Never the Same #83 Going in Deep

Kirk, relieved of one worry, continued to worry after his pet project.

 

Cue: “True Faith” https://youtu.be/Etn5JulThK0?si=NlVKeFtGlNiOFVLG

 

            Well. Obviously, duh.

            Kirk and Sarah Elizabeth’s relationship significantly changed after being relieved of the overhanging problem that instilled an unbridled anxiousness in both of them.  Yes, Kirk still often ruminated over Sarah’s mention of marriage, but he couldn’t see himself in that kind of relationship with a family, at least not yet as he had said earlier that marriage was for older people not a young-un like him after all; he was only twenty-two at this particular juncture.

            With the interpersonal relationship problem resolved and the subsequent massive relief helping him to feel better, Kirk could get back to focus on his stock car. Seeing he got his shiny Summit order, he got more excited to work on his fully adjustable front suspension, a real departure from last year’s archaic semi-adjustable suspension which boiled down to a hit or miss suspension tweaking at best. This factor between the two systems remained an important function when at the track under time pressures to make a fine-tuning change that could make a difference between winning or losing. Kirk had his sights firmly set on winning this coming racing season.

            Having burned and ground off all superfluous mounts and brackets from the frame before he built the roll cage, he could still identify where the stock A-arm brackets had been located. He also found and withdrew from his junk pile the actual old A-arms. Out in the cold, he dug through the pile of scrap metal until he found both of them, his fingers a bit cold out there digging through the various junked-out metal pieces. Using the old A-arm as a model, he cut a pattern out of cardboard, a commodity he always kept around for patterns or holding parts cleanly or separately in order. He trimmed the cardboard carefully to make it exactly the same as the old frame.  If he actually knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t have to follow the length, width, and taper of the old ones, but he needed a sure, correct position to his spindles and not something that might end up being something totally out of whack which would force him to change it radically during the racing season not to mention if they were waaay off, the suspension might bind up, change the wheel’s camber (tilt) unintentionally, or not work at all. That would be a real mess and embarrassment.

            Starting with the three-quarter inch round bar stock in his vise, Kirk cut it about two inches too long, found center, and heated the heck out of the bar. Red hot, which felt good in the cold garage, he emulated a black smith, though not slamming it with a hammer, but instead, he took a piece of pipe slipped it over one loose end and slowly, carefully pulled it around until it was close to the bend he had patterned on the cardboard. He found just touching the hot metal would instantly ignite the cardboard.  Can’t burn up your pattern after just making it. Right now, the bar was shaped in a broad triangle with a rounded end, instead of a point. From there he measured and heated again five inches back, marked with chalk on both sides. Red hot in an area of about two inches, he took the pipe and slowly bent it inward thirty degrees, checking with his pattern. He did the same to the other side, bending it exactly the same as the first until those bends formed the two ends into a parallel. Checking with his cardboard pattern, Kirk had his doubts like usual, so he compared it to the original, factory upper A-arm. Close, but no cigar. With more heat and more, even more careful bending he finally got it the correct shape.

            Pondering with his cold, dirty fingers in his pockets, he wasn’t sure what his next step should be because he had at least two options. He decided on cutting, fitting, and welding the ball joint mounting plate. He had quarter-inch plate and three-sixteenths plate lying around. He went with the thinner of the two, thinking it would be easier to fabricate versus his signature over engineering which would have favored the thicker metal.

            Tracing carefully making a new pattern on the cardboard following the inside of the bar he just shaped, he then marked the sheet metal with a sharpened piece of chalk. He torched the piece of plate the best he could to the right shape. Picking up the hot metal, with pliers of course, he compared it to the other piece. Too large which he had planned on so he got the grinder out and went to town on it. With sparks flying, he spent a good fifteen minutes on it, grinding, sizing, grinding and sizing until he got it fitting just right. He clamped the two together perfectly and fired up the arc welder. With a couple spots of weld, he flipped his full coverage welder’s helmet up. And found one corner had slipped, now stuck crookedly. He broke it loose, ground the welds off and tried it again with two clamps this time. Yeah, good, straight and solid. Kirk finished welding it up solid. A good start on the A-arm, but it took him all day just to get that far. He needed to go inside and warm up. 

            The next day, Kirk ran to the high-end tool store despite snowy weather. He didn’t want to spend more money on a tool, money that wouldn’t directly go into the car, but he had to buy a specialty tool, a three-quarter inch, course-thread die.

            You probably heard of the term “tap and die.”  A tap is a probe-like tool to cut threads inside a metal hole while a die is a thick coin-like tool used to cut treads on the outside of round bar stock, like Kirk was working on.  Tap and die sets are expensive and probably useful to have around, but the sets don’t go up to three-quarters, so he bought just the one. Still plenty expensive for a single highly machined tool. He bought four three-quarter inch bolts to mount the A-arms to the frame. Kirk returned back to the garage.

            So back to work, he cleanly cut the A-arm ends off a bit long because he reasoned that he could shorten them later on if necessary. He put a clean chamfer around the cut edge to help start the die cut threads. With his new tool and a liberal dripping of oil, Kirk painstakingly cut threads on the arm further down than necessary. Kirk examined the nicely cut treads.  He easily screwed the new Hiem ends onto the threaded ends and they went on smoothly. He admired his handiwork, yet unfinished. Carefully measuring and eying up the plate he had welded in, he reexamined, remeasured the original A-arm. With chalk, he traced out one large hole in the center and four small ones surrounding the large one that corresponded to the new racing ball joint. Kirk rechecked everything once again, adjusting some of his marks. Satisfied, he quit for the night!

            The next day going back to work on that A-arm, he second-guessed his marks from the night before. If he messed these up it would be at least ending up with extra holes in the wrong place. If he found it incorrect later or worse yet unusable, he’d have to trash the whole thing and start over. He measured again just to prove to himself that his marks were right. Happy and with a deep breath, he drilled the four small holes and carefully torched the big hole. Not perfectly for sure, but he cleaned it smooth with a hand file and a lot of elbow grease. He bolted in the ball joint and it became more of a piece of mechanical art.

            Without a step-by-step rehash of how he did it, Kirk cut, cleaned, drilled and welded four half-round plate steel mounts on the frame for the A-arm. With limited excitement brewing, he bolted his new built A-arm to the frame with those locking bolts and nuts. He then bolted the wheel spindle to the ball joint and torqued it down tight. It looked professional and cleanly built. With a held breath, Kirk took hold of the spindle and worked it up and down. It moved smooth as silk without a catch or rub or anything. Proud of his work, he called it another day for it was one down with the other side to go. Having done one, the second should go easier, right? Well, should is always the key word, though let’s just say here without explaining the process over again, it took just as long as the first, but it came out just as well though both took a week which might be embarrassing for anyone else but him. Got to do it right, Kirk thought.

            Kirk felt pleased with himself that both front A-arms turned out perfect in looks and function, at least sitting there in the garage. Yet, he was far from done with just that part of the car’s front suspension because he had yet to fabricate mounts for the shock absorbers, which he didn’t have, mounts for the antiroll bar, which he didn’t have, and a simple set up for adjusting the preload on the front coil springs which he didn’t have either. Though these three pieces wouldn’t be difficult or as critical as the A-arms he just built.

            If you got a wonder what the heck is an antiroll bar, not to be confused with the roll cage, an antiroll bar is an important part of the suspension on most modern cars and trucks. It mounts to the frame and both lower A-arms. Its function, while allowing independent movement of the front suspension, is to transfer torque (twist) from one side of the car to the other. For example, in racing while going hard around the left-hand turn, the right side loads heavy from centrifugal force forcing that side to dip down and the car rolls to that side. The bar actually takes that right side load and transfers it to the left side keeping the car flatter in rolling stance, and not letting the car roll perilously out of control, hence, “antiroll bar.”

            Walking to the garage to start in on another day of fabrication, Kirk gazed over to the dilapidated old garage where months ago he had pulled his old stock car inside. There were no doors on the old garage that wasn’t all that far away from falling in. The green and yellow stock car’s back end was all he could see from across the yard. The memories, particularly the victories, though small and few came streaming back to him. It only confirmed to Kirk that he found what he was born to do, race cars. There percolated thoughts of moving upward through the class to the more prestigious, faster and competitive Late Model class. Could he do it? He had long convinced himself that he could and he would do it; he would make it happen.

            Which leads us to the question to why he still had the old car? Why didn’t he sell the car? He could use the money for sure. Guilt? (We’ll address this later.)  Should he cannibalize the car for parts if money fell short for the new car and the next season loomed?  No, he vowed he wouldn’t do that. Because of those thoughts, aspirations, memories, second thoughts, and a guilty conscience lingered long and hard in Kirk. So why didn’t he put it up for sale because he definitely could use the money toward his new car? Only Kirk knew or then again, he probably couldn’t tell you if you asked because he didn’t know.

            Anyway, the last time the car ran was a fall day after the racing season had ended when his old high school friend Don unexpectedly showed up at the house. Kirk hadn’t seen Don in over a year, and like all of his friends he/they broke all old connections. Don, as you might remember, was a fellow gearhead and attendee of the high school BOCES Vo-tech Automotive Course along with Kirk. Both high in the class, Don and Kirk competed in the Engine Trouble Shooting Contest at the end of their senior year, losing of course. With Don’s surprising showing, of course, Kirk gravitated to the old garage to show off his pride and joy. Don didn’t seem all that impressed. Kirk asked if Don had gone to the races to see him in action. No, Don hadn’t. Of course! For the heck of it or maybe to show off, Kirk fired the stock car off. The open exhaust headers rattled their ears and the old garage’s loose wall coverings.

            Kirk backed the car out of the garage and asked Don if he’d like to go for a ride. Don didn’t seem fascinated but after a moment’s hesitation agreed and crawled in the car’s window after Kirk told him how to do the convoluted acrobatics. With Kirk sitting in the only seat of course, Don had to squat against the side and hang onto the roll cage. They headed out the long driveway the engine rumbling happily while the two guys bounced around in the car because of the extremely stiff suspension. Kirk always reveled in the noise volume of the engine and the solidness of the ride. Heading out on the road, Kirk fed on the throttle and went through the gears. Don appeared a bit shell shocked as they went faster. Kirk always wondered what speeds they reached on the track and just how fast it would go on a straightaway.

            Mind you this was on a numbered state highway and this loud, unregistered, uninsured, non-inspected, totally illegal vehicle in every possible way headed down the road. If any police happened by, they’d throw Kirk in the slammer for sure. Who knows the endless list of infractions he’d face!?

            Anyway, the car picked up speed really quick being a high-performance race car, but as Kirk should have surmised, the car refused to go straight! Now at speed the car darted left and right with Kirk fighting the wheel to keep it on the road. Of course, the car wasn’t built to go straight, it was built to constantly turn left on the banked oval track. With his latest bubble busted, Kirk let off the throttle, turned around at the next side road, and basically coasted home. He parked the car back in the old garage where it sat ever since.

            To say the least, Don was not enthused about the road test. Disheartened with his friend’s reaction and of course with the unruly behavior of the stock car, Kirk was not all that enthused either. He sure didn’t know this short visit would be the be the last and that he’d never see his old, so-called friend again.

            All these incidents during the autumn and early winter weeks would culminate in a change that would leave Kirk unrecognizable and downright Not the Same.