.
Wheels and Tires Renewed

They last hit the road in 1988 and had been resting on rims, leaves, and dusty cement floor in dry rot neglect.
As you can see the old tires were aged. Visible in the image are sidewall checks and splits. In other areas the tread has separated from the tire casing.
NOS tires were sourced and shipped. The originals delivered with the car as new would have been the optional weißwandbereifung [white-walls] that were in vogue in the USA market during that era. White-walls are exceedingly popular for collectors but I consider them an overly used gussification; (ditto for continental tire kit installations, added rear fender skirts, and dangly things from the inside rearview mirror).

This Michelin “X” tube type radial is period correct and to my taste an authentic european sporting look.
Never the Right Tool #*!!
A statement of frustration blurted by my Father when attempting a household repair. I think his meager tool box consisted of pliers, crescent wrench, hammer, pipe wrench and a couple of screwdrivers and bailing wire; so, when the odd DIY task such as connecting the new dishwasher came along his kit was lacking. The lament always signaled impending defeat and preceded the interruptive trip to the hardware store.
Flash forward. I have a rather massive 14mm Allen Wrench used to remove the hex pattern oil fill/drain plugs on my vintage car. This tool allows me to service fluid level on both the transmission and differential. Almost. It turns out that this trusty wrench is too bulky to access the fill plug on the rear axle. The tool won’t physically fit between the plug and the adjacent gas tank. Consternation follows. What was the method to pull this plug? What tool did I use before and where is it now? Had I ever actually serviced this item? My rolling chest of drawers, while hardly complete, is still a far cry from the random assortment in my Dad’s day. Still, after rummaging through, I realized that I didn’t own the proper tool; a short straight hex key on a 3/8″ socket.
Instead of halting the operation, getting cleaned up, and driving to the Auto Parts House (the proper thing) but in grand gesture toward Dad’s way — I improvised.
Staring thoughtfully at the internal hex pattern in the plug it occurred to me that a hex head bolt (male) might just be the ticket. 14mm is nearly equivalent to .5″ and my salvaged supply of old bolts might offer a match. I eyeballed a handful of candidates and then began to measure in a more precise way with Calipers. A lag bolt with head measuring .56″ was too great a span, another sample, inadequate. I didn’t want to louse up the female end of the plug. A bolt head that was too small would surely strip it.
An old carriage bolt turned up as suitable and with vice-grips pliers for leverage I was able to cleanly extract the unmanageable plug.
Exasperation avoided and a run to the store annoyance averted, when next surfing Amazon I will order: “The Right Tool”
Kiersten – Yale University
Streamed live on May 23, 2016
Dean Lynn Cooley, Senior Associate Dean Pamela Schirmeister, and various faculty host the Yale Graduate School of Arts and Sciences Commencement Diploma Ceremony
wait for it…
It’s a Goner
My initial concern was one of monetary loss ($750). My connected device was gone. Misplaced. Standing-by in the left front pocket of my trousers, normally, it lends a sense of form against my thigh. An occasional pat or brush of hand reassures that it is secure. Previous experience told me that this was a good location. Too rigid for a hip pocket and prone to spill from an open shirt pocket; it had only slipped a very view times when seated within the soft confines of sofa or pillow chair. One naturally makes a wallet / phone check upon exit.
The last reaffirmation check revealed that the usual location was empty. Confounded, I checked the other pocket possibilities. Nope. It was missing.
Recovery would be a puzzle. I would have to recollect when last handled as well as account for all events and movements since. A window of confidence was roughly 45 minutes but then you realize that a general summary recollection is clear but all of the small ‘witness’ details insignificant at the time, are brain stored in short term low level memory. Initially I was assuring myself that my phone was likely safe and would “turn up” but no; it took hours of revisualization and introspective thought to reconstruct.
The other pilot and I were leaving the airport on foot for an impromptu round trip to Cooper’s Island but not before a quick pit back at the jet to retrieve hat and sunblock. I reckoned that while crouching beside open suitcase in the bag compartment perhaps it had deposited there (False hope. It hadn’t ).
Early on along our route we encountered two young girls opposite direction who were keen on our uniforms. We side stepped clear of the road and had a pleasant chat on the shoulder with one being a Londoner and the other a Local. Before carrying onward there was a FB friending and group Selfie. Did I withdraw my (camera) phone and mis pocket opening? Did it fall silently into the deep grass? I would later retrace this 1/2 mile stretch trying unsuccessfully to recall the exact spot we all stood. Sweep scanning blades of green for a glint of case or reflection on gorilla glass a dark thought occurs. Pickpocket! (Possible I suppose but a stretch)
Having arrived at the park entrance and while stalling for a bit while the other fellow captured some white sand beach setting photo I angled my leg to retie shoe lace. (squeezed from pocket opening) Was it the first beach or the next? Which fence railing?
24 hours had elapsed and I had gone back twice to search replaying everything but to no avail. I had to exhaust the possibility that it wasn’t just laying there undiscovered. After all, an opportunist would surely have attempted to access and the clever Find-my-Smartphone feature would broadcast its coordinate location. Alas, being out of country as I was the phone’s antenna was in airplane mode and therefore off network. A thief would merely have to wait it out knowing that the owner would probably remotely erase the device contents eventually after losing hope.
In fact, I was seriously poised to do that very thing. A data breach would be ugly with personal information of every kind risking exposure. The phone is locked by 4 digit PIN but with time and sophistication a good hacker might succeed. I learned that while the data wipe feature would allay these concerns, this option would also kill any possibility of tracking or easily identifying the device. In fact, it would make it possible for the discoverer to activate a fresh install — finders keepers.
Disgusted that I lost control of my property, resigned to writing off the asset as a loss, disappointed in having failed to find it, soul searching; why I am such a slave to the thing in the first place. Like so many by habit, I find myself staring at the small screen during every possible moment. How to go about replacing? Perhaps now is a good time to go cold turkey and kick this addiction? I’m part way there.
By the next day I’ve traversed many states of mind; bummed, gloom, depression withdrawal but I’m less frequently checking the empty pocket or having phantom sensations. I’m actually gazing about spaces and at people during the idle moments.
By now the lost phone should be at lo-batt or nearly depleted. Seriously ready to Nuke…
Reunited
[spoiler alert: review the previous post first]
The CSR behind the desk at airport FBO doubted that I’d ever see it again. It had not shown up at their lost & found. I hadn’t expected it to. Whoever picks it up will keep it, she says. Just the same, I was wondering if perhaps an honest citizen might turn it in. I had asked a Park Service maintenance employee if they knew and the suggestion was floated that I try the local Police Substation. The CSR was dubious and I was primed to agree but then somehow we decided; let’s try.
She picked up the phone. I was only party to the one sided conversation but when she started relaying bullet questions from the other end such as: What color is it? and: What is the screensaver? (Sailboat) and then: What is the name on the boat? it became crystal there was going to be a happy outcome.
The CSR personally drove me over to claim it. I would have liked to have rewarded the soul who turned it in. My faith in humanity is restored. May that individual enjoy their good Karma.
I credit good police work. The officer had actually called over to the Bermudian Maritime Authority and determined that the yacht pictured from the lock screen was not in country. I explained that a year ago that it had been and the official confirmed this to be known.
BTW, I’m off the wagon but trying to be diligent about usage. It goes without saying I’m installing a collar and chain 😉
leave less to chance
What can go wrong WILL go wrong. I only had the one key and it was really looking past it. Not visible by thumbnail image is a hairline crack across the blade; a victim of too many bendings from body bumps and slams (the engine control panel and ignition switch is located in the companionway and the key protrudes) It might eventually break off (in the switch!) or go missing. Either way, SOL.
I took the original to a locksmith or two to see about cutting a new one. Out of the zillion types onhand, none could procure a suitable blank. Yanmar no longer provides for replacement keys. Solution: Order the entire switch. Comes with an extra to boot.