John Simister
John finds out how useful the correct tool can be
John delights in having the right tool for the job at hand.
However skilled we think we might be at fixing old cars, there are times when those skills run out. Or, if not the skills, the repertoire of equipment that we have acquired over the years.
My plan was to replace most of the wishbone bushes – 16 out of the 22, the other six having been done by me a few years ago – on my 1989 Eunos Roadster. The banging and crashing over certain bumps had got just too much, and when I throttled off in a bend the tail always threatened to fly into oversteer even though it never actually did so.
New bushes, genuine Mazda items, came from the excellent Autolink. I had fitted polyurethane bushes to my previous MX-5 and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
Finding limitations
However, this is not a Saga. It’s a column about having the right tools for the job and recognising limitations. I found those limitations when I tried to undo the wishbone bolts that pass through the bushes. The rust had got there first, manifesting itself in various ways. Three of the bolts came out easily, but these were ones I had replaced in the past for various reasons and the cautionary Copaslip had done its job well. The long, industrialstrength bolts for the front upper wishbone pivots eventually yielded to my breaker bar, with only one socket cracked beyond repair in the process.
But the others? Several broke, the nuts shearing off under breaker-bar force, but they could be drifted out. One lower rear inner bolt, though, also with its nut end now snapped off, resisted all drifting. It had seized solid to its bush’s inner sleeve. And as for the lower outer bolts, a single long and hefty bolt on each side which passes through two bushes and the hub carrier between them, nothing showed any sign of loosening. The breaker bar’s pivot pin, or the bar itself, would surely break if I heaved any harder, and my electric impact wrench made no impression at all.
However, the fact I could feel a springy twist in the bolts showed that the problem lay where they passed through the hub carrier, part of which is open to the elements and a perfect water, and hence rust, trap. What to do? Hacksaw? I’d still be left with the remains of the bolt stuck in the carrier. Yet more penetrating oil? Tried that. Heat from a blowtorch? I’d melt the driveshaft boot and boil the wheel bearings.
Maybe it was time to reassemble the Mazda enough to get it to my ever-helpful local garage and call in the professionals. Lingard Motors of Berkhamsted had previously freed off one of the wishbone bolts after it had seized in its bush and snapped during attempted alignment adjustment, and replaced it with a new one. Maybe they could repeat the magic, put in the new bolts I had bought, then I could take the suspension apart back at home and replace the bushes. Long-winded, perhaps, but what else could I do?
Tooling up
The magic had involved an induction heater, a device that generates an intense magnetic field around any steel object it surrounds and makes it extremely hot. Induction hobs work on the same principle, too. But Tony Lingard had too much work on, keeping key workers mobile during COVID-19. ‘You can borrow the induction heater if you like,’ he said. ‘I’ll just show you how to use it.’
I love this garage, so generous with its equipment. So I went home with the Mini-ductor II, about £500-worth although you can buy cheaper versions that probably aren’t as good. It comes with a variety of elements, different sizes of coil at the end of two electrodes. The idea is that the coil surrounds the bolt head or whatever, without actually touching it, and you squeeze the switch in 15-second bursts allowing the machine to recover between times.
Soon, the bolt will be very hot, possibly even glowing red. The rust bond is broken and the bolt will finally respond to efforts to shift it. On the bottom of the hub carriers there is a convenient lug, so I heated that. All the bolts finally came out and the job suddenly became do-able by me, all thanks to this utterly brilliant, prayer-answering even, tool.
Thank you very much, Tony. You made the impossible, possible.
John Simister has been at the heart of British motoring journalism for more than 30 years. A classic enthusiast, he owns a Saab 96 and a Rover 2000 TC.