mod@tech

Dates: circa 1970s (above), June 1975 (below)

Location: Toledo, Ohio

Source: Howard MacKenzie, via Toledo Lucas County Public Library Digital Collections

What do you see here?

Photo by Howard MacKenzie

Back-to-back Florida hurricanes have managed to erase a century’s worth of motorsport history by doing lethal damage to the broad, flat sands that formed a natural race course along the coast of Daytona Beach, Florida, where pioneering racers set early world land speed records and NASCAR hosted some of its very first events. The combined wallop of hurricanes Ian and Nicole, coming within weeks of each other this autumn, not only wiped out the former course in many spots, but damaged crucial seawalls, leaving the raging Atlantic lapping at the main north-south beachfront highway, State Route A1A, which formed part of the final racing circuit that incorporated the wide, densely packed beach.

The sheer scope of the damage, which also undermined numerous beachfront properties, has left the Daytona Beach racing community wondering to what degree the beach sand can possibly be replenished. The worst damage was confined to the sand portion of the historic beach-road course, which was actually the last of three used for racing purposes before development and safety concerns moved the action to Bill France’s new Daytona International Speedway, located about five miles inland, beginning with the first Daytona 500 in 1959. NASCAR’s very first race, an event for Modifieds scheduled just after the organization was founded, took place on the beach-road course.

The Daytona sand is one of global motorsport’s holiest shrines, predating the earliest action at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway by more than five years. The beginning goes back to 1903, when a bunch of car enthusiasts, led by builders Ransom E. Olds and Alexander Winton, staged a Speed Carnival that started in Ormond Beach, at the north end of the broad, sandy expanse, which was then a playground for the ultra-rich. Olds’ Pirate and Winton’s Bullet battled against the clock in a series of straight-line runs that saw the speed record elevated to a heart-stopping 68 mph.

Photo courtesy Bus McKim

The speed crowd gathered around the original Ormond Garage in Ormond Beach—now re-created as part of a racing-themed park—as velocity continued to escalate. One of the first to do so was arguably William K. Vanderbilt, who showed up in 1904 with a Mercedes and immediately rocketed the record to 92 mph. The ensuing decades saw hundreds of would-be record setters aim their cars down the wide expanse of packed sand. In 1906, Massachusetts-born Fred Marriott pushed the Stanley Rocket steamer to more than 127 mph.

The record runs proceeded south on the sand from Ormond Beach on a course that grew necessarily longer as cars grew faster. We spoke with historian Buz McKim, the founding executive director of the NASCAR Hall of Fame in Charlotte, who explained that the beach course actually existed in three varying forms. Americans like Frank Lockhart and Ray Keech, both Indianapolis winners, were part of the push to 200 mph that saw Lockhart killed in 1928 when his car tumbled into the surf for a second time during a record attempt.

As the cars grew in speed capability, the speed course stretched south from Ormond Beach through Daytona Beach and into the suburban communities of Daytona Beach Shores and Ponce Inlet. It was the coming of British record-breakers like Major Henry Segrave and Sir Malcolm Campbell, who battled over the record during the 1920s, that inadvertently obsoleted the beach course for record runs: Campbell’s 1,000-horsepower, aero-engine Blue Bird pushed the limit to more than 276 mph on the sand by 1935. After that, the really fast guys vamoosed to the endless shutdown areas of the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah in search of even higher speeds.

Photo courtesy Bus McKim

“When the land speed record guys went out to Bonneville in 1935, Sig Haugdahl had the idea to make a race track on the beach in 1936,” McKim says. “They ran that course from 1936 to 1947, which was in Daytona Beach Shores, and then they moved south to Ponce Inlet, to the course that we all know, in 1948 and they ran there from 1948 to 1958.”

A transplanted Norweigian who came to make his home in Daytona Beach, Haugdahl was a very early IMCA Sprint car champion who had built the monstrous 836-cu.in. Wisconsin Special to take the speed crown away from future Indy champion Tommy Milton in 1922. Setting the record at three miles a minute (“He was sideways with AAA, and they never gave him credit for it,” McKim says), Haugdahl wanted to preserve racing on the sand after the fast guys split for Bonneville. He laid out a 4.1-mile oval course that raced south along the pavement of A1A in Ponce Inlet before looping through the dunes and heading back up the beach. Haugdahl scheduled a stock car race for early 1936, with Daytona Beach officials underwriting the purse and the American Automobile Association’s Contest Board handling the rules enforcement. After a scoring dispute, Milt Marion was declared the winner.

Photo courtesy Bus McKim

Placing fifth was France, who had relocated to Daytona Beach from Washington, D.C., and opened a midtown garage not far from Haugdahl’s shop. The two racers became fast friends, and after several money-losing beach races, Haugdahl convinced France to take over as promoter beginning in 1938. Before founding NASCAR up the road at the Streamline Hotel in 1947, France turned the beach race profitable, and even managed to win one before World War II intervened.

France is particularly recognized in racing history for organizing the Daytona races, and NASCAR, on a shoestring budget. As McKim explains, “The races had lost a ton of money at first and France couldn’t find anybody (to fund a purse). Bill first called a guy named Ralph Hankinson (a well-known Midwest promoter who wintered near Daytona Beach), but he couldn’t afford the 25-cent toll call so he called collect, to try and talk him into helping promote the race, and (Hankinson) didn’t know who Bill France was, so he wouldn’t accept the call. So Bill was complaining to a friend of his named Charlie Reese, who was kind of a gangster, ran nightclubs and was a bootlegger, and he told Bill, ‘If you want to do the legwork, I’ll put the money up.’ So they promoted the 1938 race and they split $200. It was the first time the race had made any money, and that all evolved into what became NASCAR after the war. You had people basically racing through other people’s back yards, so France dealt with the county and moved the course further south through Ponce Inlet beginning in 1948.”

After the war, the beach races (and speed trials) formed the nucleus of what would become Daytona Speedweeks, which would draw thousands of racers and fans to the beach course each February. The second race ever presented for NASCAR’s novel Strictly Stock division was held on the beach-road course in July 1949, with Red Byron, NASCAR’s first champion, taking the win. Early stock car heroes like Marshall Teague, Bill Blair, Lee Petty and Fireball Roberts captured NASCAR wins on the long loop of sand and blacktop before Paul Goldsmith, still a race fan today at age 97, won the final beach race in a Pontiac prepped by Daytona Beach mechanic Ray Fox.

Beach damage at the North TurnPhoto by Zetta Baker

McKim, who has a lifetime of NASCAR backgrounding and now lives near its global headquarters in Daytona Beach, said that portion of the coastline has never recorded the level of hurricane damage as it has recently. “It’s pretty rough,” he says, comparing the damage to that sustained when Hurricane Donna struck in 1960, and noting that a beach parade of historic race cars set for Speedweeks 2023 in Ponce Inlet has already been canceled. Racing’s North Turn, a landmark eatery in Ponce Inlet located at the northern end of the beach course, sustained heavy damage but hopes to reopen in February. Other hurricane-related issues will include dune restoration along A1A and the re-creation of nesting grounds for endangered sea turtles.

The sand that engineers will be trying to replace is very special, and not just because of racing. “The U.S. Geological Survey had done an exhaustive study of the sands here, and they learned that over the eons of time, it came down from the Piedmont region (of the Carolinas),” McKim says. “And it was mostly quartz. Just because of the way the coast sits, you once had this incredible speedway, which was 500 feet wide and 23 miles long. Basically, this was God’s natural race track. I think they’re going to do the best they can to get it back.”

Brad Shawger was like most other 18-year-olds looking for cheap transportation as his first car. Unlike most other 18-year-olds, he landed on an Isuzu Impulse. Designed by Giorgetto Giugiaro (famous for the first-generation Volkswagen Golf and BMW M1, among many others), it was an important car stylistically, and quite a reach for the Japanese car manufacturer best known for making trucks.

The Impulse —a replacement for the handsome Isuzu 117 Coupe (also a Giugiaro design) that was never sold in the U.S.— owed its existence to the mundane Isuzu Gemini, itself an adaptation of the Opel Kadett, or General Motors’ T-car. Launched in South America in 1973, the T-car platform was first sold in the U.S. as the Chevrolet Chevette for the 1976 model year, and quickly became a huge seller for GM and Chevrolet.

How the Impulse came to be

The Impulse started out as the final ace in Giugiaro’s ’70s-production-based concept-car deck. The “Asso” (Ace) series started with 1973’s Audi 80-based Asso di Picche and 1976’s BMW 3-series-based Asso di Quadri preceding it. They were never produced. Small-scale Japanese car builder Isuzu, a former Giugiaro client, came calling for a replacement for the long-in-the-tooth, personal-luxury 117 coupe that had been in production since 1968. Italdesign was given free reign with the style —the only requirement was that the chassis was based on the Isuzu Gemini, a car sold here as both the Buick/ Opel from 1976-’80, and the rear-drive Isuzu I-Mark from 1981-on. The result was Asso di Fiori: the Ace of Clubs.

The clean wedge shape was largely unadorned, with flush glass and cleverly hidden seams. The hood wraps around atop the fenders and helps form a body-length character line; the A-pillar is rendered invisible by the leading edge of the full-framed door. Inside, the instrument cluster adjusted with the steering column, and featured a pair of pods, located within fingers’ reach from the steering wheel, that incorporated lights, wipers, and more. Launched at the 1979 Tokyo Motor Show, it caused such a stir that Isuzu management green-lit the design and fast-tracked its production.

The Impulse makes its way to the States

A few concessions were made for US federalization: the nose was raised slightly so that the headlights would be at legal height, the windshield was steepend by four degrees, and the whole package was enlarged an inch all around to accommodate American-sized buyers.

The production car was named Piazza. Assembly of the four-cylinder, rear-wheel-drive coupe began in September 1980 with varying trim levels available in Japan, Europe, and Australia. Both a five-speed manual and four-speed Aisin automatic transmissions were available. U.S. deliveries did not begin until the 1983 model year, where the stylish vehicle was re-named the Impulse. Cars featured everything as standard equipment, including air conditioning, power windows and door locks, four-wheel disc brakes, and some rad-looking “waffle” alloy wheels. The only option was a choice of manual or automatic transmission.

Stateside, all Impulses came standard with Isuzu’s 90-hp SOHC 1,994-cc inline four-cylinder engine with I-Tec fuel injection for the 1983 and ’84 model years; later, the engine was upgraded to a 110-hp 2,254-cc four-cylinder (for U.S. cars only). A 140-hp 1,994-cc MPFI turbo model was introduced for 1985; the turbo model was given the RS designation for 1987. The 1988 models received interior and exterior changes, most notably the addition of a rear spoiler and slimmer headlamps allowing for the elimination of the pop-up covers.

Remember Joe Isuzu?

The car was never a sales success. Even a clever ad campaign with character “Joe Isuzu” (played by actor David Leisure), a pathological liar who made outrageous and over-inflated claims about Isuzu cars, didn’t boost sales.

Isuzu gave it one last shot by sending the car to “finishing school” for the 1988-’89 model years. Impulses went to Lotus (then owned by General Motors) for suspension tuning and the all-important “Handling by Lotus” badges. Underneath it all, the Impulse remained a GM T-car—this, from a company best known for making small, economical trucks like the Chevy LUV. The final year for the rear-drive Impulse was 1989, though it re-appeared in front-wheel-drive form one year later as Isuzu’s version of the Chevrolet-sold Geo Storm. It’s estimated that some 13,000 first- and second-generation models were built for worldwide consumption.

A schoolboy’s crush

Brad, now 42, looks back to when he was 18. “My first cars were two VW Beetles, a 1969 and a ’71. I thought they were the coolest. The plan was to fix one up with the help of my dad, who was a diesel mechanic, and sell the other. I sold one car and needed something to drive while I worked on the other Beetle. Our neighbor had a car that was sitting under a tarp for a long time and my dad said, ‘Why don’t you ask him what he’s doing with that thing?’ So, I did. It had drivetrain issues, but $500 later it was sitting in my parents’ garage.” Brad was now the owner of a five-speed 1985 Isuzu Impulse, black with brown interior. “I quickly fell in love with that little car and had lots of fun through high school and college,” he adds.

Despite doing lots of work to his Impulse, including a paint job and an engine rebuild, it fell victim to four years of salt and Pennsylvania winters where Brad grew up. “The rear end went out and it rusted badly… and I was going away to school,” he says. “It sat behind my dad’s shed for a few years until he finally said it was time to get rid of it. Even in 2000, it was tough to get parts and I could not find the rear end pieces I needed. The heater core leaked, damaging the interior, which also housed a few mice. I stripped it down to save everything I could and put the parts in bins. There they sat in my dad’s shed for 20 years,” Brad laments. “I always hoped I could find another one day.” Turns out, this was one of the best things he could have done.

The search for another Impulse begins

“About 2020, I thought it was time to start looking for an Impulse. I hadn’t seen one in nearly 20 years. I got on forums and Facebook groups, including isuzone.org, where I found lots of great folks who were eager to help,” Brad says. “I had just missed a Florida car that was exactly what I was looking for, and shortly thereafter, I landed on a pair in Tennessee, which were in about as good of shape as the one I parted out, so I bought them both. At a minimum, I thought they would be good for parts. I still have them,” he adds. “I was able to find a bunch of stuff on clearance, too, on rockauto.com: a brake master cylinder for $1.25 and brake calipers for $10! I replaced everything I could on my gold 1985 and got it running, but it still needs a lot of body and interior work.”

In 2020 Brad moved to Maryland and parked the two cars in his friend’s backyard in Pittsburgh. Lo and behold, the car he missed out on previously reappeared on Facebook: a silver 1984 five-speed, one-owner, Florida car with 67,000 miles.

The right Impulse comes along

“The car ended up with a dealer in Ohio, and I stayed in touch with the guy. He said he wanted to hold onto it. In the summer of 2021, I was visiting my parents in Pennsylvania, and Ohio is just over the border. I conveniently brought my truck and trailer, paid the guy a visit, made a deal, and came home with the car! It had great documentation, including a detailed mechanic’s log going back to 2000 that has proven invaluable when working on it,” Brad says.

It was clear that the Impulse had been well-maintained and cared for, especially on the exterior. “There was some paint fade on the bumpers and everything rubber needed to be replaced, but it was obviously garage-kept. It came with the original Guigiaro waffle wheels. I saved those and put on a spare set that I had refinished from one of my other cars. There was some surface rust at the base of the rear window at the wiper arm and some minor dents and dings. I’ve had it repaired and the bumper painted, but otherwise, it is an original car,” Brad says. “When I take it to shows, reactions are mixed. Most people don’t know what it is. Others say ‘Wow, I’ve heard about these, but I’ve never actually seen one!’ A small percentage of people know the car and the history and get excited about it.”

Keeping the Impulse on the road

The biggest challenge in owning the Isuzu has been parts. “If I had not had my stash of parts, I would have been in big trouble. Some years ago, I bought [and installed] a brand-new muffler off the internet. Virtually everything on the car that could leak, did. Everything has now been updated and replaced —radiator core, hoses, gaskets, ball joints, shocks, clutch slave cylinder, fuel line, vacuum lines, and rebuilt master cylinder—to make it a dependable driver. I’ve gotten some parts from Japan —it took four months until they arrived!” Brad says. “I found an ’83-’85 parts book and spent many hours researching part numbers and bought many parts online,” he adds. The only thing Brad has not been able to find: a heater core —a common problem among all his Impulses.

Among Brad’s arsenal is a 2009 six-speed Dodge Challenger SRT8, a 1995 Jeep Cherokee five-speed manual that’s been lifted 6.5 inches with mud terrain tires, and a truck and trailer to haul his toys. “I don’t discriminate. I like all kinds of cars,” he says laughing. What’s next? Brad has his eye on a Mitsubishi Starion. Regardless of what he’s driving, Brad Shawger is an Isuzu guy who became immediately hooked —thanks to an “Impulse” buy years ago.

John Voelcker, our resident EV expert, joins us on this episode of the Hemmings Hot Rod BBQ Podcast for a 2022 year-end update on what’s happening in the world of electric vehicles. We talk about favorites like the Lucid Air and Hyundai G80 Electrified, along with some of his not-so-favorites, which we’ll let him tell you about. He then recounts a hilarious ride along experience in the Porsche Cayman GT4 E-performance race car, and even touches on that new Toyota Prius that everyone seems to be talking about.

Resident Electric Vehicle Expert, John Voelcker, Talks the Best and Worst EVs of 2022

www.youtube.com

So, grab a beverage or sit back in your favorite easy chair, because the BBQ is about to begin!

What at first looks like a fairly typical late-twentieth-century street rod is anything but, as we see once the engine swapped into this 1928 Ford Model A roadster pickup listed for sale on Hemmings.com is revealed. To begin with, it’s been converted to a mid-engine setup using a Ford 4.6L Cobra dual overhead-camshaft V-8 and Pantera transaxle. Then, to accommodate the drivetrain and to make it accessible, the entire body and chassis have been re-engineered so the former can tilt forward and reveal all the work done to the pickup. One would expect such an extensive undertaking to still have a few loose ends, but from the pictures it appears nothing here has been overlooked, from the finished interior to the folding top. From the seller’s description:

Model A pickup with a Ford 4.6 Cobra four cam engine behind the cab. Its transmission is a DeTomaso Pantera ZF 5-speed transaxle and is located directly behind the engine. The truck’s body is an original Ford Model A cab and bed that is mated to a custom fabricated tube chassis. With the touch of a button, the entire truck body pivots up with hydraulics to reveal the engine, drivetrain, and chassis. Power disc brakes all around. Concourse paint and leather interior. Custom billet aluminum wheels. Top shelf craftsmanship. More than 3500 shop hours are invested in this truck.

The top of a mountain is an inhospitable place. The higher the peak, the less accommodating the climes. When the brothers of the Order of Carthusians purchased 7,000 acres at the top of Mount Equinox in Sandgate, Vermont, the men of peace were headed into war with nature—including the building of two hydroelectric dams to power their monastery, the Charterhouse of the Transfiguration. To subdue their new home, which opened in 1960, they would need not guns and bombs, but at least military-spec equipment to match the elements atop Vermont’s tallest mountain.

Luckily, previous attempts at investigating the hydroelectric potential of the Vermont wilderness meant the brothers had already visited the Dodge dealer in Greenfield, Massachusetts, where they ordered up the latest version of a one-ton, 4×4 truck Dodge had been producing nonstop since 1942: The Power Wagon. Originally created for the military during World War II, the Dodge Power Wagon was treated to glossy paint and civilian equipment after the war, but retained its no-nonsense, no-frills workhorse nature to an even greater extent than the Willys Civilian Jeep.

Consider that, by 1956, the Jeep already had softened its styling and introduced an overhead-valve engine. Dodge offered a “Power Wagon” to customers like that, based on its civilian trucks, but hadn’t compromised the original one bit—including the retention of a cab that debuted back in 1939. The essential differences of this military-style 1956 Power Wagon from its 1945 equivalent boiled down to the 12-volt electrical system (a late-year introduction not present on all ’56 models), additional gauges, some tweaks to the bed sheetmetal, and a New Process SM 420 four-speed manual transmission that was synchronized in its upper gears.

You would not have mistaken the brothers’ Power Wagon for a military model when it was new, however, as its original finish was Bermuda Coral—pink. That oh-so-‘50s hue would be a hoot to see on a Power Wagon today, but given that owner/restorer Gerald “Jerry” Mattison, of Glastonbury, Vermont, is a Vermont State Fire Warden, it’s easy to understand why he chose Pontchartrain Green, another 1956 Dodge color he had mixed up in Mason single-stage urethane and sprayed on one piece at a time by the obliging Bodywerks in Shaftsbury, Vermont. The green-and-black scheme perfectly complements Jerry’s mania for Forest Service collectibles, including a period axe, Pulaski and water pump he mounted to the truck, and a passion for the heritage of Smokey the Bear, USFS’s long-time mascot for forest-fire prevention.

“I spent countless hours sourcing the period-correct Smokey Bear image and USFS logos which were painted and installed by White Rocks Design, in Bennington, Vermont,” Jerry says. The color change was a relatively easy deviation to make since Jerry’s restoration of the truck was mostly cosmetic. Brother Michael, the young monk of 1956 who had been entrusted with operating the truck and who had used it for the next 53 years to haul hundreds of cords of firewood to keep his fellows warm, had been devoted to maintaining the mechanical systems of the truck. Initially, the original 94-hp, 230-cu.in. flathead six-cylinder engine, for example, wasn’t even rebuilt—just torn down and treated to new seals, though a bad cam subsequently called for a full rebuild to be performed by Vermont Engine Works in Williston, Vermont.

It was Michael who suggested to Jerry that he purchase the truck. “He said it would be nice if someone could give the truck a good home, then stared at me until I took the hint,” Jerry says. He was at the time mountain manager and business director for the Carthusians and was shocked at the retirement of what he called “an icon on the mountain.” Although he’d never before restored a vehicle, he nevertheless hauled it home and at least stored it until the mild winter of 2016 persuaded him to give it a shot. He had, at least, long admired the Power Wagon, attracted to “its stance and look; its simplicity and utilitarian style” and noting how its “mechanically strong engineering comes through no matter what vantage point.”

Even restoring “just” the cosmetic side was no small effort, however. Even though it had been garage-kept from 1956 to 2009, and rust was limited to one driver’s side cab mount, a half-century of hard work had resulted in a body that was faded chalky white and covered in dents and dings.

“The biggest hurdle was getting it all apart,” Jerry says, recalling the restoration efforts that started in 2016. “Being bolted together so many years, as you can imagine, it was all Sawzalls and hammers.”

A local bodyman welded in a new cab mount, and Jerry ordered up new bedsides and running boards from Tisdale Coachworks in Winslow, Indiana.

To complement the green paint and USFS graphics, Jerry has collected various period-correct Forest Service items to display with the truck at shows, including a canteen, backpack, portable telephone, and a vintage map of the service area he covers now as a Vermont Fire Warden.

To complement the green paint and USFS graphics, Jerry has collected various period-correct Forest Service items to display with the truck at shows, including a canteen, backpack, portable telephone, and a vintage map of the service area he covers now as a Vermont Fire Warden.

To complement the green paint and USFS graphics, Jerry has collected various period-correct Forest Service items to display with the truck at shows, including a canteen, backpack, portable telephone, and a vintage map of the service area he covers now as a Vermont Fire Warden.

To complement the green paint and USFS graphics, Jerry has collected various period-correct Forest Service items to display with the truck at shows, including a canteen, backpack, portable telephone, and a vintage map of the service area he covers now as a Vermont Fire Warden.

To complement the green paint and USFS graphics, Jerry has collected various period-correct Forest Service items to display with the truck at shows, including a canteen, backpack, portable telephone, and a vintage map of the service area he covers now as a Vermont Fire Warden.

While Power Wagons themselves are somewhat scarce due to the hard lives they often lived, and certainly in demand among the retro-oriented in today’s 4×4-centric marketplace, they remain rather easy to get parts for. In addition to Tisdale’s offerings, Jerry got items from DCM Classics in Zeeland, Michigan, and Vintage Power Wagons, in Fairfield, Iowa.

Today, the old Power Wagon lives an even more sedate life than it did in a monastery. Jerry takes it out for moderate cruises “a couple times a month” and adds about 1,500 miles to the odometer yearly. He’s only had it to three shows and says that the real pleasure he gets from it is “the smiles and stories it brings out in people of all walks.” Want a Power Wagon yourself? Then you may want to take Jerry’s advice.

“They are harder and harder to find, and becoming expensive. Save money, find the right one, and have patience.”

On this episode of IROC REHAB, presented by Edelbrock, our new drivetrain is prepped for install in our 1987 Chevrolet Camaro IROC-Z. After removing the original engine from the stock cradle, we degrease, and inspect it for imperfections before coating the cradle with POR-15 protective sealant. The original front accessory drive system is then removed and tested for proper fitment on our 380-hp Edelbrock-supplied crate motor.

Finally, it’s time to mate the engine to the American Powertrain Tremec TKX 5-speed transmission, install our new headers from Summit Racing, as well as the clutch master cylinder and pedal assembly. This is a great episode you’ll not want to miss!

Sources

American Powertrain • 931-646-4836 • americanpowertrain.com

Bendpak • 800-253-2363 • bendpak.com

Blacktop Yacht Club • blacktopyc.com

Classic Industries • 800-854-1280 • classicindustries.com

Covercraft • 800-274-7006 • covercraft.com

Edelbrock • 888-799-1135 • edelbrock.com

Griot’s Garage • 800-345-5789 • griotsgarage.com

Summit Racing • 800-230-3030 • summitracing.com

U.S. Radiator • 323-826-0965 • usradiator.com

Date: May 1974

Location: Richmond, Vermont

Source: Donald Wiedenmayer, via Vermont Landscape Change Program

What do you see here?

Pulling a distributor can be intimidating the first few times you do it. The distributor, after all, is where the delicate dance between spark and compression is choreographed. Put things back wrong and the engine may not run or may run so badly it’s at risk of damaging itself. Then, even if things are put back together more or less in the correct way, they still require fine tuning.

To get yourself as close as possible to the right starting point, pull out something virtually everyone has, a test lamp (12V or 6V, as appropriate to your car), and use it to find the exact moment your points make contact inside the distributor. Then, when you go to actually start the engine, you’ll already be within a degree or two of the proper static advance.

I recently had to do just that on my ’62 Corvair after combining the worn-out original distributor with a much nicer one salvaged from a 1965 110hp engine. It made getting the car re-started a snap.

The Problem

For quite some time, I’d noticed my car had diminishing power on hills. Because it wasn’t that great to start with, that was a real problem. Although I’d installed a new distributor cap, plug wires, and rotor some time ago, I figured it was time to replace the points and condenser. Yet, imagine my surprise when I discovered they were both nearly new! It was clearly a deeper problem.

I turned to one of the best Corvair resources I’ve found yet: How to Keep Your Corvair Alive! by Richard Finch. The late Mr. Finch was a devotee of the raced and daily driven Corvair and offered up his book as a supplement to the GM-supplied shop manuals (which I also own—I insist on owning a shop manual for all my cars, otherwise I feel I’m just groping in the dark when I work on them).

In his initial tune-up instructions (which, of course, I’d never really gotten around to following until now), Finch describes testing both the vacuum and centrifugal advance systems. One problem, I quickly discovered, was that rust had formed between the centrifugal-advance weights and the plate on which they slide inside the distributor. I pulled them, gave them a gentle cleaning with sandpaper, and then reassembled things—confident I’d be back on the road shortly now that my mechanical advance was working again.

Except when I went to give it the test, the distributor shaft no longer moved when I turned over the engine with a wrench. That was a new and unpleasant development. Down inside the engine, the roll pin that holds the distributor gear had sheared. Something I only discovered once I pulled the distributor to investigate why it no longer interfaced with the engine.

The Solution

Getting new roll pins off the generic-parts rack at the parts store is thankfully no problem. But when I got my old distributor cleaned up for repair, I noticed that the cam inside was really showing its mileage. I think it was probably run without lubrication for a long time. It occurred to me that I actually had a second distributor from a parts engine I’m slowly disassembling. To my delight, it was like new inside and still even wearing what may have been its original points, condenser, and dust shield.

I pulled the rusty, crusty vacuum advance unit off, replaced it with the unit from my original distributor, and swapped in the advance weights for good measure. Then I installed the Frankenstein distributor and went to set the initial timing using another of the Finch tricks: using a test light to know exactly when the points open and close.

Getting the Car Started

No project like this can begin without knowing for certain that the engine’s number-one cylinder is at top dead center (TDC) on its compression stroke. That’s the moment the spark is timed to and thus the zero-degree spot when we’re talking about advancing or retarding the spark. Because the spark cannot instantaneously burn all the fuel in the combustion chamber, we’re trying to light it off just far enough ahead of time that maximum explosive effect occurs just at the moment the piston can be pushed back down in the bore.

Spark the mixture too far ahead of time and the piston is pushing down on a crankshaft that can’t yet turn in the right direction. It beats up the innards of an engine, can blow holes in the top of pistons, and definitely doesn’t help move the car forward. Retarded spark is safer for the engine, but because the explosion is kind of chasing the piston down the bore, it leaves a lot of power on the table.

The main method for determining whether the engine is at TDC is to remove the spark plug (removing or loosening all the spark plugs will make the engine turn over a lot easier) and then to place a finger over the hole to feel compression building—showing that the valves are closed in that cylinder. If no compression builds, the piston is likely coming up on the exhaust stroke instead.

Some people “bump” the engine with the electric starter for this. I prefer to have the battery disconnected and to use a wrench. It seems safer and more precise.

Once you know the engine is on the compression stroke, you can use the timing-alignment marks on the engine to put the piston at the proper advanced moment—a value found in your shop manual. For a Powerglide-equipped ’62 like mine, I needed 13 degrees. This requires too much precision to do by bumping the starter. With the piston in the right spot, now you can twist the distributor so that the points are opening at just that moment.

This is where the test light comes in. It is connected to the negative lead on the ignition coil and to the engine ground. The ignition is then switched on at the key (careful not to bump the starter). If the light is on, the points are closed; advance the distributor just until it goes off. If the light is off, the points are open; retard the distributor just until it comes on.

And just like that, you’ve gotten the engine within a degree or two of proper timing without a timing light and without cranking it over, twisting the distributor at random until it starts firing. I put my timing light on the engine afterward and it was essentially spot on, though I ended up dialing in a bit more advance just because my engine seems to like it.

But Then…

The result was incredible. The car has never had this much power. Despite the extra advance, it doesn’t ping on hills (a friend has suggested that’s because I have stuck rings and thus no real compression) and it’s downright exciting to drive now.

Or it was, the two times I got to drive it. Then the starter bit the dust… Tune in next time!