In preparation for Alan’s cleanout day, I packed up my Honda on Friday with a full suite of recovery tools and other things I thought I might need: a change of clothes, a sleeping bag, and a whole bunch of cameras. I put the pod on the roof, not knowing what we might be transporting, and also to keep the fumes from the boat tank out of the car. I left the house before dawn and drove out to the park-and-ride on Route 70 to meet Bennett. We loaded some tools in from his car and then drove two hours west to a small little town outside Cumberland, where our friend Alan used to live. His sister and brother-in-law have kept his house and have redone it into a cozy little getaway, but all of his car stuff is still packed neatly into the garage.
After a quick tour of the house, our gracious hosts left us to begin sorting out the truck and parts in the garage. Bennett and I had chatted about our plan of action on the drive up and agreed that the first best task would be to get the truck running so that we could move it out of the garage and make space to sort through parts. The truck itself is an interesting FrankenScout: it’s a Scout 800 body sitting on a heavily modified Scout 2 frame with an interior and exterior roll cage, gas shocks, and race seats. The builder went so far as to pull out the entire interior structure of the engine compartment, surround it with a roll cage, and then rehang the outer fenders. It’s got a healthy 304 V8 with a Holley 2300 carburetor and a bundle of unfinished wiring. Strangely, there are three pedals, but it’s hooked to an automatic transmission. And sadly, someone (not Alan) got their hands on a case of Milwaukee’s Best and a sawzall and crudely cut the fenders front and back to accept a set of squared-off plastic fender flares.
We checked all the fluids, made sure the ignition actually bumped it, and checked for spark. Then we poured some 50-1 two stroke oil into the bowl and lit it off. To our surprise, it started almost immediately and idled until the fuel in the bowl was gone. Then it took some time to coax back to life, because it had been sitting for over three years. Most of the seals in the carburetor were dry and the passages were dirty. After fussing with it for a while, we pushed it out into the driveway so we could run it without smogging the house. We pulled the carburetor off and disassembled it, using brake cleaner and brushes to clear the jets and gas to soak the accelerator pump.
Our hosts brought us some lunch, and we sat inside in their warm kitchen and traded stories. They’re really nice folks; I’d ment them briefly at Alan’s service a couple of years ago, and it turned out they remembered Peer Pressure from being parked in front of the restaurant (it’s hard to forget Peer Pressure, really.)
Back in the driveway, we reassembled the carburetor and put it back on the truck. We were able to get it to start again from fuel in the bowl, so we decided to put my boat tank and fuel pump on the truck. Wiring the fuel pump to the switched side of the coil, we got the truck running from the tank. Working slowly, we got the accelerator pump to mostly come back but found that the truck didn’t want to stay running when it was shifted into gear. There’s something happening with the transmission or possibly the vacuum where it just bogs down and kills the engine. We chased down a bunch of vacuum leaks and sealed them up with no effect. So we let it idle for about half an hour in the driveway.
We started looking through the boxes to try to sort out what he had squirreled away. His brother-in-law had cleaned out the house of the international parts and put them into bins, but our goal was to organize them by type and take an inventory. So we pulled everything back out and laid it on the floor of the garage. We made a pile for Scout 2 stuff, a pile for Scout 80 stuff, a pile for aftermarket parts, and a pile of unidentified IH parts. Strangely, he had collected a ton of random IH parts in their original packaging: tractor parts, parts for big trucks, and other stuff we couldn’t identify. Bennett stumbled across an entire bin of nothing but valve stems: all shapes and sizes, most unused, most with part numbers stamped in them, but more than we could go through in one day. He had collected tiny bearing sets for small engines and gigantic bearing sets the size of dinner plates. We found Scout 2 sheet metal: a decent used fender and several endcaps, and NOS B series fenders, all tucked under a shelf.
Back at the truck, we figured we would try to plug in the existing fuel system and fuel pump, so we took my boat tank off and hooked the fuel cell up after making sure the gas inside was clean and diluting it with the remainder of our good fuel. I took some time to shorten the fuel line loop in the bed of the truck, which was about 5 feet too long, and after attempting to get it running with the fuel pump in the engine bay, I moved it back to the fuel cell in the rear of the bed. We messed with this for a while and got the truck running again to attempt to move it, but at that point we were almost out of gas and it refused to budge.
By about 6 o’clock, we had five big piles of parts laid out on the garage floor, mostly shaping up into identifiable groups. Our hosts kindly brought us some warm dinner, so we went back upstairs and enjoyed a lovely meal at their table. We talked about our plans for the evening: we both had brought overnight bags, but figured we could probably get through the rest of the work and leave late that evening, so we pushed on and started cataloging the different piles of parts and bins. We wound up with about five bins full of Scout 2 parts, a bin and a half of Scout 80/800 parts, four or five more bins of universal Scout parts, and two full boxes of unidentifiable International parts. Then we labeled everything and started replacing them on the shelves.
As we had been going through the different bins, we each set aside a couple of things we were both interested in: Bennett found a bunch of parts for R-series trucks, including a set of NOS shocks, a spare ashtray, and some other goodies. I found an air cleaner for a Holley 2300 2-barrel which fits the carb on Darth Haul. Darth came with a period-correct oil bath air cleaner which is a messy PITA, so I was excited about that. I found a Robert Shaw thermostat in its original packaging, and some ’71–’72 headlight trim rings for a Scout 2—an exact fit for Peer Pressure. Also, a mint Scout 2 AM/FM radio which might be a good replacement for the older model I have on the bench. But most interesting was a Holley Sniper EFI kit in the box on a shelf, waiting to be installed on Alan’s 2-barrel 304: identical to the engine in Darth.
After sweeping out the garage and returning everything to the shelves, we got the truck running one last time, and Bennett was able to start it in gear and get it to move under its own power back inside. We buttoned up the last of the stuff in the garage, washed our hands, said our goodbyes, and hit the road at about 10:30. I didn’t make it back into bed until 1AM, so I was pretty knackered Sunday morning.
After unpacking the car, pulling the pod off the roof, and sorting things out, I catalogued the parts and looked through the Sniper kit. The fuel box included everything the instructions mentioned, but the carb box was missing the instructions and some wire looms. I sent them an email update to work out a fair price, and we’ll get that taken care of.
I was pretty tired, so I spent most of the day finishing small projects; I installed the last seatbelt, organized the garage, and then took a wire wheel to the new air cleaner to blast the old paint and rust off. After a wipe down with acetone and a coat of etching primer, I shot it with black semi-gloss and let it dry on the carburetor. It makes the rest of the engine bay look like garbage.
Before this trip, I had decided my first and biggest goal for the spring after wrapping up a bunch of smaller projects left over from the cold winter would be to get the truck running and moving. My original plan of action was to sort out the original carburetor so that it was starting and idling reliably, swapping out the starter (which I suspect is tired) and the positive battery cable. Then I could attempt to bump the clutch enough to unstick it mechanically; the nuclear option is to have it towed to the transmission shop for them to fix it—after which it could theoretically be driven home. With the Sniper now on the bench, the plan has changed: I’m going to source the missing parts and install the EFI system instead, swap the starter and cable, and get the truck running that way.
I’ve found two main themes with my truck hobby: It’s brought me a lot of fantastic friendships full of adventure and knowledge. It’s also been full of amazing synchronicity: When I was finally able to let go of Chewbacca, Brian came along at just the right time to give her an excellent home. When I was ready for a new project, my friends enabled helped me with Peer Pressure and re-ignited my hobby and those friendships. When I had cancer, those same friends stepped in and helped me get back on my feet—and Peer Pressure out of the garage. Alan’s passing was unexpected and unfair. He was a great guy with tons of knowledge and always full of support. I choose to believe his EFI kit came at exactly the right time to get Darth on the road, and that somehow that was his final gift.