Francine Part 1 — The Story Begins

It was the best of times, it was the wettest of times -- and mine shoes hath leaketh since the extraction of the duct tape. During Spring Break of 2003 Brad, Nick and I decided it was high time to look for some trouble. As we are not normal, it was concluded that the best place to look for trouble on this 2nd weekend of March was the Barlow Auction Center in Barlow, Oregon. Now, I am not implying that we are, or have ever been normal. That possibility was thrown through the window long before this incident, thus breaking it leaving us to pick up the pieces while others laughed incredulously as we used duct tape to repair the damage. But that series of events which proceeded that fateful week are ones that will be ever engraved in my mind (I thought my head hurt...)

Motivation

It all started weeks before Spring Break 2003. As I sat in my dorm room I chatted with Nick and Brad about the need of another beater vehicle. As you may recall, we acquired a Ford Tempo over the summer, leading to an ... interesting ... camping trip. Growing increasingly tired of the computer monitor, I decided it was time to embark on another such "beater adventure." Slowly, very slowly, Spring Break rolled around. I took the first opportunity to jet back to my hometown. Plans were made, and by that first weekend Nick, Brad and I headed to the auction house (yes, the same one the Tempo came from).

The Auction

This is where the trouble / fun begins. The day had started off appearing as if it could turn into a nice day. It didn't - the weather turned sour and the rain began to fall. Living in Oregon, this is hardly a new thing but the situation was complicated by my age old shoes. Having been used well past their feasible functionality, these shoes leaked like Microsoft code. Merely walking across a wet parking lot leads to a strikingly wet right foot. Puddles are out of the question, unless you want to use them as watersocks. Unfortunately, the lot where all the cars to be auctioned off looked like a graveled minefield, creating puddles deep enough to eat my foot off. But fear not! It's not that I am so poor I can not afford shoes that work as designed. It is, instead, that I left school and my dorm room in such a hurry, that I forgot the pair of shoes that I had worn for the past 6 months. In fact the leaky shoes hadn't been touched in months. I ended up with these because my normal shoes had been dirtied in a dash of "offroad" excitement. Anyway, this "feature" of my shoes was remedied for a few hours by green duct tape, but later fell off. It's amazing how much a wet foot or two can create grumpiness and discomfort.

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Well, that was the horribly boring saga of the leaky shoes (I got decent ones the next day at Costco for $10! Ok, I promise, no more about the shoes) Now on to the important part of the story - the auction! Before even leaving, Nick had his heart (or wallet) set on a Subaru wagon. The one thing that gave it the thumbs up was the fact that it was a manual transmission. It had long since been agreed that the next beater would be stick shift, increasing fun, breakable parts, and the learning experience for Brad. Several other cars in the minefield caught our attention, but not as much (in terms of actually buying.) After being told I can't climb on cars to avoid puddles; after being yelled at not to open the hoods of the cars (why?? I don't know!); and after revving a '91 Supra Turbo and entertaining myself with the whirry sound of the turbo charger we ran out of time and the auctions began. To make a long, boring story short, the Subaru went for more than we deemed it worth (over $150 ) As the day wore on, we began to be confronted with the reality that we may not come home with a beloved beater this time.

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And then she strolls in. Ok, fine, we hardly noticed its presence. Rolling through was an '81 Toyota pickup, complete with a bashed in bed and extra paint in random places on the body. I have to be fair - Nick did ask if he should bid on it. Wanting something to bash, I said "....sure!" About 2 minutes later, Nick returned with a funny look on his face, and said that he had just bought the truck for $100. I laughed, Brad made some funny sounds, and we all went to go pay for the thing. Since there were about 1.2billion (give or take 1.19995 billion) people waiting in line to pay for their newly won prizes, we had to wait. Darn. So standing in the lobby, we immaturely punched at each other and made a general ruckus.

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After 15 minutes or so, I interjected with the thought that our new truck should have a name. In about 1 1/2 seconds Nick blurted "Francine!"... and it stuck.

The Verdict

Once we ('we' being Nick) finally paid for the wondrous new truck 'Francine,' we headed out to the lot to see what we had done. Oh and it was bad. At a first glance, the truck looked, pardon my French, like a piece of crap. Upon further inspection, it was unanimously agreed that it was a piece of crap.

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Despite the fact that the truck looked more appalling than a pile of vomit, it ran. In fact, it even has the same motor as my '87 Toyota truck, but no one cares. What this means in a nutshell is that the truck is gutless, but will run forever.

'Features' of Francine:

• Bed is bashed in behind the passenger's door
• Front right fender is smashed in, rubbing on tire if you turn too hard
• An obscenely large amount of paint and/or sheetrock material splattered all over the vehicle (highly concentrated on the outside of the passenger's side of the bed)
• Driver's door initially would not close, then would not open (so crawling in the passenger's side, or the window was in order)
  
  

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• More oil on the outside of the engine than in the entire Middle East
• 'Black Widow' spider in the passenger's side heating vent (probably a lie.)
• Rancid, oozing sludge in the bed all on top of a carpeted mess
• Keyed ignition removed, allowing for a 'one-twist' screwdriver start!
• Conveniently, the passenger's door has no locking mechanism (or it fell inside the door somewhere) so you can't lock yourself out, which is definitely good, considering we never got a key.
• Non-functional speedometer and odometer - but the tach works great!

Francine Part 2 — Meet the Parents

After a brief scuffle over who 'got' to drive the new vehicle home, we decided to make Nick do it, since he was the one who paid for it (initially) and to keep my butt out of trouble. To everyone's astonishment, we made the trip home without a hitch (...literally). In fact, we estimated that the brown-mutton-mobile hit 80mph!

Speeding on a public freeway with an unlicensed, uninsured, and questionably street legal, and just plain hideous vehicle is generally not encouraged, but we had to try, right?

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Meet the Parents

Later that afternoon, our families got the pleasure of meeting the new truck. Accompanied by the persistent laughing was the itching question of 'Why??' Having done our damage for the day, we all went home, or played games over at Nick's house, or something.

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The Dancing Incident

The next day we decided to check prices for spraypaint to brighten up Francine's image. So we headed to the local GI Joe's and stared at the shelves until someone noticed us. Some guy tried to help us until he realized that we had no intention of using a spray-gun or any sort of decent paint job. On the way back to Nick's house I was flipping through the radio stations, trying to find something of interest. I came across the ending of the song 'Teenage Wasteland' (Baba O'Riley) by The Who. Stopped at a traffic light, I ... moved ... to the music on the radio while Nick and Brad tried to ignore me as the three of us sat in two seats. Some teenagers with their thumping music rolled up next to us. Yeah, they stared. After a good 45 seconds - 1 minute of this, the light finally turned green and the cars started to move. Well, as soon as they could, the teenagers in the Explorer high-tailed it out of there and gave us (me) the finger. Ah, well. Having completed my immature act for the day we went home.

Francine Part 3 — Let's Go Camping!

Let's Go Camping!

Having bought our beater, we deemed it necessary to take it for a little spin in the woods. So as Monday rolled around we got all of our camping necessities. But Francine wasn't ready yet. Somehow it ran fine all the way to Brad's driveway, but then, 10 minutes later, wouldn't start. After much pushing and clutch popping, we found out the battery had a bad connection. We played with it for a little bit and then we were off! We headed toward Detroit Lake.

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The weather that day had started out to be decent, but as night fell, so did the rain. Finally we found a place to stay. It was campground that was not used at this time of the year — that means it was free! So in the wet and cold, we attempted to set up Brad's hugely gigantic tent. It took way too long but we eventually got it up. Meanwhile Nick tried his best to make a fire in the pouring down rain to get us warmed up.

We charred some hot dogs or something and then slipped into our wet selfs into our sleeping bags. The next day we woke up (it happens) and then plotted what the day would hold. After doing normal camping things — which coincidentally does not encompass ingesting flammable, rotten liquids (aka alcohol) — we decided it was time to take Francine for a spin ... literally.

Spin, spin, spin!

We found a little graveled opening that was about 3/4 mile off the main road. Here we let Francine loose! After all the rain there was substantial mud and muddles (even for gravel) so we 'tested' them by driving through them. Needless to say, the ride was anything but 'smooth.' But this only made things more fun :-)

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During the 20-25 minutes of playing in the gravel pit, we burned almost twice as much gas as we did on the 50mile drive to the camp site. But it was fun!

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The Inevitable "Whoops"

Now, at this point, it would be nice to think that we stopped for the day, having done our damage to the environment — but instead we continued. Before long Nick decided to try scale a large (10-15ft high) pile of gravel.

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Against all odds, Francine would not climb the hill. Instead, she sputtered, idling at a ridiculously low rpm (like under 150rpm) until she died. Somehow, Nick's uphill adventure killed the engine and made it refuse to even turn it over. Probably that darn battery again, or we think the alternator may be for the birds... So anyway, Nick tried fruitlessly to at least get some spark in the cylinders, but to no avail.

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What's next? Push it down a hill! For once, we made the right decision. Since this truck has a manual tranny, we just roll it down the hill, pop the clutch and there she goes!

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Moments later (with Nick in the driver's seat) the wondrous flatulencesque exhaust sound came from bottom of the hill - she runs! Yeah!

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At this point it was pretty much agreed that we should no longer take our chances for that day. So after burning 1/2 tank of gas, killing and reviving the truck, leaking some oil, and shoving the truck downhill — all within a few-hundred yard radius — we returned to camp.

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The rest of the day was probably uneventful, cold, wet, and generally miserable. Thankfully, this trip was much more fun in hindsight. We beat each other with 'lightsabers' and went home the next day when we awoke to a few inches of snow. Brr!!

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Francine Part 4 — Damage Assessment

Time to assess the damage

After being chilled to the bone and soaking wet for two and a half days, we decided to high-tail it back home. A day or so later, I went over to Nick's and we got to work, ripping all of the junk out of the bed of Francine.

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Paint, goo, and more!

Now it was time to get to work. We felt we had to rip out all of the old carpeted junk that was permeating the bed. So with a monkey wrench and about 40 minutes of work, we got it cleared out. To make things more exciting, the paint, mold, and carpet residue stunk badly and was slippery.

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That pretty much wraps up the Francine story as of Spring Break 2003. I had to leave the next day to go back to school, or something like that... yeah. But much more fun and mess came next. Click here to read more about Francine's adventure.

Francine Part 5 — Beautifying and Bashing

A few months passed, and finally school came to a halt. Nick and I basked in our unemployment while Brad freaked out about not having any money. Amidst the envisioning of Suriboka's destiny, we played around with Francine. Strangely, it seems that the crappier this truck looks, the better it runs. Nevertheless, we continued to try to make this little Toyota look better than when we got it. Unbeknownst to me, Brad and Nick bought some seat covers for Francine from a scapyard. It helps immeasurably to ease the pain of sitting on the seats, and even masks the fear of being attacked by black widows.

Next Francine was attacked with an angle grinder. The majority of the junk splattered on the side of the bed was obliterated. It was later (who knows how much later) blasted with a wave of magically red-brown primer.

Eventually we started to get in another one of our 'basher' moods, and Francine was the designated victim. A few spins in the field raised our spirits. Thanks to a little rubber gripping, the field was transformed from grass to dirt in a relatively short time. Naturally, we were able to achieve ruts in the ground too!

A few weeks passed and one day we decided to take off the front fenders to pound them out a little. However, tools were limited to shoes, a hammer, and nothing in between, so results were unimpressive, to say the least. But on the bright side, they make a great hide-away!

One day, we decided we needed to back Francine out of her old parking spot (between a tree and some bushes). Brad hopped in to do the honors of driving the beloved beast. At this point however, the deformed fenders were still lying on the ground, behind the truck. After asking if it 'was clear' to back up, Justin, Nick's step brother shouted a confirming 'Yes!' and back she went... Make no mistake - if Francine's fenders were not bent out of shape prior to this incident, they definitely were now. After everyone took their turn to laugh and yell condescending remarks at Justin, we continued on with the intended activities, which I believe were to pull Suriboka's carcass into the back yard.

One day toward the end of summer, Nick and I (Courtney) got this great idea - change Francine's oil. We had owned this 'vehicle' for over 6 months and never even changed the oil. After accidentally seeping a good quart of two of oil on the ground, instead of in the container, we got her all fixed up. We also popped in a new air filter, as the old one looked like it was used to mop up the oil on someone's garage floor. (Actually, I don't think it looked too bad, but there are no fun analogies to make from that) I then had the excellent idea to actually reattach the exhaust manifold to the exhaust pipes. This, I hoped, would make her run quieter and more smoothly. This, however, was tragic mistake. I hopped in the little mutton-chaser and cranked her over... and over and over and over. Gas... crank, crank, crank -- No luck. Francine just wouldn't start! I yelled and screamed, and probably headbutted the steering wheel, but she still would not start. Nick tried it too, but with no luck. After a long time, she finally started, but required about 1/4 throttle just to stay running. With these symptoms, Francine limped out to the field in the back of Nick's house.

After a few quick spins (and a few sputting deaths of the engine), Nick managed to magically convince Francine to keep an idle! Yay! We rejoiced and continued to bash the truck as we played in the field. And then the symptoms returned. This routine happened three or four times before we finally called it quits. It seems, for some very odd reason, that flooring it 3rd gear, and successfully spinning the tires to get a good rev out of the engine fixes Francine's desire for a sputtering death. All we can say is "...cool!"

After this, school was nearing again, and Francine had to be put aside to do things which are far less entertaining, like finding the derivative of (PI^32 * (2x^2/x cos x) ) / (tan^2x x * 19x^3)

Francine Part 6 — More Cleaning, Beating, and Bashing

Come summer of 2005, Nick and I decided to bring ol' Francine back to life. Her image had become slightly marred after sitting in the field unused for over a year. Not the least of which was the fact the the goat bashed most of the body panels with his horns. More importantly though, the fuel pump needed replaced because it was leaking badly.

Step 1 of this little adventure was to get out the sledge hammer and bang on the few remaining body panels. It proved to be all but completely useless, so the next day we decided to dig the truck out of the hole it was in.

The llama says, "Hey, where's my feeding troph going!?"

Because Francine was stuck pretty good, we replaced the fuel pump. It was easy as cheese, except for the fact that we broke a little metal spacer. It took a some looking to find a replacement spacer.

Good old mechanical fuel pump found under the hood.

After the new fuel pump was on, Francine started right up! Amazingly, that truck runs just as good as the day it was parked in the mud. With that issue solved, we decided to get her unstuck. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done. The rear passenger-side tire wasn't on the rim anymore and the front one was rather flat. After some jacking, jumping, kicking, and pumping we were able to get air in the rear tire.

Francine started up with little more than a jump-start, but she was still stuck!

Well, once Francine was finally out of the muddy hole she was in, we took her for spin in the yard. After a few minutes of playing, we parked the trusty truck in the battle-ready stance for tomorrow's adventures.

Francine strikes a pose on the goat hill.

The next day we realized just how incredibly stinky the bed of the truck was. Thanks to a certain someone who won't be mentioned, the truck had been used as a really big hay feeding troph. After a few weeks of this treatment, it started to become slimey underneath.

It smelled a lot worse than it looks.

Finally, we added some radiator stop-leak because there were some pinhole leaks up at the top of the radiator.

Magic-dust

Sooooooooo, Nick had this really great idea to try and drive Francine over to the other side of the field where there was more room. The only problem was the 30 foot strip of mud in the way. Before I could protest, we were in the middle of it and then ... stuck!

Heheh, woopsey...

Nick and I got the chain and come-along out. About 2 and a half hours later, we were back on dry ground.

Yo, yo, punkadillydiaperfoo.

It was pretty dark by the time we had finished winching the truck out, but the next day, we made some good sized ruts in the field.

Play time

Unfortunately, our battery cables were getting knocked loose all the time. Beating them with a hammer only helped to make look like mashed potatoes... or mashed metal, at least. Cody and I replaced the negative terminal with one we found under Suri.

Our great battery terminals

Nick got crazy with the driving again, so we got high-centered on a pile of dirt. It took a 4-wheeler and some pushing to get it off, but it was all in good fun.

Stuck again

We quickly got distracted with our Suriboka adventure, so Francine once again was left alone in the field, so very alone... What happens next? Only time and Toyotean fate can tell!

The Tempo Story Returns!

I know the masses have been yearning for it, and as such, the Tempo story returns! Ok, I know: nobody actually cares. However, it is a piece of Randomland history, and has therefore been restored. The formatting is still a little rough, but it's coming along. The story is at least back in its original state! I changed a few of the pictures and fixed a few typos, but nothing major at all. I sure was a rice-hater back then... I still am, but I think most of it revolved around "stupid driver hating," and I still have plenty of that. Anyway, read it.

The Tempo Story — Nick's Version

Once upon a time there was a guy named Nick. He had friends named Courtney, Steve and Brad. One day Nick and Courtney went to a car auction in a magical place called Barlow, at this place wonderful things happened... So doth start A Tempo Story. Do you ever wake up and say to your self; I'm going to buy a $75 piece junk car to try yanking apart to see if it will still work when I'm done? NO! Of course not, and nether do I. But that didn't stop me. Regardless of what they say, a tempo is not junk. They are good reliable cars... yup. Buying a car is not a wishy washy decision, well with most people. I bought the car during a hype that Courtney had gotten me into about getting a car to "thrash" in the woods. So I said to Richard (My step dad) rather passingly "$75" the price went higher, to $110 but suddenly fell back down to $75. Someone must have realized what they where biding on and said "Wooo no, not me, I aint biding on that". Lucky me.

The Tale of the '89 Ford Tempo — Part 1

It all started on a fateful day, in August of 2002. Nick's family and I went to the Barlow Auction house, in Barlow, Oregon to see what cars were being auctioned off. Most certainly, I did not think that I would be driving home in a (drum-roll, please) 1989 Ford Tempo! The auction garage was filled with a choking cloud of burnt-oil, catalytic'ed to death, 1980's 4 cylinder, ugly car exhaust. And as that hideous Ford rolled into the room, Nick, half-jokingly said to Richard (who was bidding): "$75!" Nick's stepdad, Richard, gave him a look as to say, "Are you stupid?" But he bid anyways. The auctioneer babbled off numbers and a few other poor souls bid on the maroon beast. The $75 mark got passed and we thought the bidding was over. $90 or something. But apparently the bidder who won the bid didn't realize he was bidding (probably slapping at his son, or something) and contested that fact. So the bid went the the previous bidder -- you guessed it: US! So, such is life. We ended up with an '89 Ford Tempo (fuel injected 2.3L 4-cylinder) with bleached, spider-webbing maroon paint and stinky-moldy seats. All things considered, the car was in more than decent condition for the $85 paid for it ($75 bid + $10 auction house tax). Nick's girlfriend, however, was less than thrilled to find that Nick bought that ... thing. Well, after a week or so, Nick decided to attack the interior of the Tempo with a rag and some Armor-All. I wasn't around, but I can tell that all the plastic is much shinier!

That is what our beast looked like prior to the "Camping Incident..."

During Labor Day weekend, I went camping with Nick's family. Nick was very confident and adamant about taking the ugly $75 junker. We had even, said, I hate to admit it, that we should buy a car, take it up to the woods, and TRASH it! Sounds fun, but this car ran a little too well to constitute such violence (though little money would be wasted, resale could be a possibility...) After a couple of hours of gravel, the rear, driver-side brake started acting up. For the remainder of the trip, the brake was dragging. Every once in a while, it would lock up and make a big rut in the gravel, while we were traveling 30 mph...

The road was very rough, with large potholes and big rocks. Somehow, the Tempo survived but ended up with a brake that spasticly locks up and some ... "visible" ... undercarriage damage, including the lack of a muffler. It fell off going up a gravel hill.

Well, that's the majority of the pain caused to the poor Ford during that trip. This is a picture of the maroon thing after we got home.

Ok, so on Tuesday, Sept. 3rd, Nick, Steve, and I went to a junkyard nearby that had an '80-something Ford Tempo. We had them fling it up in the air with a fork-lift. We did a very uneducated, un-thorough job of examining the exhaust pipes, and had it set back down. We then got to work removing the pipes from the car. Fortunately for us, someone had already done most of the work by cutting the exhaust pipes at the catalytic converter. So all that was holding the pipes to the car was 3 rubber figure 8's. Being violent, unwitting, and bored, we took a pocket knife and slit the poor little rubber pieces that held it to the undercarriage of the ugly car. When all was said and done (paid $15, broke in a few shattered windows, and kicked a bumper or two) we had ourselves a surprisingly good looking set of exhaust pipes and muffler. By the way they looked, the system must have been recently replaced, before the car was junked.

Yeah, that's me attacking Nick (behind camera) with the new muffler system...

So anyways, I threw it in the back of my little Toyota and hauled it back to Nick's house.

The clearance under that car is putrid. This fact well established, we nailed some boards together (2x8 and an 8x8) and drove up on them. Once there, we much more carefully removed the rusty-crapped-out muffler pipes from the car (NOT cutting the rubber hangers). We had to use the Sawzall to cut the straight pipes from the cat. That made it much easier to get the rest loose.

At this point, the car still had a sizeable exhaust leak... OK. The exhaust manifold was SPLIT into two separate pieces. So we decided for the sake of less tickets, and less exhaust breathed, and better resale, we'd fix the little error. (The car was very loud). So on Thursday, the 5th, we found ourselves another junkyard that had another Tempo with the same engine in it. We found it in a '90 Tempo. Same EFI engine. So we decided that it was time for destructo!! We started unbolting the EFI intake manifold and unhooking, snipping, jabbing, or cutting any wires and sensors that were in the way (or looked like fun). We got a late start that day so we had to leave and come back. We came back on that Saturday but to our dismay, someone had slammed the car hood closed. Now normally, this is not an undesirable act, but when the hood-opening lever inside the car has been swiped and cut, it makes things a little more difficult. So long story short: broke front grill, broke more plastic and jammed hand under car hood and opened. Unbolted random things, unbolted the bottom half of the intake manifold and started to take off the exhaust manifold. Cut some gas lines and some really nasty oil line or something that had been rotting for months and dripped on me (smelled awful). Cut more things, used WD-40, undid bolts and pulled the piece out. Not all things happened in that order exactly, but close enough. I was bored, so my younger brother and I decided to take a little lesson in Engine Disassembly 101. We found an old 80's "Mustang" and ripped off the valve cover, peered at the lifters and made funny noises. We then took out some rods connecting to the cam, I presume. Then, when we were bored with that, we unbolted the whole shabang (head) and looked into the 4 little holes we affectionately refer to as cylinders. After all that unnecessary knuckle banging (the head was on real tight), we set the cover back on and left. Curiosity satisfied (we'd never decapitated an engine before), we left with a one-piece exhaust manifold, a little power door-lock relay, a brake shoe and some spring which I forget the purpose of.

On Sunday afternoon, I went over to Nick's house and we decided to attach the catalytic converter (already dangling) to the new pipes. Of course, we relized it would be MUCH easier if the whole thing wasn't attached to the bottom of the car. So we proceeded to take off the exhaust pipe and muffler we hung a few days earlier. (Give us a break, first time doing this sort of thing After much searching, we found a solution for getting the two cut pieces of pipe back together. We got a piece of muffler pipe (2" coupler) and big, honkin' clamps from Schucks. We used the Sawzall to make clean cuts on the old pipes and stuck them together and clamped them until the pipe started crumpling like paper! Then we put them back on the car.

The pipe on the left leads straight to the cat, the pipe on the right twists through flow-restricting bends and through the muffler. You can see how much nicer the new pipes are that we pulled off the car from the junkyard. As can be expected, our measurements were less than perfect, so the pipe is an inch or two shorter than it is supposed to be, but it should all work out as soon as we get the new exhaust manifold in. That was the next project.

The Tale of the '89 Ford Tempo — Part 2

Well, at this point the car has been in our possession for a little over a month and has been admirably abused. On the 18th of September, we decided to go ahead and get that old exhaust manifold off that car!

The week before we had gone to the junkyard and gotten a decent looking (by 'decent', I mean in no more than one, easily identifiable piece) manifold. For those that know me, I shouldn't have to reiterate the fact that many other things came apart that day which had nothing to do with that exhaust manifold. So in the end we ended up with this thing in the trunk of a couple of cars: (not at one time... hmmm?)

Someone decided to stick their arm in the photo too, Nick... hm-hmm!

Anyways, that hunk of metal does much more good attached to the engine than sitting in the trunk, so we decided it was time to do it! Yeah!

So we looked in the Haynes's how-to manual and disconnected to battery like good boys. Of course step 2 referred us to another section which required the battery to be plugged in, so we yelled some obscenities at the foliage continued. What we had to do was get the gas out of the fuel system before ripping apart the intake, which is required to get to the exhaust! (stupid car!!!) So in the trunk there is this nifty (translation: absolutely idiotic) fuel pump shut off switch. And at that point (get this) you are supposed to literally run the car out of gas. So we banged the switch and cranked the car until it wouldn't even moan at you anymore. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Yippy skippy, now we can proceed to NOT fry ourselves.

Just to clear my name, I do not support any battery called 'Econo-Power' or 'Econo' anything for that matter!!! That is a must fix...

So then we had to take off the ugly fuel-injected intake rails so we could get to the exhaust manifolds bolts that were cleverly hidden. We followed to book for a while until it made no sense. At that point we just ripped of every little sensor or bolt that held the darn thing on.

There it is sitting all pretty where it doesn't go.

But the Blue Oval had something special in mind for us (we found this out at the junkyard) -- the intake has a top and a bottom piece. So we were only a third of the way there.

We could finally get to the exhaust manifold bolts (rustier ones ) and could pull the manifold out from underneath. Thanks to the compact car design, we got to take off the bottom half of the intake as well -- oh, joy! This involved removing the fuel injectors from the block, as well. But finally, the whole tamale pulled out.

Of course we learned quickly why our car had been so loud -- the exhaust manifold didn't have a hole in it. Oh, no, much worse! It was split completely in two and the two pieces were hanging about 3 inches apart from each other. ("I don't hear an exhaust leak...")

While removing the exhaust manifold, we found a cold air pipe that had wiggled loose over time. It had been taped up once, but that did not do it justice. We think that the constant temperature change with no air to cool it caused it to break right in half. The shiny metal in the picture is where the cold-air hose connects.

So we bolted the new manifold onto the block and our little squiggly pipe that leads to the muffler system. Casualties - 0.0

This is from under the car. This piece runs down to the exhaust pipes hung under the car. There is the new exhaust manifold from the top. You can also see two of the fuel injectors sitting out getting covered with dirt and grime. (We probably broke some law-of-fuel-injectedness by not cleaning and covering them up while working)

Now we proceeded to put the bottom half of the intake manifold back on the car. Nick would like you to know that he hurt himself doing this. Other than that, it was pretty simple -- just dropped in the manifold and hunkered down on the bolts.

Tada! Back on. That part, at least.

By this point the gasket that connects the top half of the intake to the bottom half of the intake was broken into at least 4 pieces. We tried numerous times to piece it together but it was not cooperating at all. So we decided to call it a night, threw stuff in the engine compartment, burned stuff, then I went home.

Yeah, there are supposed to be 4 intake ports on that gasket...

Two days later, we met again. This time to connect the intake and all those wretched, but all too important, sensors. I came over (to Nick's house) around 4:30 and we started to put things together. Nick had gotten the new gasket for the intake earlier that day so we got to work bolting on the top section of the intake after positioning the new gasket. Considering the unfathomable extent of our vast mechanical knowledge, the rest of the operation went off without incident. However, we did have a little trouble finding out exactly how an insignificant metal brace fit in... so we chucked it.

It was intended to brace the upper part of the intake to the lower part... must be insignificant... RIGHT??? Hmm... well, if the car starts making crunching sounds because we sucked squirrels down the intake manifold, we will know what caused it. I think this is Nick fiddling with that brace to get it in place. It didn't happen.

So anyways, at about that point we decided it was an excellent time to indulge in some caffeinated beverages, so we (looking like we swam through a garbage dump) went inside and mixed some pop with the magic carbonator machine. Anyways, I left and went out to dinner with my family or something like that. By the time I came back, car was all tidied up, oxygen sensors and all!

All together!!! Yipee!

So, once it is together, the natural reaction is to want to start the car. Well, despite our oddities, we possessed this same desire. So Nick hopped in, and turned the key and .... NOTHING! Mr. "EconoPower" battery doesn't hold a charge worth beans, so we stole the battery out of another car (the Audi), and it started right up! The car was remarkably quiet as it idled. Heck, it was quiet when I revved it a "little." Somehow the quiet made the obnoxious ugly car into a quiet puke bucket from the 80's. Nevertheless, we had accomplished our mission. We were also proud of ourselves that the car went back together with minimal extra parts! Unfortunately, our hopes of a perfect Ford Tempo were dashed when we discovered a cloud of smoke that billowed from the engine compartment as it ran. Not surprisingly, the smell was quite nauseating.

The light spot is the cloud of stinky smoke (ick!).

Being cautious and astute, I pointed out this unwanted gaseous emissions to Nick. After a little investigating, by sticking our heads in random places in the engine compartment, Nick found out that smoke was coming from the new exhaust manifold. We decided to let it burn off. Since it stunk, we watered ourselves again with carbonated beverages. We kind of got sidetracked and the car ended up idling for about 15 minutes in the back lawn. Anyways, when we went to go check on the car, we noticed that the engine temperature was... a little hot.

This Ford Tempo is one Hot Car! (yo)

With the coolant temperature red hot, we turned off the car immediately. (We're not THAT dumb) With the assistance of a work lamp, we found a puddle of antifreeze under the car. (Note: if you are environmentally conscience and would like to sue us for dripping harmful fluids into the ground, please send all hate mail, mail bombs, or anthrax to '1234 Bob Barker Ave. Schirongi, Taiwan)

As some might say: "Ooops"

I should mention that Nick noticed a slight drip from the radiator earlier. He looked at it and saw antifreeze dripping from a part in the radiator which was smashed up. Of course, we did nothing about it at that time. With this discovery, we decided to call it a night.

Nick looking a little worried (maybe just for fun) and Steve, in the background, trying to act like a gangster. ("gangsta' yo")

The car could not be run like this, so the next step was to replace the radiator.

The Tale of the '89 Ford Tempo — Part 3

At this point, we got the new exhaust manifold and pipes on the car. It ran very quietly compared to it's previous loud, flatulence-like gurgle. But the car had a leaky radiator so it was time to fix that!

So on Saturday, September 21st, 2002, I met Nick over at his house, did some dilly-daddling no doubt, and got to work on taking out the radiator. My brother decided to come with me to help out -- that's an important part of the story, so don't forget!

Here is a picture of the damaged radiator while still in the car.

Exciting huh? So we unscrewed some caps and pulled on some nearby hoses. When we got smart enough, we pulled the main hose and drained all of the fluid into a bucket (except for a little spillage at first) With that done, we could get it out of the car finally! So we started unbolting things. First, the electric fan had to come off along with all of the plastic guards. (I'm not referring to Army-Men) Next we unbolted the radiator from the car. Then we pulled and realized that there were transmission lines attached to it still. -- This is where the story gets interesting -- The transmission lines run from the left side of the radiator to the transmission. There was also a second line for the air conditioning. Nick got underneath the car and started to pry apart the lines. It didn't go so well. A small hose which connected two metal pipes was on very, very tight. We took a knife to the end but didn't cut enough off. Just more problems. The hose started to fray on the ends. More pulling, no budging. Frustrated, Nick stepped away for a minute. Now, my helpful younger brother decided to take a wrench to the end of the transmission lines that connects to the radiator. They were on very tight but eventually moved. But they didn't move the way we wanted them to. No, instead, with the radiator still in place, the transmission lines twisted and kinked. The line was now bent horribly out of shape and very weak.

Oops, way to go, Cody

Anyways, to make an ever longer story short: we ripped apart that line, dripped red goo, which we didn't know was supposed to be transmission fluid although it looked a lot like transmission fluid. As soon as that happened Nick said "oops" and then said he didn't want to cut that line after all. He then went about getting apart the other line, which was much, much, much easier. Then he decided that the line he cut that he said he didn't want to cut was supposed to get cut. After being confused, as I'm sure you are now, we finally were able to pull the whole thing out. YEAH!

Finally! You can only somewhat see the damage at the top about 1/3 of the way to the right. By looks, the damage looked minimal. However, that spot dripped a lot of fluid!

At this point, we decided to head to the junkyard and pick up a used radiator that had been deemed usable. We also picked Steve, so he could help us break stuff. We dropped by 'U-Pull It' and they handed us a radiator from a '90 Ford Tempo. At this point, we decided we needed to get those darn metal transmission lines off, because they didn't come with the new radiator. Much to our dismay, we had no problems once we used TWO wrenches. AHH! Anyways, we threw money at the people and took the 'new' radiator away. The funny this is that old radiator looked quite new and shiny. The only problem was that there were two gashes in it which leaked like Niagara Falls. The 'new' radiator looked very dirty, a little rusty, and slightly dented. But it doesn't leak ewy-goo, so we are happy with it.

This is the 'new' radiator before it went in the Tempo. It came off of a '90 Tempo.

With that, we decided it would be a good idea to put it in the car. We proceeded to connect those pesky transmission lines. Now, if you will recall, my brother badly bent the transmission line. Unfortunately, when we connected it to the new radiator, the metal pipe bent over and cracked! Ooops.

A picture right after the transmission line was bent and cracked. It is the one on the right, see it???

Being resourceful, we grabbed the JB-Weld Nick bought a few days earlier. It is basically two liquids that, when mixed, are supposed to create a hard substance. So we mixed up our magical JB potion and applied it to the crack in the bent pipe.

Stir, stir, stir! Applying the goop.

At that point, I had to leave. I went to church and then out to dinner with my family and eat some great Mexican food at Ixtapa. As far as I know, the rest of the process went along as planned. Nick and Steve, without my supervision, probably burned some important body parts, but I can not be sure.

The next day, I went over Nick's house and everything was all hooked up! It did, however, lack a necessary ingredient -- antifreeze/water. So we added the fluid, moved a truck or two, and then started the Tempo up. It should be noted that the 'EconoPower' battery still was not able to start on it's own power. It had to be jumped. Stupid Econo-mono-bono-flongo!!!!! (sorry) Now we hit the road (not literally).

On the road! And the car is quiet!

After driving the back-road equivalent of about 4 blocks, the transmission was starting to slip. We decided to hop out and see how things were running. (Since we are bright young men, we decided to do this check in the middle of the road.) As I started to walk around to the front of the car, I noticed a very large amount of liquid streaming down from the front of the car and pooling under the bumper. The liquid was red and seemed an AWEFUL lot like transmission fluid.

We iz much smart 2 park at middle uv thu road "The puddle"

Although the picture makes it look like a crime scene, the fact is that we were losing an enormous amount of transmission fluid. We popped the hood and quickly realized that our trusty JB-Weld did not do it's job in sealing to the pipe. Nick checked the transmission fluid level -- it was off the dipstick. With this, Nick shut off the car and we started to walk back to his house to get a bottle of tranny fluid -- enough to get us back. On the walk back, we saw that we had been leaking almost since the moment we left the house.

Nick proudly displaying our biohazard trail

We picked up the only bottle of tranny fluid left in the house and I drove my truck back to the Tempo. After attempting to add it without a funnel and failing, I drove back and got our big funnel. We added it in and then went back as quick as the ugly red thing would go (without breaking anything else)

Run Tempo, run!

And so ends my involvement in the saga of the Ford Tempo. Within the next day or two, Nick replaced the problematic transmission line. As for the current condition of the car, the front and back doors on the passengers side of the car will not lock, the AC is not working, and the automatic seatbelt on the driver's side does not move. This was an "interesting" project, as I have not worked much on cars before. I have discovered a new-found loathing for compact cars as well as automatic transmissions. I also have found that the layout of a front-wheel-drive car really stinks! (literally as well as figuratively). If you have a Tempo/Topaz story you would like to share or link to, please contact Randomland Productions. In the subject line, type "Tempo/Topaz." Nick has also discovered a Tempo/Topaz fan club. And we should all agree that there is nothing more sick and disturbing than this (except maybe "How to Pimp Out Your 3-cylinder Geo 101"), but nonetheless, it exists. I believe it is www.tempotopaz.com Early in October, Nick traded the car for a canoe...a good trade indeed! However, the saga lives on. I still have a spot of discolored skin on my arm where I bled from cutting my arm on the car while removing the exhaust manifold curly-q thingy. Oh it ain't over yet... End of story.