Flossing Fins (Post # 157)

Leading the pack on a glorious New Mexico morning.

 This is the best time of year for road trips in New Mexico. No chance of rain, clear blue cloudless skies, crisp mornings, cool evenings, and trees at higher elevations starting to strut their fall colors. Normally, tourists flock in from Texas and even as far away as Florida, but due to the pandemic the migration this year is reduced. Could be just as well. Unlike New Mexicans, people from those states tend to be somewhat lackadaisical about wearing masks and practicing social distancing in public.  

 

It works, but is it worth it?

According to “The Plan”, The Alfatross and I were supposed to be on the road now, working on refining suspension, steering, engine tuning, and all things related to testing road worthiness. Instead, we are both here in The Shed, me flossing fins on her radiator with pipe cleaners and she impatiently waiting for me to fix everything so she can get back on the road.

Do you know how many fins there are on a 1900C SS radiator?  I do: Cleaning fins is hard work. It helps to pass the time by practicing your math skills. It also helps explain why it takes so long.

Radiator core area = 39.5H X 44L =1,738 cm sq. (one side)

Radiator core fin rows = ca. 4 fins/cm = 158/side

Total length of fins, (both sides) = 158/side X 44 cm X 2 = 13,904 cm

Radiator core tubes (columns) = 28

I mention how many core tubes there are because they break up the 158 rows of fins into 4,424 discrete cleaning areas (each side), thereby compounding the effort it takes to clean them!

 

Virtually invisible, the tiny crack is in the center of the circle.

The delightful opportunity to clean fins was one of those “well, as long as the radiator is  out I might as well go ahead and . . . .  But why is it out? This most recent departure from The Plan, was prompted by the sudden appearance of a radiator leak. Fortunately, it occurred not on the road, but while testing instrument readings at The Shed. Unfortunately, it is still a major bummer, particularly because I pressure-tested the radiator after re-coring and before installation several years ago. The leak appeared as a fine spray of coolant coming from the front of the radiator near the top of the head tank. With the hood off and the engine running, I could see the exact location and snap a photo. 

Angling the radiator and shutter assemblies out together.

 

After sanding the area down to bare metal, I could see what appeared to be an ultra-fine crack at the edge of the soldered joint between the head tank and the new core. After much head-scratching I concluded the best idea would be to remove the radiator, patch the leak, and pressure test it out of the car again in case there might be other weak spots. After all, although the core is new, the tanks are 65 years old!

Andrea Zagato once described the body for the Alfa 1900C SSZ designed by his grandfather as “draped” over the engine and frame . . . and I agree it is a voluptuously seductive design. But . . . just try to get the radiator out without removing the engine first! Tucked up under the car’s nose, it is also firmly attached to the shutter mechanism in front of it that warms the engine up, making the combined assembly twice as thick. 

The thermostat functioned perfectly.

So . . . drain the coolant. Take off the 5 fiendishly fiddly vintage hose bands used to connect the three radiator hoses to the engine. Check the function of the cylinder head thermostat and the other one that operates the shutter. Removing the fan blades will provide another centimeter or two of clearance, but leaves the 5 sharp bolts that hold the blades to the hub exposed. Cover the engine side of the radiator with heavy cardboard to protect it. Take off the 4 bolts, washers and 8 rubber isolators that hold the radiator to the frame and it should come right out. That’s when you discover that it won’t budge unless you first remove two aluminum panels inside the cavity between the body and the radiator bulkhead. To get to them you have to remove the grills with their driving and running lights. As long as you are there anyway, neaten the wiring, thoroughly clean the entire area, and take measurements and photos of the hidden bumper support pipes in case you or the next owner might want to recreate one.

So . . . it is possible after all!

The glossy epoxy patch material matches the radiator's finish.

The extraction itself using an engine hoist was a slow, wiggly, twisty, hold-your-mouth-just-right process but it came out in the end with no damage to itself or the rest of the car. After patching the leak with JB Radiator Weld epoxy, I plugged the openings and pressure tested it to 17 psi without problems. It could have gone back in the car at that point, but the streaks on the fins left by dried coolant bothered me. 

More soul-searching led to the conclusion that there would never be another chance to clean the fins once the radiator goes back in the car, so it’s now or never. It does not have to be spotless, and the front side can’t even be seen once the shutter is in place, so it really isn’t  a big deal. 

It's just frustrating to be removing, patching, cleaning and reinstalling the radiator when on the other side of the overhead door, Legendary Route 66 beckons!

 

 

Obsession (Post # 156 )

I’ve been finishing the instruments, windshield washers, rally clock, firewall insulation and carpets so I can put the seats and transmission hump back in and move on to putting The Alfatross back on the road, but there was one more thing left to do. I can’t believe it took this long to do something seemingly so simple.  

Although restored, the trim strips on the wheel arches of *02056* are well done.

The Alfatross' unadorned wheel arches.

The Problem

When I got The Alfatross in 1969 the interior was complete except for the rear quarter panels that were lost when the previous owner had the car repainted in 1965. As part of The Alfatross’ restoration, I sent it to Paul Russell for re-trimming. There, Derrick Dunbar did a fabulous job, and recreated the missing quarter panels, but because I could not provide him with any information about the thin polished aluminum trim strips on the rear wheel arches protruding into the cabin on either side of the vestigial “back seat”, he omitted them.  Some restored cars do not have them e.g. *01954*, but all of the most original cars I have seen have the same trim strips.  Although The Alfatross’ were lost, the fastener holes were clearly visible in the original upholstery over the steel chassis as well as the chassis itself. 

The restorer of *01954* decided to omit  the trim strips .

Thought to be highly original, *01915* has the trim strips

The Alfatross' original  wheel arch cover showing holes.

The Strategy

Obviously, these hand-made trim pieces are not available at your local Zagato store, and although there might be an experienced aluminum fabricator in my area it was going to be the kind of job that involved a lot of activity inside the car so I decided to take a shot at making reproductions myself. What were the original dimensions?  What type of fasteners were used? What was the level of workmanship?  I didn’t know. The only thing I had to go on was photos of them in original cars.

This is a part of any car that is almost never photographed, but I was lucky enough to get revealing photos of *01915*, *01845*, *02056*, and *01947*.  From them it was clear that each wheel arch had one strip running up over the top adjacent to the quarter panel and another running up the side of the hump, both secured by three screws and meeting at a miter at the top of the wheel arch.  I concluded they were made of aluminum because that was used on virtually all other trim on the car, and because it is relatively easy to shape and can be polished to a bright shine.

Filing and sanding, filing and sanding, filing and sanding

The Process
It seemed like a simple task. All I had to do was find some aluminum bar stock with the right dimensions, cut it to length, radius one edge, create smooth curves hugging the shape of the wheel arches, drill a few holes and screw them into place. The first problem was obtaining the stock. I could not find it locally so had to order it online, and it was only sold in 12 ft lengths that had to be cut down to 6 ft for shipping.  I ruined several pieces trying to create the edge radius, even resorting to nearly disastrous experiments on a router table before finally resigning myself to hours of Old School manual filing and sandpapering.

Capturing the smooth arc of the wheel arch at the quarter panel was a piece of cake, but the strip running up the side of the arch was much more of a challenge because it had to have a three-dimensional shallow S-shape with a subtle twist along its length.  Suffice it to say that my aluminum recycle bin was getting overcrowded.

Annealing and shaping one of the trim strips.

I wasted time making patterns from thin copper strips to create plank-and-wooden-peg bending jigs without much success until I pulled out my propane torch and experimented with annealing the aluminum strips. After that, it was possible to do most of the shaping, bending and twisting with just my bare hands—but it was a tedious business:put it in, take it out, tweak it, repeat. Then there was the necessity of the two pieces meeting in a precise miter at the top of the arch.

The finished product. Obsession satisfied.

The Result

Yes, it took way too long, and maybe it isn’t a perfect match for the original material, but now after final buffing and installation the interior has a more finished appearance in line with the rest of the car.  More importantly, now I can reinstall the seats and carpets and get on with putting The Alfatross back on the road!

How to Make Time Fly (Post # 155)

1982: The Jaeger atop the dashboard of my '73 VW van.

Still dealing with instruments on the dashboard. This time it is the Jaeger 8-day rally clock mounted in the center of the dash. 

After The Alfatross was no longer drivable in the 1970s, it seemed like Jaeger Voyant clock was going to waste.  So I took it out and discovered that although it was pretty shabby-looking, it was still perfectly functional. I marveled at how smooth and symmetrical the hole in the dash was, and assumed that the Jaeger must have been “original equipment” for The Alfatross in 1955.. I made a bracket and mounted it on the dash of my 1973 VW van where it lived for the next 30 years, impatiently timing the VW’s snail-like progress during many a cross-country adventure.

During that time, I never really thought about what clues it could provide for the Alfatross’ early history, even when I had it restored in 2013 at Masterpiece Watch Restoration LLC in preparation for re-installation. 

The Alfatross' Jaeger Voyant chronometer.

A US Air Force A10 A Jaeger chronometer from WWII.

Just this week I started doing that. At first I did not even know what to call it, exactly. That made trying to research it difficult.  Starting with the Jaeger name, “fabriqué en Suisse”, and the puzzling model name “Voyant” (“seeing” in French), I swiftly discovered that the company has been building timepieces of all types since 1833, putting clocks in automobiles almost since the first car was invented, and putting highly accurate and durable elapsed-time chronometers in aircraft and ships since before WWII. Some authorities call this type of clock a “Chronoflight”, obviously referring to its aviation forbear. The more I learned, the more I was impressed. 

An identical Jaeger Voyant mounted in a 1959 Ferrari

The Jaeger is more than just a pretty dashboard decoration. I found an image on the Web of the exact same rally chronometer mounted in the console of a 1959 Ferrari 400 Superamerica Coupe Speciale.

The clock face carries three separate dials. The perimeter dial bears 3 hands for tracking seconds, minutes, and hours, accurate to 1/5 second. The upper interior dial tracks hours clockwise with one hand, the lower tracks minutes counter clockwise with two hands. Both interior dials have round windows displaying red or green to indicate whether they are in operation or stopped. The button on the left winds the spring when pushed in, and sets the clock when pulled out. The button on the right starts the clock, freezes it, and returns it back to 60.  

Although 1900CSSZs were all “special order” cars, whether or not the Jaeger could have been original equipment needs more research. An equally likely explanation is that one of The Alfatross’ previous owners added it. Either way it is yet another indication that the car was raced or, more likely, rallied during the 14 years between its creation and when I ended up with it. Another possibly related mystery is an incomplete lighting fixture mounted to the frame on the passenger’s side beneath the dash—evidence of a rally light for a navigator?

Mystery light fixture mount back.

Mystery light fixture front.

 

Mystery light fixture socket.

Has anyone out there seen a light fixture mount like this one?  It would have had a long, flexible stem with a lamp at one end and a plug at the other to fit into the mount's socket.

The Jaeger Voyant chronometer back where it belongs in The Alfatross' dash.

 Whether the Jaeger was “original equipment” in 1955 or not, it is part of The Alfatross’ story and a clue to how it spent those missing 14 years. Now time can finally fly!