The air conditioning doesn't

Condition the air, that is. The vents never blew cold from when I bought this wagon last year but I've got a mind to diagnose and fix it myself, since I'm an idiot and don't know when I'm in over my head. See, in my mind, everything that shipped when the car was new should work. So that's why I'm working on it.

Behold the majesty.

I can't find anything about this specific model of compressor, or even much as applies to this specific application. I'm going off the fact that the engine is an Oldsmobile-manufactured, 307 cubic inch (5-liter) engine and that Papa GM built many badge-engineered cars that don't have many significant mechanical differences. I think this radial-type Harrison compressor was the fashion at the time, as well.

Luckily, I have the shop manual that contains a really easy to follow flowchart of tests to diagnose the various climate control problems.

The first test was to check if the compressor was cycling (that it was getting the on/off signal to work). With the engine running, setting the A/C to normal and full-cold temperature setting and just watch to see if it's engaging or not. Mine wasn't, of course. So on to the next step.

Is the clutch physically capable of engaging? This is tested by taking some jumper leads directly from the battery and touching the electrical connectors on the compressor. Normally, when the compressor isn't... compressing... the pulley simply spins (free-wheels) on the shaft, turned by the compressor belt run by the engine. The clutch assembly is partly a big electromagnet that, when engaged, makes the compressor work. With the engine off, I connected the battery to the compressor and proceeded to did stupid thing.

Having reversed the connectors, I shorted the wires and blew up the diode on the wire harness and was gifted a pair of hot hot wires for a half a second before I could tug them away. From the image above you can see the thin leads where the diode used to be.

Sans stupid, I check the correct orientation and the clutch popped in and out with a satisfying thunking noise. You can see the clutch on the outside of the compressor move when it's jumped from the battery, so there's no mistaking that it works. The compressor belt wasn't torn up or worn down, so I don't think it was seized, but the next test was to look at the actual refrigerant pressure in the system.

According to the shop manual and my googling, the A/C system has a pressure switch that will prevent the system from engaging at low pressure. The refrigerant contains an oil that lubricates the moving parts of the compressor and helps prevent premature wear. If there's low or no pressure, the system will damage itself because there's no oil moving through the passages.

Here's where we get into the risky business and how I ended up in a pickle.

FFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU--

So I go out of my way to buy a tool (from the cheap tool store that shall remain nameless) that I probably will only use once and get down to checking the refrigerant pressure. First SNAFU: cars manufactured before 1994 (-96?) used Refrigerant-12 colloquially known by the brand name Freon. Then the hole in the ozone layer really became a thing and after that year, most every vehicle shipped from the factory with new environmentally friendly (friendlier?) Refrigerant-134a. This new formula of 11 herbs and spices doesn't cause as much damage to the atmosphere and still has decent cooling properties as a refrigerant gas. Older vehicles, like this wagon, could still be serviced with R-12 if they were originally equipped with it, or they could be retrofitted for R-134a (not recommended).

Since those days, R-12 is now tough to find at close to prices humans can afford, economically and morally. You can't go to your local parts store and pick up a can of this stuff like you do with R-134a, though you can buy cans from various dealers on the internet or imported from other countries that have fewer fucks to give than us. The irony is that R-134a is scheduled to be retired in 2020, so we'll have the same thing happen slowly with cars made in the past 20 years, too.

I digress. So the old systems have different fittings for their pressure hoses in order to idiot-proof the possibility of contamination with other refrigerant systems. I purchased a retrofit kit what contains new R-12 -> R-134a fittings and proceeded to install them so as to accurately check the pressure with this A/C manifold tool. That's when we skipped over TARFU and went right to FUBAR. See above.

This is the high pressure side fitting, broke threads clean off while I was torquing the fitting on the old aluminum. The little schrader valve spring sticks out and is basically destroyed. The good part of this was that there was no pressure and the lines were completely dry, so nothing was released into the wild to upset the delicate ecosphere. But now I'm in a special place where the car literally has no air conditioning, not just that it's in need of refrigerant, but mechanically; parts have broken the fuck off. 

The real kicker is that this particular part is all one piece of A/C service line that connects from both high and low sides to the compressor via an aluminum manifold. I'm on the case looking for a replacement!

Hang in there, baby.

How many (miles of vacuum hose) must a man walk down?

Oh, boy. I knew there was some spaghetti under the hood of this car, but until I did some research into the actual components connected to that string-theory of an engine I didn't really know.

To be inexact, the Oldsmobile, 307 cubic-inch, electronically carbureted (sounds stupid when you say it) engine has 25 or more feet of hose (of various sizes) under the hood. That's an estimate based on the amount I've used to replace some of the most cracked and worn hose plus a guesstimate of the remaining hoses. It's a lot. And they're not in friendly places to reach, either.

I wanted to get into this because a) the car is 28 years old and, shit, something probably leaks somewhere, b) I don't know what's already been done by the previous owner, c) it's disgusting ugly under there, d) there were some interesting things going on with the idle and stalling after the engine had been stopped and started hot, then finally e) I wanted to understand the how and why all the hose was there in the first place. Y'know, really understand the vacuum diagram posted on the radiator cowl and what each component is and does. This new learning will help when I have to take it all off later trying to replace head gaskets, intake manifolds, and valve covers later....

Also, side note: I was quoted by a professional restoration shop for body work and repainting of everything. Top to bottom, rust repair, refinish, clear coat; the works. $15,000. The very awesome dude said (and I paraphrase here), "I wouldn't recommend doing all that though. I would focus on the major trouble spots that will cost you down the line." These 'trouble spots', as he called them, included the roof, hood, and the bumper filler on the rear quarter. The recommended option was to keep as much original as possible to retain value on the vehicle for future sale. I agree, but not for the value reason. Simply because they quoted only $3000 for that work.

Anyway, the dialogue between me and this engine compartment begins. I'll try to include photos of the process below. Safety not guaranteed. I have only done this once before.

The suspens(ion) is killing me

I feel like I've been out in the jungle for two weeks, surviving on scraps and making do with crude tools I've manufactured from sticks and leaves. Then every so often I find a small cache of good luck and it keeps me going for another day or two.

Working on the front end of this wagon (or any car, I assume) is time-consuming and terrible without the proper tools. If I'd known then that I would make good use of an air hammer and a specific joint separator tool, I might have been done inside of a week. As it stood, I only just finished all four ball joints and both sides of complete tie rod ends last weekend. Happy 4th of July, indeed.

The first problem came up shortly after I lifted the car and took the wheel off. Actually, the trouble started when I popped the boot on the factory upper ball joint on one side when filling it with lube. Later, it turned out that the factory joints are riveted to the control arm and necessitated the use of the air chisel and then a punch to knock out all four rivets.

At first I tried using a cold chisel and a BFH, but I may have ended up insane for the noise and I could have carved a life-size replica of Michelangelo's David for the time it would have taken me. Air hammer and chisel later, done in 20 minutes.

Removing the joint itself was another obstacle. I banged on that poor control arm for the better part of two hours, prying at it with a bar, and finally I decided to try jacking up the spring assembly itself to get the weight of the knuckle to help me break it loose. With some jiggery and shuffling of my other jackstand, it finally popped out.

Now, I thought I was the cool kid for doing one of four joints after getting the new one on and torquing everything down, even as far as getting the cotter pin in. Boy, if I'd known then that leaving it apart would make getting the bottom joint out much easier... The ball joint press I borrowed from big daddy O'Reilly barely fits in between the control arms as it is, never mind fighting the knuckle itself out of the way. Working on the joint with the press was a big accomplishment once it finally broke loose. It really requires you to crank the screw to get it out, even with a box wrench "extension" (two wrenches locked together). I was reasonably worried I would break the, a) ball joint, b) press, c) the wrenches, or d) all of the above. Turns out, it was fine.

Getting the new lower joint in, however. To hell with that flaming garbage. First it doesn't want to seat, then I don't have four hands to hold it in place while I get the press in place, then it seats at an angle and makes the press do weird things. After struggling with it for a day (yes a whole godforsaken day), I was able to get it seated mostly straight enough that it straightened out while pressing it beautifully. I make it sound so simple here, like it was a boom-pop-twist-click and done. Not so. Even after I did one side, the other side was still a pain to press in. Beware.

So while I was under there doing ball joints, taking out the tie rod joint from the knuckle made moving things and access much easier. But then I said, "Why the hell wouldn't I just get new ones while I'm down here with everything pulled apart and I'm covered in grease and my handshurtand I'velostthefocusofthisprojectohgodwhatcouldIpossiblygetmyselfinto." Seriously. That's how my inner monologue sounds.

Anyway, the joint was trashed, totally sloppy, so I broke them loose with a sweet little tool from Harbor Freight. It's like 20 bucks, but it had some wicked good reviews and most importantly, It Works(tm). Popped the joints right out, got the new parts from papa O'Reilly for much more than 20 bucks, and installed them remarkably easily. Actually I think the tie rods were easier to take out than putting in. I might have been much more frustrated with them if I had tried to replace just one tie rod because the adjusting sleeve that connected the inner and outer was just rusted junk. To my credit, replacing both was the much better route, and the nigh 30 year old car needed them anyway.

I moved on to the other side which only took about two days, working after my usual job for a few hours until I couldn't stand not being able to see in the dark. To shorten an already longer update, the important wearing parts are new and the ride is much tighter now. I do need to do an alignment, however, or at least adjust one of the tie rods. It seems to pull somewhat to the right.

Brakes are still great and I still love this car. I need to get an estimate on some surface rust and paint job....

The real story starts now

Not mine exactly, but another B-Body station wagon (Caprice)

A few days ago I started working on a 1989 Buick LeSabre. A station wagon, to be exact. I adore these GM cars, but not for mechanical or performance reasons. Probably from the days of riding in one all the way Up North to Sleeping Bear or decorating one for the 4th of July parade, or first learning to drive on one. Who can say?

Anyway. I have one. And it's mine. It will be beautiful. It will be glorious. It will not have vacuum leaks, bad brakes, an oil leak, sagging suspension, and a host of other maladies to sap my liquid assets (spoilers: it will). 

Luckily, it doesn't have many power features or body damage, and the rust is minimal. A new paint job ($$$) and it'll look like new. I actually like that it doesn't have a roof rack or "luxury" features like power windows or anti-lock brakes (What happened to pumping the brakes and driving slowly in the snow? It worked for our great-grandfathers!). I think the most modern feature is the cruise control, which I haven't had the heart to function test yet.

I digress. The first, easy thing I wanted to look at was the air intake gasket over the carburetor. Yes, CAR-bur-rey-tor. When I first changed the air filter (the old one was super-gross, btdubs), I noticed the nigh-complete disintegration of the old gasket. I later tried to cut a filter from some gasket paper nonsense, mostly free-hand with part of the old, stretched gasket as a template. It fit. Kinda. With help. Anyway, it's not perfect, but I'm hoping it does the job. I actually haven't had a chance to drive it since then because of other work I'm doing.

The brake warning light came on (future-tech!) and I wanted to check all the joints and brakes anyway. So into the garage and onto the lift it goes. More on the lift later.

Long story short, both rear wheel cylinders leaking, shoes worn almost completely, and front discs are pitted, but not terrible. The master cylinder was half empty from the leaking rears. I started by removing all the great, fun stuff that drum brakes conceal.

I was actually stoked that they came right off without a lot of grunting or heaving on my part. The car was used for a business (funeral home. Rad.) with relatively low miles for the age and garaged most of its life. I guess that says something about how much you love your vehicle. Or that the brakes were just that bad.

Once the drums were off, they didn't look terrible, but the insides were a mess. I think they'd been leaking since the drive back to Michigan, or had recently started when the warning light came on. Plenty of muck and lots of fluid contamination. To the parts store!

I came back from O-Reilly with new pads, fluid, hardware, and cleaner. I also came back with two of the WRONG wheel cylinder parts. I also found out that nobody knows how to turn brake drums anymore. Also that my drums were technically out of spec and not able to be turned, but that the guy at the store across town who could do it did me a favor anyway. Great staff at that location. A nice, old, Santa-bearded guy that owns a Skylark works there. 

Totally not my fault that I got the wrong wheel cylinders. The LeSabre V8 they have in the O-Reilly database isn't a station wagon, which I think makes the big difference. Bolts in the wrong locations and too small. I did a search for a comparable model, an '89 Pontiac Safari wagon and the right part came up. 1" bore wheel cylinder, everything lines up great! Gotta love 'dem GM B-Bodies.

Between getting these new parts and the next day, I should impart a word to the wise regarding the Ranger brand QuickJack. I know it says it right in the manual, but do NOT, repeat, NOT put the lifts at any angle other than parallel, or as close as humanly parallel possible. Bad things will happen. The laws of physics dictate the path of motion the vehicle will travel, and an object in motion will tend to travel in the same direction as the force that acted on it until it encounters another force. Basically what I'm saying is, the car will twist on the jacks if they're pointed in a V-shape. I had this experience, not realizing that they were so far off kilter that they weren't parallel anymore. I was focused on getting the lifts under the car on the frame without realizing that the points I was using weren't parallel to each other on the other side of the car. I'm not happy with my oversight. 

When I realized this, I was starting to do an oil change since I was waiting for the parts the next day. I happened to look at the jack blocks with my head under the car and said, out loud, "Fuck me, that shit doesn't look right."

Nearly an hour and a half later, with the missus helping, we tweaked, floor jacked, and traditionally jack-stood the car until I could get it back on the ground safely. 

If I'd known then what I know now, I would have put all four wheels back on the car (they were all off at the time) and lowered it easily to reposition. Instead, I dicked around and nearly broke something, including myself. My heart palpitations grew three sizes that day.

Anyway, tonight, we got the parts and I learned a few things about how not to change brake springs. Again, with the missus helping, we jammed the shoes back on, slapped the adjuster plate and screw in, then finagled the springs onto their bolts. Later this evening, I looked up how to actually use the brake spring tool I own... correctly...

Tomorrow it's on to the driver's side, armed with new knowledge. A job that has taken over 48 hours on the passenger side will probably take only 30 minutes this time. Life is a cruel teacher, giving the test before the lesson.