In the continuing saga of the speedometer reading incorrectly on the IROC I received some answers today.
I took the differential cover off. Thankfully the ring gear had the teeth numbers etched into it, 13:42. What does that mean? That means there are 13 teeth on the pinion gear, 42 on the ring gear. If you divide the teeth on the ring gear by the teeth on the pinion gear, you get the ratio. In this case, it equals 3.23 which is a widely used ratio.
From that, I now know what gears my transmission needs in order to display the speed traveled correctly thanks to this post on the 3rd gen forums. I went ahead and ordered a 38 tooth (blue) driven, and 15 tooth (gray) drive gears from eBay. These gears are commonly known by their colors.
I was a little apprehensive about taking the cover off, as it’s something I’ve never had to do before on a vehicle. I had a plan however. I purchased a different cover that has a fill and drain plug, the OEM one does not. The Dana 44 axles on my Jeep have them.
This differential cover is sold all over under different name brands, but all of them are made by the same place, LPW Racing Products. I purchased it directly from them through, you guessed it an auction on eBay. Besides having fill & drain plugs, it also has a girdle to help strengthen the already “weak” 10 bolt rear end this car has.
I also received the gauge clusters I had purchased from eBay, and was able to successfully remove the needle on the speedometer from one of them. I then used that needle and shaft from the donor cluster to rebuild my original.
I still need to purchase bulbs for my cluster. Not knowing how long they have been in there, but knowing how hard it is to remove the cluster – I want to replace them all. 1 of them is missing/broken.
In other news, I have removed the headliner with the help of my daughter. It definitely went better with the help of someone than had I attempted to do it alone.
Those dark areas show the original color
Last night, I took all of the old material and foam off. The backer is quite fragile, some small spots came off with the material or while I was taking the foam off with a combination of a vacuum and sponge.
That light area in the upper left quadrant came off
By the end of the weekend, I hope to have the car back together. When I receive the gears for the transmission I plan on having a shop change them. I might then have to remove the cluster again if it requires more calibration.
I’m talking about the IROC. Part of diagnosing why the speedometer was reading incorrectly is knowing exactly what the gear ratio of the rear end is, and how many teeth the 2 gears in the transmission that drive the speedometer have.
Today, I did the easiest method for finding that with results that were not expected. Per the VIN and the RPO codes on the car, it should have a 2.77 gear ratio in the rear end, with a limited slip posi-traction differential.
For those of you that I just lost, that ratio means the driveshaft should turn 2.77 times for every time the rear wheels turn once. Limited slip is a form of posi-traction, which enables both wheels to spin at the same time. For this car, the other option was an open differential, where only 1 wheel actually provides the power.
I jacked the car off the ground, placed my camera under the driveshaft and rotated 1 wheel towards the front of the car.
As Described
The results? The driveshaft spun about 3.5 times. What? It should have only spun 2.77 times!
I knew “something” had happened while my dad and stepmother went on a trip, but didn’t know if it was the transmission or the rear end. I posted on Facebook about it where my stepmom and her brother, my uncle argued about the subject. I tend to trust him more about mechanical things like this, he did paint it after all.
Names removed for privacy sake
My next steps are to remove the differential cover to inspect and verify the gear ratio. I also need to check the transmission gears. There is one located on the tail shaft, and one that is driven from that gear to turn the speedometer cable.
Unfortunately, I believe this is a Borg Warner 9 bolt rear end, made in Australia. I have done a lot of searching tonight and have only found used sets of the 2.77 ring and pinion gears for sale. Replacing these two parts is not a cheap venture, so it will be put on the back burner for now. I’m merely posting this for documentation and as my dad would infamously say to make a “historical document.”
My headliner material should be arriving on Friday, and I have been in the progress of removing the trim and parts to take the existing original headliner out. I hope to be successful in doing this, as it’s something I have no experience in. I will videotape and obviously post here about it.
I’ve been in a real funk lately. My mental status has been very low. Everything seems to be like Mount Everest at this point. It’s been beating me up, seriously.
So today, I decided to do something that generally cheers me up I worked on the Camaro. I had a laundry list of things to get done and most generally speaking, I accomplished them!
Over the winter, I spent over $1000 on parts to put on the car, with plans to do all of the work over the winter. Boy was I wrong. The inner bear who just wants to hibernate comes out in me in the winter.
I can proudly state the rear end work on the car is done at this point however. Now I just have to do the front, which includes the brakes, struts and strut mounts. Plus any rubber bushings or hoses that need to be replaced.
When I replaced the rear shocks, I had to pull the rear carpet section out of where it was to access the shock mounts. Placing it back was quite the struggle. I had to remove the back seat and remove a couple of screws on the plastic interior pieces in order to put the carpet back.
I then made a discovery that has really boggled my mind. The front seat belt holders were broken, and so I ordered some re-manufactured ones from Hawks. I was quite surprised to discover that the fabric used on the drivers side was maroon instead of grey. The passengers side is grey. I also found it interesting that the drivers side is longer than the passengers side by about 2 inches. I think the car was made on a Monday or Friday. Someone wasn’t paying attention. That’s for sure.
Old on Left, New in Middle, Seat Belt on Right
It’s been a while since I’ve made any real progress on the car. I haven’t posted anything new to YouTube, but I have shot some video. I just need to edit it. It feels good for a change.
I finished it off by installing the spare seat a Camaro buddy let me borrow since mine is still in Oklahoma, and due to stay at home orders/pandemic I haven’t went to get it. I will as soon as I can.
Then it was just a matter of putting the rear wheels back on and I now it’s finally a driveable car again. I’m still figuring out how to get a license plate, as our BMV offices have been giving some conflicting information on accessibility.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had this view
Tomorrow I’m going to clean up a few things in the rear of the car, get the old stereo out of it, and be done for a while. I want to actually enjoy this car this year – while I can.
I’m currently trying to make a schedule and figure out when I will do all of the front end work that I know will make the car about 100 times more fun to drive.
Another one bites the dust. Another piece of my childhood, my memories and my life, gone. I drove by today, and the lot is flat. No remnants of the building remain.
Such has become so frequent locally that it’s normal. It kills my heart and breaks my soul.
1301 South Walnut Street
I lived in this home for a period of time. It had been converted into four apartments. I lived in the two that are facing this google street view image.
I was shoved into this new living situation because “Kathy says you can’t live here anymore” according to my father. Kathy is my stepmother. I don’t know how or why he allowed that to happen. I certainly wouldn’t if faced with a similar situation.
My mother had just moved back from her years long sojourn with her husband at the time, on a drug and alcohol fueled run from the law. They ended up in Lubbock, TX as they ran out of gas to make it to their original destination, Oregon. My mom had spent time there working at a nursery, while they lived in a camping trailer. She had come back alone, trying to get away from him.
So here I was, essentially thrown at my mother like the garbage. It was odd, it was scary and it was traumatic. It was only a 1 bedroom apartment, my bedroom was the living room. I had no place to keep things, even clothes. Such was my life for that period of time.
It was during this period that I got into some of the most serious trouble I had ever gotten into in my life. It was the summer between 5th and 6th grade. I, like my father had matured physically earlier than my peers. I was six feet tall by then. I met some of the neighborhood kids and started to form bonds, as the move meant going to a new school (that also doesn’t exist anymore). It was a nice summer bonding with those guys, we got into a lot of mischief.
There was a new gas station one block away, called Bigfoot at the time but now a Circle K. Back then, they used to store all of their cases of soda right outside the front door. We hatched a plot to take it all, and take it all we did. With two lookouts, we would run across the front making sure to keep our heads down to not be seen by the employees. We would then drop off our load at the back of the gas station, in an alley. It was a circular pattern that we repeated until we had met our goal. We then split up the spoils and took our booty home.
I, through the connections I had made found out about these things we called “bullets.” No, they were not the item a piece of ammunition fires out of a firearm, but something used on cable TV systems to block premium TV channels. This was before the wave of “digital” everything in our lives. These “bullets” would give you the channel if you placed it on the back of your TV however. So, we banded together to harvest as many of these as possible – to sell on our neighborhood’s black market.
There was a trick to harvesting these “bullets” however, as they were installed on the distribution blocks that fed cable TV access to each home, roughly fifteen feet in the air. Most of the electric poles in the vicinity had steps embedded in them however, making access easier. Those steps didn’t start until about six feet, causing some issues. We would often use trash cans and other items we could find to help us reach our goal. We obviously couldn’t do this during the day, so it would always be late at night when we did this. We didn’t want an unsuspecting person to start looking out their windows when we disconnected their cable service to remove these items, just to connect it back a minute or so later.
Officially called a “Positive Trap Filter”
They were a very popular item, which we would sell for $20 a piece. They worked for Cinemax, Showtime and Encore but would not work for HBO. For HBO, the cable company installed a device that blocked the network and would have to do something in their office to enable the service.
It was during this time that I also became addicted to the act of being a “peeping tom.” There was a piece of my sexuality that was becoming awakened. My stepfather constantly had porn videos playing, or old fashioned pornographic magazines around. It wasn’t all about the sexual end of the spectrum for me however. It was about doing something I knew was wrong and the rush of adrenaline it gave me.
Those were the good times. That was when life was good and my innocence was being chipped away slowly. Then my stepfather came back, looking for my mother. I was actually spending the night at my best friends house when we heard a very loud clatter. It was him, he had driven back from Texas, pulling that camper he and my mom had lived in the entire time.
Soon enough, he had moved in with my mother and we moved into the apartment downstairs. It was “larger” according to the adults, but again I had a couch to sleep on and not much else. My clothes were kept in a cardboard box in the bedroom. The bathroom was so small that only 1 person could stand in it at a time.
The kitchen was straight out of the 1950’s, with metal cabinets and countertop. The stove looked like a 1959 Cadillac, with curves galore.
I had heard a tale from neighbors about that apartment. A trucker and his wife had lived there previously. He came back from a run to discover her in the act of cheating on him with another man. The neighbors said that he shot her in the head in the bathroom. There was a bullet sized hole that was covered by a piece of foam backed plastic and a couple of blood spatters high on the wall. I believe that story to be true.
Eventually tales of violence and sexual conquests would come back to the apartment, and they would leave their mark on me forever.
That summer, I had made a girlfriend of sorts. She lived by my best friend and we would talk here and there. Eventually we started talking on the phone a lot. We then began going to each others houses. There was one large difference between us however, she was 17 and I wasn’t 12 yet. Physically, I had the stature of a 17 year old, but wasn’t matured emotionally yet.
One night she came over, my stepdad filled her thoughts of being his secretary of his “company” that he ran (he always worked for himself, but was by no means rich), gave her alcohol and started massaging her. Before I knew it, they were in the bedroom, having sex. I couldn’t believe what was happening, right there basically in front of me. I was crushed on multiple emotional angles. I didn’t even know how to process it. When they finished, she came and offered to perform oral sex on me, but I wasn’t even sure what that was and I didn’t even want her near me. My stepdad paid for her to take a cab home, I never heard from her or saw her again. She and I had been playing “footsie” before everything transpired.
When school began, I was suddenly forced to realize how much of a different area I was in. There was originally two 6th grade classes, but one of the teachers quit. After multiple substitutes, we were finally provided with a teacher who was supposed to be there the rest of the year. I don’t know if she finished the year or not, because I was expelled from the school in October.
Before I get to how, I must explain why. Being the tallest kid in school, I became a target of anger from all of the other boys in my class, except for one who was oddly enough the smallest in the 6th grade class. He was one of the kids I befriended over the summer. I was chased, beaten and terrorized in and outside of school.
One day, while walking home from school the entire population of 6th grade boys followed me, in an attempt to beat me up. This was when I refused to be a victim any longer. My mother surprisingly showed up in an attempt to pick me up from school and witnessed this, along with the single friend I had made. As these boys were throwing rocks and other items at my back, I turned around and threw one of them into the path of a car. He almost got hit.
That however didn’t stop the attacks. A few days later, a group of them came with BB guns and knives, shooting up the apartment and bursting holes into every window. I grabbed the keys to my mom’s Dodge St. Regis and ran them down (no I didn’t run them over). I did however, run over their bicycles – all of them.
Those kids still weren’t deterred. My stepdad had bought me a cheap Daisy BB handgun. I carried it with me anywhere and everywhere I went after that. Anytime I saw one of those kids, I would shoot at them. I had hit a few of them, it’s aim wasn’t exactly precise.
Eventually, I decided to take that BB handgun to school with the intention of shooting everyone I could. The stresses from the horrible life I was living in addition to the constant attacks I was facing from the school (both students and administration) were more than I could bear.
So I loaded it up with all of the BB’s it could handle, and brought an extra tube of BB’s with me. I showed that friend I had made right before we made it to school. I was going to leave it in my backpack but chickened out and hid it in a bush instead. Someone saw this and reported it to the principal. Within an hour they had called the police and placed me under direct supervision.
The police talked to me about how that BB handgun looked like a real one, and how they would shoot someone with real ammunition if they saw someone with it. I was expelled from the school (Templeton Elementary School) but I was advanced to the 7th grade with only having 2 months of my 6th grade education. Much like the majority of educators in my life, they were just passing the buck.
When I got back home, my stepfather surprised me with a beating with a switch that I’ll never forget. I was then driven to Terre Haute to stay in Charter Hospital under lock down for the 2nd time in my life. This experience was much darker than the previous time. I was there for 3 weeks.
I don’t know if there were other complaints made about me to the police or what, but I was eventually put on probation for a term of 6 months. I distinctly remember my father taking me to the homes of each of the boys who’s bikes I had destroyed. He paid their parents for my destructive defense.
So, goodbye 1301 South Walnut. You brought a lot of misery to my life. While I certainly didn’t have a good time while being a resident of your neighborhood, you did leave memories and impressions on my life that I will carry with me to my dying day.
Postscript: That single friend I had made while in that school turned out to be the biggest bully of them all. His mother died when we were in middle school, and he was put into the foster care system. I eventually lost contact with him. It wasn’t until the age of Myspace and Yahoo! Profiles that we reconnected. It was great for the 11 year old me, who always appreciated how he stood by me when it felt like the world was against me. He eventually moved back to Bloomington, but lived a life on the edge. Sleeping on friends couches or making girlfriends just for a place to stay. I offered him my garage for anything, and did whatever I could for him. I even enlisted my dad’s AAA service when his car broke down. He constantly pressured me to let him stay at my home for free, but my wife at the time wouldn’t allow it. I eventually got divorced, and when I began dating again, he started harassing me about it. I had to block him on social media and cut him out of my life on the request of the police. He has a lengthy rap sheet, with multiple convictions but seems to always slide between the cracks of the justice system. Funny to call it that, as his first name is Justice. As of late, he began harassing people making comments on The Bloomingtonian’s Facebook page. The website is operated by an award winning photojournalist who is trying to keep local journalism alive. I’m happy he’s no longer in my life, but sad that he can’t let go of his own sadness enough to not bully and intimidate others.
I must say, even though I was aware of this pandemic from it’s beginnings, I was ill prepared for it. Something I’m not all too happy about.
I was raised learning how to care for myself in any situation. Fishing, hunting and basic living skills were drilled into me at an early age. Tools such as knives, firearms and trap making are something I have deep seated knowledge of as well.
But here I sit, with no real emergency supplies of food. No water reserves on hand, or portable water filtration systems to use ground water with. No real firearms except my trusty 9mm handgun.
Taurus PT111 Millennium G2
A weapon that was confiscated from me under Indiana red flag laws due to a zealous sheriff’s deputy. It was then returned to me, along with my lifetime permit to carry a firearm after tensions were eased with my ex-wife and legal processes were able to finalize.
It’s true, these items are not something I require at this moment. They are not daily needs for survival. We are but a couple of steps away from them being as such however.
After my divorce, my 2nd Amendment Rights were stripped from me for a period of 2 years due to a couple of reasons I will not disclose here. Once all of that was over with, and the state returned my “License to Carry Handgun.” I thought I would test this approval. So I went to a gun shop and bought what is called a Stripped AR Lower Receiver. This is the only part of an AR that is truly considered a weapon, and requires a background check to purchase.
I passed the background check, I was so happy. That was really the only reason I purchased it. To see if I could. I had no major interest in building an AR-15. I had no need for one.
A year later, an opportunity presented itself where I could purchase a complete AR-15 at a steal of a price from a different gun shop just down the road from me. I sent the guy the funds and went to do the background check as soon as I could. I was denied. Wait, what? I don’t understand? The store owner provided me with paperwork on how to figure out what was causing this and how to resolve it. So I proceeded.
I was now speaking with the Department of Justice and the FBI. (Hi there). In essence, they were saying that I was put on a list. One you can never be removed from. This list (actually a database) is what denies persons from purchasing firearms in this country. I provided them with all of the legal paperwork I had including court orders from a judge to have me removed from said database. That did not matter to them. They ended with essentially stating they were done speaking with me, and any further communications should be done through my state firearms division, leaving a department name and address.
So I started speaking to them, over their own encrypted email systems. According to them, there was no problem at all. That according to my state I have my 2nd Amendment Rights without question. I kept pushing and asking but have still to this day, not received a response regarding the issue with the DOJ and FBI.
As of right now, I am simply waiting until 2022 when I can officially request that all of the records of these events be expunged. Then I will attempt another firearm purchase.
I want to be crystal clear on this fact. I am not writing this with a political perspective, and I do not want my words to be used for any political means. I am giving my personal story of how these laws and databases have affected me personally.
The panic buying, the people not listening to their governments the hoarding made me realize I was not equipped to defend myself or my family should it come to that sort of situation. So I have begun building an AR-15 from that stripped lower I purchased a couple of years ago from a licensed FFL that required a background check.
I purchased a complete lower parts kit from Palmetto State Armory, a well known supplier of firearms and firearm parts. I started building last night, I have found it as interesting as enjoyable. I haven’t worked on weapons since I was a teenager and civil war re-enacted.
So far, I have only installed the Magazine Catch, Bolt Catch and Trigger assemblies. This unit has a trigger guard built in, which many do not.
I have found that I will need an armorer’s tool in order to torque the buffer tube correctly. But I should be able to assemble this lower without any other special tools. They help, but are not required.
Once finished, I will find a pre-built upper assembly to purchase, and this weapon will be complete. All parts simply delivered to my home. No background checks. In many ways, it’s like shopping on Amazon.
I can then begin to stock things to feel comfortable in a “end of the world” situation, like MRE’s, ammunition, and a water supply.
To some, preparing for the end of the world or society is something only crazy persons do. To me being prepared is never a bad thing.
It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m really trying to make a conscious effort to not keep up with writing my thoughts. It’s important, especially in times like the ones we are having now.
The entire world is now dealing with the effects of the COVID-19 virus. Infections and deaths are rising at a exponential level. It’s a situation I’ve never seen in my life. As a parent, it’s scary. As a person, it’s scary. As a survivor, I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this.
Last week, the governor of Indiana initiated a Stay-At-Home order. Indiana University has instituted it’s pandemic plans by extending spring break by a week and moving all learning to online. They have also asked that nobody come to campus unless it is absolutely necessary.
As of this writing, there are 22 confirmed positive cased of COVID-19 in Monroe county. I have been watching the numbers on a website the state setup. I expect that number to increase significantly over the next few weeks.
As a IT Professional supporting the School of Medicine in Bloomington, this situation has made work a very difficult task. In the weeks previous, I spent all of my time building new laptops and preparing my staff to work remotely, by giving them the information and tools they needed to keep working. Over the past few months, my remote support abilities have been all but taken from me, as I specialize in direct and personal support. I hope my leadership works on returning those soon.
IU has stated nobody will lose salary or PTO due to this situation, and I am greatly appreciative and grateful for this. Many right now are unemployed or have completely lost their jobs. However, since technology is everything now, I have been inundated. I take my job very seriously, and my faculty and staff need my help right now more than ever. I will not falter them in their time of need.
I am of a split mind when it comes down to how to look at this pandemic in the long term. In the short term, I am hunkering down with my girlfriend and her children. Sticking together and practicing this new term we have all come to learn called “social distancing.” My lifestyle is pretty much what social distancing is all about, so it does not bother me.
However, I feel carelessly unprepared for this. I keep no food at home. Also, if it becomes as crazy as the store shelves look out there, I don’t have the weapons to protect myself or my family. Yes, I am serious.
Regardless, I am a survivor. I was fortunate to have a childhood that gave me lots of gifts. I spent a lot of time on a family farm. Sure, my skills are rusty, but they are there. I can find a nice spot in the woods, build a shelter, hunt game and gather edible finds. That does not scare me.
I must say, we definitely have biblical signs of the last days upon us. First was the locust invasion in Africa. Now we have a worldwide pandemic that would have definitely been called a plague in times past.
I have ordered more parts for building a rifle. I am ordering cases of US Military MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), and will ensure I have portable water filter systems.
No matter what happens, me and my family will survive this. I only wish the rest of humanity the best as we struggle with a pandemic that hasn’t been seen since the Spanish Flu.
This weekend, I went back to battle on the rear end upgrades/maintenance on the IROC. After my experience last weekend, I had knowledge and skills I wasn’t equipped with the first time. I rented a caliper tool from the auto parts store I frequent, and it made the experience far better.
I started by swapping the drilled & slotted rotor as a mechanic had told me. After doing some research on the subject, I believed and agree with him. After posting an image on social media, another mechanic friend (whom I trust more) told me it was wrong, so I begrudgingly swapped it back. This also gave me an opportunity to use that tool I had rented, to ensure the slot in the caliper fit properly with the nub on the brake pad.
GM Delco-Morraine Brake Caliper
I then went to the passengers side, which is the oddest thing I have ever seen. The brake caliper is on the opposite side on the rotor. The manager at the parts store (who I’ve known since I was a kid) said it’s also common in some Ford pickup trucks.
So Odd
There was something in the way however. Due to this mirrored setup, the lower control arm was in the way. The bolts that hold the caliper on did not have enough space to be removed. So I unbolted it and got to work.
On my previous post I mentioned how the thought of replacing these lower control arms with new tubular ones really vexed my mind. My mind was reassured however, as the bushing on this one that connects to the axle was in really good shape. So I won’t be replacing them.
The rotor on this side was really rusted on. I had to beat it with a hammer for a good 10 minutes before I was able to get it fully off. That was the largest issue I faced.
I then replaced the shock on this side, which like the other side was the OE one and dead as a door nail. My daughter helped me with the first one, I was happy that I was able to do this one all by my lonesome.
Then it was just a matter of reconnecting that lower control arm, which required I do some fancy leg work with a jack to jack the axle up incrementally so the bolt hole would line up.
The drivers side has solid metal brake line, the passengers side has a short rubber brake hose. I’m going to change a spring in the proportioning valve that is supposed to increase the line pressure on the rear brakes. These cars are notorious for having what are essentially non existent rear brakes. This stops here for me. It will require my brakes be bled, which needs to be done. I’m just weighing as to whether I should change the hose and do the bleed myself or have a shop do it at this point. I’m always weighing my options, I don’t want to damage this car, or destroy something.
I just have to take care of the brake hose, bleeding/flushing of brake fluid & the sway bar bushings & end links and the rear will be done. For now anyway.
We had a nice day last Saturday, and I’ve got a pile of parts just waiting to be thrown on the ol’ IROC. My plan was to replace the rear brakes and shocks, but plans never turn out the way you want them to.
I’ve known this car since I was 7, but I’ve never dug into it’s systems and deep into what makes it work until now. My father wasn’t one to do much more than an oil change on his own. With the help of other men in my life, I learned how to do everything.
Friday evening, with my daughter’s assistance, we jacked the car up and put the rear on jack stands. I’ve been trying to involve her and the other children in my life on the processes required to restore this car. Automotive knowledge at a young age is a wonderful thing for children. I know I loved it.
My Office for the Day
After taking the wheel off, I discovered something. Something I had never seen in my lifetime of working on vehicles of all shapes and sizes. After doing some investigating, I have come to a theory. 1988 was a odd year for braking systems on this car.
All original
My findings, coming from internet based research on forums and YouTube have led me to believe the following. Pre-1989 if a Camaro had disc brakes in the rear the rear end was essentially the same as one that had drum brakes on it. The only difference is the backing plate and the addition of a caliper and rotor. The brake line is hard all the way to the connection on the caliper itself.
This car is a 1988, but built in October of 1987. 1988 was a good year, but it was also a year of lasts and firsts. It was the last year for the cold start injector, commonly called the 9th injector. But it was the first year for the L98, 5.7L TPI (which this car has). It was also the first year of the 1LE option, which is the rarest of the rare 3rd Generation Camaro. Only 4 were made that year. Starting in 1989, if your car had rear disc brakes, it had the 1LE aluminum PBR calipers, which were made in Australia.
My daughter helped me install the new driver’s side shock. The old one, in the picture above was the original, and did not function at all. Unfortunately, I only received 1 hardware kit from the 2 shocks I ordered. I reached out to the company who makes them. They have sent me another kit.
So I went back to work on these brakes. The rotors are warped, and I think the pads are glazed, causing braking to be difficult at best. I went to compress the rotor only to discover this is one that requires to be twisted like a screw to go back into place. I went to the parts store not once but twice, as the first tool I bought to handle this task was too small. The second one would fit – but alas the pattern would only hold 1 of the pivot points. I had to use a pair of channel lock pliers to manually twist the piston back into place. It was difficult at best.
The Rotor is on Backwards
I then put it all together. I bought drilled and slotted rotors to help compensate for the small brakes on this car. Many upgrade the brakes with systems from newer cars or from 3rd party manufacturers.
I later discovered that technically this rotor is on backwards. The angle of the slot should be in the other direction. The cooling vanes within the rotor are non directional however, which mitigates that issue. I am still pondering on changing it. If you notice there is a “L” sticker on the rotor, and this is the “L” side of the car.
By this time, it was 6pm. I was beyond tired and happy to have accomplished what I did. Then my mind got to thinking. There are lots of rubber parts there that are obviously worn out and need replaced. Do I go ahead and take care of this while I’m at it?
I purchased a set of sway bar end links and bushings as a package, the other parts are for the lower control arms and the panhard (sometimes called a track) bar. Unfortunately it seems like replacing the bushings on those OEM parts is more trouble and more expense than buying new tubular parts. So I am currently in a battle with my mind on what to do.
As a teenager, all I wanted to do is put these kind of parts on this car. Now, nearing 40 I don’t exactly want to. I want this car to have it’s original character, flaws and all. Decisions, decisions.
This is the 3rd part of my series in how I got rid of cable TV services. The first being here, and the second being here.
This part will focus on my high tech solutions for our high tech world. This isn’t the 1980’s anymore. Many don’t have TVs, or prefer to watch TV as they are on the go, using a mobile device of their choosing. Well guess what? I’ve got that covered.
For many years I’ve ran and operated a Plex server. I operate this server on my primary desktop computer with a NAS attached. All of my Plex content is stored on that NAS. When they were about to raise the price of their Plex Pass, a premium product they sell I purchased the lifetime option for $75. The easiest way to explain Plex to those not familiar with it is this, it’s like Netflix but you own the content. Plex can handle movies, TV shows, audio libraries and photos. They recently added podcasts, news and their own free streaming movies and tv series. It can also handle TV and DVR functions. It has a commercial removal capacity too, but I’ve had mixed results.
For Plex to be able to see that TV signal you will need a TV tuner however, and the one I went with is a HD Homerun Quatro. Many other tuners are supported however. I selected it as it gives you the ability to watch/record up to 4 programs at the same time.
HD Homerun also has their own applications you can use to watch from this tuner, and a paid DVR service. I use the app on my phone for diagnostic purposes.
Once you get it all connected, Plex will take you through a setup process and you will end up with a TV guide, much like this.
My custom guide
The one downside to Plex’s own built in abilities is that you can only use 1 of their pre-built guides. If you live between 2 TV markets, this makes things very confusing and hard. I am one of those people. So I chose the other option, an XML guide.
Through much digging I found a program called zap2xml that connects to either Zap2It or TVGuide (depending on your preference). With it, you can then create a TV guide that suits the channels you get reception for, or all of the areas you get reception for. I pickup stations in the Indianapolis, Louisville and Terre Haute markets. Plex has a built in Indianapolis-Louisville guide, but to add Terre Haute causes problems. This solves it. I essentially have the program run 3 times, once for each market. On each run it compiles the data into a single file that is then used for this guide. I update it daily.
With Plex, which has apps for all your favorite smart devices, computers, TVs, and streaming devices – I can watch anywhere I go. I regularly watch the news from my home while at my girlfriends house. Show coming on that you really want to watch but won’t be home? DVR it, or watch it on the go.
I really love this system and the setup I finally achieved. It took a lot of hard work, and numerous failed attempts before I reached a level I was satisfied with. But as I am, I’m never truly happy. I’m considering adding a second antenna to the mix to grab as many of those signals as I possibly can.
That’s a quote from Will Rogers, celebrated son of the state of Oklahoma.
My youngest daughter last spring break, at the state line.
Right now, my mind is on nothing else. With all of the stresses life has thrown at me, it’s time I get out of dodge and escape for a while.
It’s a trip I’ve made since before I can remember. My first memories of Oklahoma involve my first time flying. We boarded a TWA flight out of the old Indianapolis International Airport, with a connecting flight where we then boarded an Eastern Airlines flight. I don’t know where the connector was, but to this day there is no direct flight to Tulsa from Indianapolis. So I drive.
Depending on factors of children or others along on the trip, it typically takes between 8 and 12 hours. I know the route by heart, the road frees my spirit. It’s a big reason why I often considered being a truck driver when I was younger.
Don’t let the contrast fool you, this woman is a bodybuilder! I know her as my aunt.
I miss my aunts and uncles. They have a southern twang in their voice and hospitality in their hearts. My oldest cousin is having a birthday, he always looked up to my dad. I try my best to keep the traditions alive.
This is my American Gothic, and I cherish it tremendously.
One of my uncles will be receiving a gift of sorts too, the driver’s seat out of the Camaro. It is in need of repair, and he’s the man for all things upholstery in the area, and the only person I trust with such items. I’ll drive back sometime later to pick it up. I’ve done the drive in 48 hours before, I can do it again.
I think a week with these folks will do my heart and my mind well. The trappings of life have really gotten to me lately. Maybe this is why dad and I made so many trips when I was younger and he was my age?
