Category: Trip Logs

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.

Thursday morning I got up early, put the dog out, and got a quick shower. Brian was due to arrive at 7:30 so I made coffee and threw my gear in the truck. After swapping his truck for mine in the driveway I kissed the girls and we hit the road by 8:30.

The drive out was uneventful. Brian and I swapped out turns behind the wheel every 100 miles or so, whenever we were stopping for gas. It added time to the trip but it was also key to staying loose after being in the truck for so long. I still can’t get over 15 or so gallons in the tank without it backing up and overflowing (I filled it up two days before we left and it stank of gas the entire time it sat in the driveway), and haven’t been able to fix that issue, so we just put 10 gallons in every 100 indicated miles—which is actually 113 due to the speedo not being calibrated. Siri directed us north to Pittsburgh and then over to Cleveland, and from there we curved down into Indiana and then to Fort Wayne.

The total trip was probably about 9 hours in total including stops. Aside from the road noise, the Scout is a very comfortable long-distance traveler, all things considered. With modern seats and power steering she’ll do 70mph all day, and the seating position is upright enough that you don’t feel like you want to fall asleep after an hour’s drive.

We got in around 6PM and after checking in the hotel, we found a brewpub nearby for some dinner, then stopped at a DIY carwash to scrub dirt off the truck—the first time I’ve ever washed it before a show—and picked up some beer and supplies for the weekend.

The show details weren’t explained very clearly on the website, so we had to ask some other IH folks at the hotel what time to arrive. On Friday morning we got a free lobby breakfast and made it to the grounds at about 9:30, and by then a lot of vehicles  had already arrived. We were put at the end of a mixed line of trucks facing a wall of IH road tractors from the ’80’s and settled in to our camp. The nice gentleman who parked us told us we weren’t supposed to put up a tent but we waited until he was gone and did it anyway; the sky was dark and cloudy and the forecast showed a lot of rain for later in the day.

This show has a different vibe from Nationals. The volunteers were out in force and were very helpful; many of them were retired IH workers who were happy to see all the trucks. There was no real organization for vehicles so we were next to a couple of Scouts, a big A-series pickup, and backed up against a D-series pickup. Across from us sat a Scout 800 and a tractor. The variety made for an interesting walk around the show; there was something new on every row. A giant tractor, then a Scout, then a fire truck, then a couple more Scouts, then set of Cub Cadets on the back of a flatbed. We got out and walked the side we were on, then did a loop around the back to see the vendor booths.

There weren’t as many used parts vendors as Nats. Coonrod’s had a big trailer full of goodies, and there was another guy with a Scout, a C-series pickup, and a trailer full of parts for sale. Most of the Light Line vendors were there, but some of them had clearly scaled back their displays. In all, it felt smaller than Nats.

I was hoping we’d be able to drive through the Engineering Center like they did for the first couple of Homecoming events, but it turns out the building has just been sold and will likely be torn down for something else. The museum where they were displaying the older trucks had to be moved from that building to storage, their fate unknown.

In the afternoon it started to sprinkle, so we re-adjusted our tent and moved it over the truck. Soon, it was raining more heavily, and we realized we were stuck in the middle of a circling derecho directly over Fort Wayne. We held the sides of the tent down while the wind gusted and it downpoured, waiting for a lull, and when that came we quickly broke the awning down, shoved it in the truck, and hightailed out of the show. Luckily the wipers were functional, and the Rain-X on the windshield did its work, so we were able to make it to the hotel drenched, but with no problems. After a soak in the pool we got showered and waited for the rain to taper off so we could get some dinner. We found a nice brewpub down the street and settled in for a beer and some pizza. On the way back it started raining again after some shakes at the local ZESTOS! and didn’t let up until 9PM that evening.

Saturday morning we got up and out the door earlier, aiming to get a better spot in the rows. We stopped off at a little bakery we’d spied for coffee and donuts, avoiding the hotel lobby food, and drove the long way around the factory to the main entrance where the International tower stands for a photo opp.

It’s looking run-down and sad over there. It would have been amazing to see the place in the ’60’s when it was going full-steam and was being cared for. We shot a bunch of photos and I set up the tripod for some timer shots. That was worth the time and effort.

Then we drove in the back way to the show and got a great spot next to our new friends from Pittsburgh. This time nobody warned us against the awning, so we set up camp and made ourselves comfortable. The second day was much busier than the first, because more people could show up on Saturday—so we were pleased we’d gotten there when we did.

I made a beeline over to the used parts guy to haggle for two things I’d seen on Friday: the first was a C-series instrument panel with later-style indicator lights on the outside. My panel is OK but I really like having indicators I can actually see; the early-style panels had a very small horizontal slit through which the lights are barely visible during the day. As a bonus, the gauges are all matching with black faces. As I mentioned in a video last month, the ones I’ve got in the Red Bus are three different colors: silver, black, and gold, having been swapped out at different times. So wiring this one up and making things match will be an improvement.

The second thing I found were a set of C-series reverse lights: glass lenses with heavy chrome bezels. I don’t have reverse lights on the red bus—it came with a giant spotlight on the roof which may have been a reverse light, but I tore that off with all of the other junk lights up there, so this sets up a future upgrade after I get her on the road.

Phil Coonrod had a set of pretty black Scout II door cards at his booth—patterned vinyl stretched over masonite board—that I considered briefly, but wisely decided I didn’t need. There was another used parts vendor on the backside who had a bunch of C-series metal laid out on the grass; one thing that was very tempting was a complete front cowl in better shape than the two I’ve got for $200, which was a screaming good deal. I hemmed and hawed over it for a while but noticed the shape of the grille opening is a later style; mine is concave on the sides to fit my grille while this one was straight. My cowl needs serious help, and this would have been an easy swap, but I’d like to keep the truck as close to a ’63 as I can. So I passed on that too. In hindsight I could have kept it and resold it later, but decided against dragging more parts home.

The sun was much stronger on Saturday so we spent a lot of time under the awning in the shade. That being said, we also spent a lot of time walking through the rows and checking out the trucks. Being further west geographically, there were more trucks we hadn’t seen Nats or other shows, which was refreshing. We met a bunch of new people, including the couple from Pittsburgh who were showing a freshly restored Scout II in a mint green color. He was already talking about his second truck and eyeing the lift on Peer Pressure.

At 4PM we’d had enough of the heat and broke down the awning; by that time several of the long-distance vendors had already left and the rows were thinning. We headed back to the hotel to load in the gear, take a shower, and find another place to eat. This time we found a brewpub closer in to the center of Fort Wayne and had sandwiches and cold beer in the air-conditioning. While we ate, we talked over plans for engineering and producing a DIY electric steering kit for the Scout 80/800, which several people at the show had expressed an interest in. I’m also interested in doing this for C-series trucks, with mine as the prototype.

Sunday morning we checked out early, topped off the fluids in the truck, grabbed a McDonald’s breakfast, and hit the road. The first couple of hours through Indiana and all of Ohio were temperate, even comfortable in the sunlight. Pennsylvania up through the hills was cool and dry. But as we descended towards the Maryland state line it got hot and sticky, and then we hit the only traffic on the whole trip on Rt. 70. Thankfully these slowdowns were only for ten minutes at a time, so we avoided sitting still. And I’m happy to report that as hot as the engine got, the needle on the gauge never climbed above its normal spot on the left side. I did smell oil on heavy acceleration, so I’m going to have to track down where that leak might be coming from—my guess is the valve covers are weeping somewhere.

We finally rolled into Catonsville at about 6:30 and I sent Brian on his way home with a couple of cold seltzers; his fancy Ford has A/C so I’m sure he cooled off quickly. I dragged my basic gear inside and left the rest of it in the back of the truck to worry about later.

The final mileage tally was 1041 indicated on the gauge, which works out to 1182 miles true, which checks out (Siri pegged the trip from home to the hotel at 548 miles one-way).

We had a great time, mostly because Brian and I got to hang out together for the whole weekend; but it’s a different vibe than Nats. I think the big thing missing from this show is the feeling of community; every year in Ohio there’s a huge party in the parking lot at the hotel each night, and on Saturday there’s a barbecue and food and an auction with all kinds of things donated to raise money for charity. It goes from 6PM until whenever and it’s a really warm, cooperative experience. In some ways it’s better than the show; last year Brian and I stood out late with a group of people, including the owners of three of the better-known Scout shops in the country, just shooting the shit over beers and laughing. That’s really hard to replicate. This is a good show but it’s over at 4PM every day and it felt like everyone just went their separate ways. So we’re both thinking we’ll go back to Nats next year and maybe Harvesters in the Holler if we can work out the timing; the former is in June and the latter in September—but right around Finn’s birthday. We’ll see how it shakes out next year.

I’ll write more about the trip later, but our journey to Indiana went off without a hitch.