Running out of patience for the Dodge
Yet again, my relationship with the Dodge campervan, a vehicle which I swear is possessed by evil spirits, has deteriorated, and this time to the point of divorce. The van worked adequately for three weeks. That is to say it still ran like a pig, but it ran like a consistent pig and did not break down.
The bad running transcends the laws of physics. The engine, simple as a president, is a crude but tough 1980s Chrysler 360 V8 with a single four-barrel carb. The carb has an accelerator jet so that when you press the throttle, it squirts more fuel into the main barrels, and in theory the van smoothly accelerates. The jet system has been rebuilt, a couple of times in fact. Then a replacement carb was fitted, and that was rebuilt a couple of times as well. All the Clive-Sinclair-period electronics were crash- dieted, leaving one wire to the distributor, a backdate/upgrade to points and a condenser, and a functional vacuum advance, again checked numerous times.
An obscure cold-temperature bogging problem with icing inside the intake manifold was prophylactically dealt with by scraping carbon off a carb-warming duct. By leaving the now manually cable- operated choke on until the engine was properly hot and by feathering and squirting the accelerator jet, it was then possible to drive the thing reasonably smoothly.
Next, a peculiar noise came from the engine bay, and on checking everything I found that the coolant in the radiator was pink. Okay, we know what that is – the part of the radiator that cools the transmission fluid has split, and water and fluid are mixing. A new rad, flush the tranny a few times, job done.
Then in a rush of optimism I thought it was about time to try a trip of more than two miles from home. I had been reluctant to risk that up to now as I have had to walk home a few times, but the van’s no use unless it can be driven further than two miles. So after a few weeks of local trips, off to Burnaby I went for some fibreglass supplies, risking a 40-mile round trip. Suddenly, a mile short of my destination and at exactly the least convenient distance, there was a loud pop, strawberry milkshake was spraying out of the front of the van, and there was no drive from the gearbox.
It was another failed radiator, this time with projectile vomiting, and an enforced coast to the side of the road. It was boring, but essentially not a big deal: the Dodge has been thoroughly justifying my BCAA membership this year. Unfortunately, with the covid virus still showing no signs of going away and leaving us in peace, you can no longer ride in the tow truck that’s dangling your Dodge, so instead it was
a taxi ride home with social separation which also separated me from $45. The burst radiator was replaced under warranty, but rather than risk it happening again, I opted for a completely separate external tranny cooler in front of the main radiator.
Then for three treasured weeks on which I look back fondly, the Dodge successfully trundled to the shops and to the gas station, which it visits very regularly. Then it slowed down and started pulling to the right. The brakes have never been very sharp, and one of the calipers was obviously seizing. Not a big deal, I was planning on a brake overhaul anyway. It got me home, so yay! Maybe the evil spirits are being placated by the repeated sacrifices of money and the growing invoice pile.
Dodge van parts are usefully cheap here in BC, so even the one-ton calipers and pads are relative peanuts. The discs were the wrong ones, but the parts guys managed very well in achieving the right calipers and pads – that’s a 66% success rate, so they get a participation ribbon. The existing vented discs were actually unwarped and not too worn, so not changing them was fine.
Okay, we were now back on the road and it was time to try another run, just 20 miles this time – let’s not push our luck. I live on a promontory that sticks out into the Pacific with an excellent microclimate, and I drive through a tunnel to get to the mainland. A big black rainstorm brewed up after the tunnel, and then blat – the heavans opened and it was fast-wipers time. Except they chose that moment to pack up. The driver’s side worked although clattering, so I pulled off the highway, waited until the worst of it was over, and kept going using the remaining wiper intermittently to get to the foundry. I’m having an intercooler cast in the shape of a Villiers supercharger for the Bentley special I’m brewing up, and I was damned if this stupid van was going to stop me.
The previous wiper breakdown on this van was a seized wiper motor. This time it was crumbling old plastic bushes that clip into holes at the ends of the operating arms.
I had been thinking about keeping the Dodge permanently, throwing away the dodgy 360 and three-speed tranny and fitting a good Chevy 350, possibly even a newish aluminium LS V8 and a 700R4 GM transmission which has a fuel-saving 20% overdrive. I have a set of propane injectors and a tank, and if I changed to a post-1987 injected Chevrolet engine, I could use switchable propane which doubles the effective MPG because propane is half the price of petrol.
It’s also cleaner and doesn’t contaminate the engine oil with hydrocarbon crud.
However, I am coming to the end of my rope with this Dodge. I would have been charging off for a covid-safe hotel-and-restaurant-free cruise around the most gorgeous parts of BC in the van once the weather cooled a bit, but I simply wouldn’t trust it to achieve 50 miles, never mind 700. My Cherokee, also a Chrysler product, has been the best vehicle I’ve ever owned: utterly reliable over 12 years, unstoppable, indestructible, hugely useful and even quite fast. It seems that what they say about American Chrysler stuff is true – it’s either excellent or garbage. Okay, time for buffing, wax and a Craigslist ad, and then I’m putting the garbage out. Somebody else can have a try.
“I’m putting the garbage out. Somebody else can have a try”