Manifold depressions
Octane 200, I wrote that uneven firing on my ‘rat rod’ Studebaker’s straight-six had left me scratching my head about the cause. The car was street legal other than in the lighting department, so figured I’d replace the time-ravaged wiring and get indicators fitted (a waved arm has little significance to today’s road users!), then give it a run to see if the firing problem cleared itself.
If only things were so easy! The Stude was transported by trailer to Roy Pitter’s Rods and Restorations emporium in Four Marks, Hampshire, for the rewire. Roy had already fitted a new loom into my ‘Shoebox’ Ford, so I knew he’d get the job done quickly as the Stude has far less to wire.
A week later, the job was almost complete and I made a prelockdown visit to hear the beast running. I was aware that the exhaust manifold had a slight blow on starting that usually settled down as everything heated up and expanded, but this time it started with an explosive exhalation of gases far louder than before.
A hairline crack in the manifold was just visible at the source of the blow and, after an accusatory look from Roy and a sheepish grin from me, he suggested, quite correctly, that the manifold would have to come off and that there was no way that I would be able to undo the nuts at home without applying considerable heat. After prolonged efforts with the oxyacetylene torch, the nuts (presumably undisturbed since 1937) were off. That’s when the ensuing saga really began.
As we pulled the manifold away from the block, it collapsed into a pile of cast-iron scrap. The hairline crack extended all the way around along its underside. Little wonder that the car was not running properly. So I suddenly possessed a totally immobile Studebaker.
Dilemma. A manifold for a 1937 Studebaker is not exactly an off-the-shelf item in the UK. There were a couple on eBay in the USA at around $300 each but, as they weigh a lot, shipping was another $150 and that was before adding import duty and VAT. Doom and gloom had settled on me when relief arrived from the adjacent unit in the shape of Steve Miller, who has resurrected several of my Abarths and my Tatra T87.
‘No problem, I’ll make you one,’ was Steve’s immediate response when he saw the pile of junk on the floor. As it happens, a ‘header’ exhaust fitted in with my longer-term hot-rodding plans for the Stude, so we simply pushed it from one workshop to the next.
That was far from the end of its woes. I’ll tell you next time about the starter motor that shattered, how the windscreen wipers’ vacuum motor packed up, and the new sills and floorpan that are required. Old cars, eh?
‘A “header” exhaust fitted in with my longer-term hot-rodding plans for the Stude, so we simply pushed it from one workshop to the next’