Let There Be Air! (Post # 149)

The Alfatross' ventilation system is somewhat abbreviated in comparison to this diagram from the 1900 Owner's Manual. It has no auxiliary heater or defogger funnel on the driver's side.  The  handle that controls airflow
 on the passenger's side is no. 12.

By modern standards, ventilation of the interior of a limited production 1950s Italian sports car like The Alfatross was often subservient to design and performance concerns. I am not implying that The Alfatross was deficient in that respect in comparison to other vehicles of the period, but only that it seems awfully basic in this day and age when few--if any--manufacturers still make cars that don't include air conditioning and electric windows as standard equipment.

The fresh air and heater box on the driver's side under the dash.

Air vent with butterfly valve on the passenger's side behind glove box

Defogger vents on top of the dashboard as seen through the windscreen.

The Alfatross's concessions to creature comforts included fresh air vents below the dash on the driver's and passenger's sides as well as large roll-down Plexiglas windows (albeit without vent wings) and hinged quarter windows. Small louvers in the top of the dashboard on the driver's and passenger's sides combat fog forming on the inside of the windshield with warm air from the heater beneath the dash. A 32 mm diameter stretchable air duct hose connects a pipe on the back of the heater housing on the driver's side to the defogger vent on the passenger's side. Under the dash on the driver's side a little door in the back of the heater box can be opened to admit fresh air.  On the passenger's side ventilation is supplied through an 80 mm hose controlled by a simple butterfly valve behind the glove box. The bakelite handle on the valve had broken off long ago. Restoring it turned into a major ordeal (the subject of a future post). 

The underside of the dashboard provides a stark contrast to the simple,
elegant facade that greets the driver and passenger. The de-fogging hose
weaves through it all.

Taking up where I left off in the last post, after refining the fit and finish work on the firewall carpeting and insulation pads, I turned my attention to making all the repairs to the ventilation system and other details under the dash: repairing  the butterfly valve, running the defogger hose from the heater to the louvers on the passenger's side of the dashboard, getting the Tudor windshield washer to work, repairing a leak in one of the washer squirters, and re-routing the odometer cable to keep it from interfering with the windshield wiper crank arm.  Turns out, 5 "little jobs" equals 1 Big Job and a lot of practice mastering contortionist moves.

Working under The Alfatross' dashboard is not one of my favorite ways to pass the time. The interior is divided into two coffin-sized spaces on either side of the transmission and drive shaft tunnel protruding high into the cabin. The experience is strongly reminiscent of spending time in an MRI machine--but less comfortable. I figured out some tricks that helped, but there is no way to make the experience pleasant. When you are working alone, one trick is to take every tool you think you might possibly need when you wriggle in--nothing's worse than having to crawl out 15 seconds after crawling in because it turns out you needed an 11 mm open end wrench instead of a 10.

Next post will tackle the multi-step process of "re-manufacturing" the butterfly valve.

Now Where Was I? (Post # 148)

OK, so I took a 477 day break from blogging.  That doesn't mean work on The Alfatross stopped, just that other aspects of life got in the way. I have all the usual excuses: the Day Job, a trip to Italy the Alfatross' native land, repair work on some of her stable mates, and even shoulder surgery. But work continued on The Alfatross albeit at a reduced pace. The recent COVID pandemic has had virtually no negative effect on this and might even be accelerating progress by reducing other distractions.  
 

What you have to do to replace the odometer cable on my old 4Runner!

Excuses, Excuses 

Cinque Terre, Monterosso al Mare.

477 days ago I was looking at my 5-page list of tasks that remained to be done to finish The Alfatross and make her road worthy.  Some of them were relatively small, like various tweaks under the dash such as installing the corrugated hose running from the heater to the de-mister vent on the passenger's side.  Others were more involved like stopping the leaks from the oil pan and transmission.  Still others had to do with refinements in authenticity like fabricating and installing replicas of the heat shield over the exhaust system, the protective cover under the master cylinder, and the polished trim strips over the wheel arches either side of the back seat.  These are among the underestimated and overlooked reasons why car restorations take so long and cost so much.

I am starting to wonder if this kind of a restoration is ever really finished.  I thought I thoroughly researched the original mechanicals and esthetics of the known Alfa 1900C SSs bodied by Zagato in 1954-5, but during the restoration new information kept cropping up, necessitating additions and corrections. Shakedown runs revealed minor problems with the wiring harness, accuracy of instrument readings, interior trim details, and a tendency for the interior door on the passenger's side to mysteriously lock itself. Even after every detail is perfect there is always entropy to contend with.

81 indexed terms so far and counting . . . .

But where to start?  From the beginning on January 1, 2013 I printed copies of each post and collected them in 3-ring binders.  I know, totally Old School.  But I'm glad I did because I could leaf through all 147 of them to catch up on where I left off.  It was immediately apparent that I needed to number them sequentially and create an index so I could refer myself and readers of The Alfatross to specific terms and topics already covered. Of course you can always use the blog archive from the list in the right hand column, or even search for specific words with the search function, but with 147 posts that can be tedious! The Index is still under construction but I plan to publish it as Post #150 in a week or so.

If you're going to be spending a lot of time in there, make it comfortable!

Around the end of last year I looked at my "to-do" list and decided to tackle all the relatively minor jobs under the dash and elsewhere in the interior, which meant that all the seats had to come out along with the carpeting and insulation on the firewall and the entire transmission hump. I had been putting this off not because it meant spending a lot of time in twisted yoga positions under the dash, but because it felt so discouraging to undo so many things that had already been done in order to do the new things and put it all back together again. And of course there is always the strong possibility that during that process something will get smudged, scratched, dented, frayed, punctured or otherwise damaged, adding to the workload later. But you have to start somewhere!

Getting ready to install the de-mister hose behind the dashboard.

Coming Attractions

The next several posts will be about wrapping up repairs in the interior including, but not limited to:

• molding and casting the fresh air vent handle on the passenger's side
• running the vent hose from the heater to the de-mister on the passenger's side
• getting the Tudor windshield washer to work
• restoring the Jaeger chronometer
• rebuilding and testing the benzine gauge sender
• testing the acua and olio gauges and senders
• modifying the firewall insulation pads
• modifying the carpeting
• reproducing the polished aluminum trim strips over the rear wheel arches 

Erosion control at The Shed: BEFORE

No car is an island

Distractions abound in this world of ours. But even with constant distractions things do get completed--eventually. Some distractions are even necessary. Last summer some of The Alfatross' friends (one of whom is a civil engineer) came together to take on a series of erosion control efforts at an arroyo that has to be crossed to link The Shed to the world of roads. Maybe the next time I drive across it with The Alfatross I will think of it not as a distraction, but another one of the "little jobs" contributing to the completion of the overall project.

AFTER

   

Shifting Concerns (Post # 147)

The five-speed transmission in The Alfatross is part of the SS package, along with the 1975 cc engine, Solex 40 P II carbs, 8:1 compression ratio, low-restriction exhaust system, 4:55 differential and other performance enhancements. In 1955, if you were intent on racing your 1900C SSZ, this was the transmission to have!

The Alfatross'  5-speed transmission has the desirable floor shift lever configuration rather than the more common column shift.  The oil leaks are emanating from the seals between the
black steel central body of the transmission and the aluminum housings at either end.

Specifications for the 1900C SS transmission and differential (highlighted).  Alfa Romeo
Owner's Manual.

1900C SS 5- speed gear ratios (highlighted).  Alfa Romeo Owner's Manual.

Back in 1969/70 when I was still driving The Alfatross, it had shifting problems.  Sometimes, it was as if the clutch was not disengaging fully. Other times it was fine. I learned to make shifts very carefully.  But when we were restoring the chassis we discovered what was probably the source of that problem, something that absolved the transmission itself from any blame. A bracket anchoring the clutch release linkage was separating from its attachment to the chassis and probably flexing, rendering disengagement of the clutch unpredictable.  Tim Marinos re-welded the bracket during the paint and body work.  


Tim's welding seems to have done the job.  The dragging clutch problem no longer exists, but there is another problem that likely will be more difficult to resolve: oil leaks! Before mating the trans to the engine I cleaned it up and took it to the local Alfa "go to" guy with the request that he look it over for obvious problems--like oil leaks. He replaced the seals around the front and rear drive shafts, but not the ones between the the steel central body and the aluminum cases at either end.  Now it looks as though these two seals are the problem.

The transmission sits high in an Alfa 1900 chassis, intruding far into the cabin, more beside the driver than below the floor pan.

View of the fill port (top) and drain port. 
The distance between the face of the fill
port and the inside of the trans cowling is
less than 1.5 in (3.8 cm). No way to get a
14 mm Allen key into it without removing
the cowling!

The fill port plug bears the scars of previous owners' 
frustrated attempts to use pliers to remove it instead of a
proper 14 mm hex wrench.

Like everything else about The Alfatross, there are no small problems. In the hope that a commercial sealing fluid could fix or at least diminish the problem I ordered a bottle of Blue Devil made specifically for transmissions--what did I have to lose?. 

The directions said to add one ounce per quart of fluid. That's when I realized I did not know how much oil the transmission contained. I could not find any reference to that in the literature available, but in any case the only totally reliable way to determine the volume would be to fill the case to the bottom of the fill port then drain the trans and measure the amount. 

The trans cowling comes off easily.  Just remove the front
seats, all of the insulation and carpeting in the front half
of the cabin, cover everything with moving blankets, tape
off all painted or metal surfaces, then remove the
accelerator linkage and seal, along with 10 bolts and 2
sheet metal screws and you're done . . . until you have to
replace it all again! 

That's when I remembered that the only way to access the fill port is to remove the transmission cowling, and the only way to remove the cowling is to take out the seats and most of the carpeting in the front half of the interior!

While doing all this I couldn't help but wonder what other owners have done in the past to circumvent the need to strip the interior just to change the oil or check the level in the transmission. The problem of insufficient clearance between the fill port and the cowling is compounded by the use of a 14 mm plug requiring a hex key. Whether in an "L" configuration, socket form, or using the hex wrench that comes with the factory tool kit, there is not enough clearance to mate the wrench to the plug.
  

Topping off the trans oil, followed by
draining it completely to measure the
volume.

Considering what my options might be I came up with three possibilities: (1) Do nothing and let the next owner figure it out. (2) Cut a hole in the side of the cowling to permit access to the fill port so you don't have to tear the interior out just to check the oil level, and (3) Switch the fill and drain plugs so that the 14 mm hex plug is in the drain port and the bolt-head plug is in the fill port, readily accessible with a common open end wrench.  

Option (2) was a non-starter for a number of reasons.  I admit that the easiest option (1) had a certain appeal, but option (3) seemed to be the best, even though it would still make checking the oil level somewhat cumbersome and require a pressure-operated oiler.

A 1900 Alfa 5-speed trans holds 2,200 mL of oil. 

I still needed to determine the volume of oil in the transmission case so I could add the right amount of transmission sealer. I topped it off, drained it completely and decanted the oil into graduated glass beakers, obtaining a total volume of 2,200 mL (2.32 qt) +/-5%.  At 2 oz per qt, that translates to 2.32 oz (69 mL) of transmission sealer. 

Transmissions take a beating, particularly those in sports cars. A bad driver can destroy one in seconds. Gears get rounded off when a shift is missed under power or if the linkage is bad. Synchros wear out.  Transmissions leak, run out of oil, and seize up. I have no way of knowing what The Alfatross' transmission was subjected to before I got it.  After I get it out on the open road I may find more problems, but that will have to wait until the snow melts . . . . 

Not the best time of the year for road testing in New Mexico!

Tanking Up (Post #146)

The Alfatross' gas tank shortly after removal.

Draining the tank to check for debris and to
ascertain its capacity.  

Beautiful, powerful engines are great. Flawless paint finishes, sumptuous interiors, jewel-like instruments, and state of the art brakes are all well and good but your're not going anywhere without gas and a tank to put it in. 

The Alfatross' gas tank appeared to be in pretty bad shape when I took it out back in 2004. All of the important openings such as the tank filler neck, the fuel level sender, the drain plug, the fuel line to fuel pump connection, overflow circuit, and vent were good as new. The hoses were shot, of course, and there was rust and even pitting on the tank's exterior. The interior of the tank was surprisingly busy with a complex of baffles around the fuel pick-up, but thankfully virtually rust free.

Once in place, the gas tank leaves little room for anything
else in the trunk.

Could there be undetectible pin holes that would later cause big problems?  I considered my options: make a new one?  Take it to a skilled welder in the hope that prophylactic reinforcing patches could be applied here and there? Or research gas tank interior sealing agents, pick a good one, and seal the hell out of it?

The copper fuel line was preventing the spare tire
from fitting properly in its recess next to the tank.
Note it is in contact with the tire. 

Having already sealed the gas tank for the '73 VW microbus with a product offered by POR 15 I decided on that approach.  After completing that process and giving the sealer weeks to set up, I should have plugged all the openings and filled it with some kind of fluid to (a) check for leaks, and (b) calculate its usable volume.  I should have, but I didn't. I was just as put off by the idea of filling it with water, even after sealing it, as I was filling it with many gallons of gasoline, which would mean handling a lot of a substance I have learned to keep contained and avoid contact as much as possible.  






So the gas tank ended up being installed and plumbed in just before the Arizona Concours in January 2016.  We put a few gallons in and everything was fine, but I was still dubious about its integrity.  A couple of weeks ago I decided to end the suspense and fill it to capacity.  But first I needed to drain it completely to see if there were any debris, rust fragments, traces of sealer, or other signs of something going wrong. To my great relief the filter in the funnel over the catchment tank was completely clean. 

I was suspicious that a leak had developed at the outlet
from the tank to the fuel pump, but repeated tests failed
to confirm that.

I started refilling the tank 5 gallons at a time and waiting at least a day between fills to check for slow leaks.  So far it is up to 15 1/2 gallons (about 59 liters), and the level is still several centimeters short of being "full" The official repair manual says the 1900 and 1900C models were equipped with 53 liter tanks and the 1900 TI model had a larger, 80 liter tank (21.2 gal.). These numbers are telling me that's what The Alfatross has, and the tank's rough dimensions, 61 cm x 68 cm x 21 cm = 90 L (23.8 gal) seem to confirm that. 

The new fuel line I made had a tortured shape, but
permitted the spare tire to sit upright.

So far my concerns that the tank might have a leak somewhere have proven unfounded. There remains a detectable aroma of gas in the trunk, but now I suspect it is emanating from a loose rubber seal at the filler cap, rather than the tank itself. 


The tank fills the trunk area from battery to tire, with little room to spare.  The radius in the bend of the copper fuel line we made to replace the broken original was too large, forcing the spare tire to sit at an angle, so I made another one with a tighter radius and that fixed the problem.  

But there is one thing I can't do anything about.  It comes with the territory. When the car is on the ground and the trunk lid raised as far as it will go, you have to get down on your knees, duck your head, contort your back, and dislocate your right arm to wiggle the spare tire out. One of The Alfatross' siblings whacked David Smith on the head with its trunk lid, during one such maneuver. The gash required several stitches to close. Oh, the inconveniences we suffer to live with such beautiful creatures!

The Princess and the Ploughman (Post #145)

Not afraid of heights. The VW on top of Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park, Washington state.

In 1973 war broke out in the Middle East. It really got my attention because the price of gas in the US—when you could find it—went from about 29 cents per gallon, to a panic-inducing 55 cents a gallon. At the time, I was driving a 1967 Mustang with a big V8 engine, not the most fuel-efficient vehicle on the planet. My father, always a glass is half-empty kind of guy, correctly concluded that the price of gas was going to continue to increase and encouraged me to get rid of the Mustang and acquire something more economical. Things did look pretty gloomy so I went car shopping. After paying the princely sum of about $4,000, I became the owner of a new, jaunty, blue and white 1973 VW “bay window” microbus/van/transporter. I wish I could explain why I ended up with that instead of a real car but whatever the logic was at the time, it is long forgotten now. 

Kor Smit, a hitchhiker we picked up outside Devil's Tower
Wyoming who rode with us all the way to Fairbanks. We
corresponded for many years afterward.  Anyone out
there know him?  Last known address was BARK 15, 9606
Kropswolde, Netherlands.

A few weeks later, the VW, a friend and I were on a road trip, the first of many.  The rather vague destination was Fairbanks, Alaska, 4,238.3 miles from the starting point in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. For you Europeans, that is pretty close to the distance from Chapel Hill to Milano all the way across the Atlantic Ocean and halfway across the Mediterranean. It actually turned out to be almost twice that distance because due to side trips and meanderings.

Passing through Tennessee one winter the VW and I were 
caught in an ice storm that encased him in hundreds 
of pounds of ice.  The passenger side windshield wiper 
broke off under the strain.

A few days into the trip we picked up Kor Smit, a Dutch hitchhiker.  He inspired us to relax the itinerary, to be more spontaneous, more adventurous, and to take time to meet people along the way instead of just racing to a destination. As soon as we started doing that, things got better.

On-the-road repairs like tightening the bolts on the CV
joints in a campsite in the Wind River Range were 
sometimes inconvenient, but ample ground clearance 
meant you didn't need a lift!

Among its many virtues, the VW displayed a talent for creating impressionistic artwork
such as this "landscape" that appeared on the sliding side door during a trip to Big Bend National Park in Texas.  A hybrid style somewhere between Claude Monet and Georgia O'Keef?  Photo by Bob Adams.

During the almost two months it took, the VW and I bonded, and 35 years later it is still in my garage. It changed my appreciation for what a car can mean. The VW wasn’t about looking good, going fast, or getting to a certain destination as rapidly as possible. It was about having experiences. When we finally made it to Fairbanks, it was kind of a let-down. Not much to see, not much to do. Actually, we couldn’t wait to hit the road again!  The memorable part was the journey, the people we met, the things we saw and did along the way, not the destination! 

One of those trips stands out in my memory because of how intimately it involved the three of us: me, the VW, and The Alfatross. It was in 1979 when the VW was 6 years old and already on its second engine. It wasn't just another road trip. It was do or die time. I was moving to Texas and if The Alfatross was going to survive, she had to come with us. There was no alternative. With 1.7 liter air-cooled engines boasting all of 67 HP VW microbuses were not built for towing, and 1955 Alfa 1900C SSZs were not built to be towed. It was a gamble, but it paid off, and the humble VW ploughman became the princess' hero. They spent the next 3 decades together, sharing the various garages and driveways where I lived as equals. Now she dominates The Shed, preening as her restoration is nearing completion while the ploughman who saved her is relegated to secondary storage space in The Shedlet.  

The VW is not a collector car by any measure and I certainly have no intention of restoring him to like-new condition. But I am going to keep him. After The Alfatross leaves us to take her rightful place among automotive royalty, I intend to muster the energy and find the time to get him back on the road.  Who knows, maybe we still have an adventure or two still left in us . . . .

The Princess and the Ploughman prepare to leave the safety of Hendersonville, North Carolina for the trip to College Station, Texas, 1,201 miles away.

Embrace Pessimism! (Post # 144)

Having finally solved The Alfatross' mysterious brake problem(s) after months of frustration with what I initially assumed would be a one-hour fix, it was now time to tackle installation of the new Quicksilver exhaust system (https://www.quicksilverexhausts.com/Products/ALFA%20ROMEO). That should be a very straight-forward process too, but after the experience with the brakes I steeled myself to be prepared for lots of unanticipated problems. 

The back half of the finished Quicksilver exhaust ready to mount.

With the Quicksilver system's 17 pieces already test fitted and welded into just two continuous sections, I thought I was all but finished. Then Luigi Ventura ("Gigi") alerted me to the fact that 1900C SS cars with 1975cc engines came from the factory with heat shields over the first set of "siamesed" mufflers . . . and protective covers over their master cylinders.  

The heat shield illustration in the Alfa parts
catalog. Note that the notch appears to be cut
into the driver's side of the shield.

Insulated panel Tim installed under the
floorboard on the driver's side.

I had seen an image of the muffler heat shield in the official Alfa parts catalog David Smith sent me, but never an actual example mounted on a car or otherwise.  After learning from David how hot the floorboard of his 1900C SS got when running, I asked Tim Marinos (http://vintageautocraft.com/) to build an insulated panel to cover the space directly underneath the driver's side, thinking maybe the heat shield would not be all that important. And where would I ever find one anyway? 

Galafassi's original master cylinder cover (top) and his
reproduction.  Paolo Galafassi.

The cover over the master cylinder struck me as more of an "automotive urban legend" because I thought I knew these cars as well as anyone and I had never seen or even heard of one.  Maybe it was something someone fabricated for a race or rally car, not a production item? 

Galafassi's reproduction of the exhaust shield flanked by the original examples that provided
the pattern.  Paolo Galafassi.

Then Gigi sent photos of multiple actual examples of both the heat shield and the master cylinder cover along with reproductions made by his friend Paolo Galafassi (https://www.classicvintagecar.it).  All of my skepticism vanished in an instant. These are not insignificant, minor items. They are functionally important parts that, given their exposed location and the necessity to remove them to work on the brake and exhaust systems, were almost invariably scraped off, rotted off, or removed and never replaced. No trace of The Alfatross' original exhaust heat shield remained, but the four threaded inserts in the chassis for the screws that held the original master cylinder cover in place were still there. The Alfatross would not be complete without these parts!

I knew from previous experience that photos of reproductions are one thing but the actual product can be a big disappointment. The high-dollar exhaust system I ordered from AFRA is a good example. It took them 9 months to make it, the build quality was terrible, and it did not come close to fitting. But Paolo's reproductions appeared to be  accurate and the prices quoted by Gigi were very reasonable, so I placed the order for both as well as some other parts offered on Paolo's website.  

Bottom side of the exhaust shield. Paolo
Galafassi.

Much to my relief, the parts arrived securely packed in less time than it takes for me to get parts from Atlanta for my old Toyota 4Runner.  After I sanded and painted the master cylinder cover and made a very slight adjustment to accommodate the emergency brake rod, it fit perfectly.  

Critical dimensions of the siamesed mufflers.

The master cylinder cover in place on The Alfatross.

I decided to leave the exhaust heat shield in "natural" aluminum, but to paint the clamps to match the exhaust system.  Even though I sent Paolo a diagram of the dimensions of the siamesed mufflers, I had misgivings about how well the shield would fit. I could readily see that its curved shape was necessary to clear the bulge in the center of the mufflers, but what was that notch on one side for?  And why was one of the clamps set in the center of the shield instead of diagonally opposite the other one? 

The shield came with holes drilled for one set of clamps and a suggested location for where the second set was mounted on the original shields, but Gigi cautioned that a different location might make a better fit, given that The Alfatross' Quicksilver system is not exactly like the original Alfa system and that the insulated panel Tim made might crowd the space above the mufflers. And which side did the notch go on? I could see a lot of ways this could go wrong.

The Quicksilver exhaust system, heat shield and master cylinder cover in place on The Alfatross.

Note that the notch in the heat shield allows access to three of the screws that hold the master cylinder cover in place.

With the Quicksilver system already mounted I carefully slid the shield in place with the notch facing the passenger's side. No problem with clearance. The pre-drilled clamp fit the exhaust pipe perfectly, and the second clamp lined up with the x's marking the holes for the factory location.  The reason for the notch was now obvious: it allows access to the screws that hold the master cylinder's cover in place!  A perfect fit on the first try?  This can't be happening!  

I sent Gigi photos of the heat shield and cover mounted on The Alfatross and asked if I had done it correctly and if he had photos of how other people had mounted it.  After pointing out that the Alfa parts catalog clearly shows the heat shield oriented with its notch facing the drivers' side (though not actually attached to the exhaust system), he made the observation: 

About exhaust shield there aren't original car pictures and consider that in this century there is only one man in the world mounting this extinct part : you. in fact the first cover reproduction in the world is yours.😄

Gigi, Paolo and I would love to hear from anyone out there who has photos of how the exhaust heat shields were mounted originally on 1900C SSs, but we are pretty sure we got this right because the fit is so effortlessly perfect.

The good thing about being a pessimist is that you are always either being proven right . . . or pleasantly surprised!