Mantling and Re-assembly: 1969 Karmann Ghia engine overhaul, part 3

Part of the fun of new experiences is that they can turn out quite differently from what you might have expected. When I posted Part 2 of this series, I thought I was going to take the cylinder heads and the crankcase from my Ghia to a local machine shop: The cylinder heads for a valve job, the crankcase to be examined for cylinder/piston wear. To make a short story shorter, that's not exactly what happened.

Remember I said that when I took off the clutch plate, I discovered the flywheel was loose? Well, it's not supposed to be loose, not even a little bit. The flywheel is attached to one end of the crankshaft, which is, you know, what makes your car go. What I found out was that, because the flywheel had been loose (and presumably getting steadily looser over time), the bearing that the crankshaft end goes through was no longer round. There was too much "play" because of the loose flywheel, beating up on the bearing to where it was, even to my untrained eye, slightly oval. At that point I wasn't surprised when the mechanic told me that the crankshaft itself, and the crankcase, were "probably toast". (I think he was trying to be diplomatic.)

So I asked him what my options were. The upshot was that he thought my best bet would be to shop for a good used engine. What would that cost? Well, he said, you could easily spend $1000 or more. He gave me a few tips on what to look for, and I sadly packed up my cylinder heads and went home.

Shopping was discouraging. The only used motors I could find that were a close enough match for my car were located out of state. Many were priced at over $2000. I put my own ad on Craigslist, saying I was looking for a motor for my Ghia.

The next day I was contacted my someone in Lake Stevens (not close but north of Seattle, not all that far away) who had a Volkswagen shop. He sold me a nice rebuilt longblock (the guts of the engine: crankcase, cylinders/pistons, heads and valves) for $400. The rest of the parts, distributor, carburetor, fan housing etc. from my old engine were still in good shape, so all I had to do was put it all back together.

New longblock with new crank pulley (center bottom) and oil cooler in place.

First I installed a new crank pulley. It's definitely an improvement on the old one, as this one has degree markings all the way around. When you adjust the valves or set the ignition timing, the engine is rotated half a turn at a time, so the marks make it easy to do this accurately. It is also made of aircraft-grade aluminum, which won't rust like the old steel one. This is better because a rusty pulley can eventually do bad things to your fan belt.

 Crank pulley showing timing marks.

Next I installed the generator, fuel pump, and generator stand. Then the heat exchangers. Piece by piece the engine shrouding went in. I had bought a new muffler as the old one had at least one noticeable rust hole. After the muffler came the intake manifold, with carburetor attached. Finally, the fan housing and generator slid into place over the oil cooler.

Re-assembled engine, just about ready to go back in!

Now all I need to do is install the fan belt (easier to do with the engine out of the car), double-check that spark plugs and all fasteners are tightened, hook up the new spark plug wires, and I'll be ready to put the engine back in the car. 

 

 The empty engine compartment.

 

New clutch throwout bearing in place; the doughnut-shaped thing in the middle.

The last thing I did was to replace the clutch throwout bearing (see photo above). I didn't even know (blush) that the clutch lived right at the junction of the engine and the transmission. Since I had the opportunity, I had replaced the clutch plate, which lives between the clutch pressure plate and the flywheel. 

Back of re-assembled engine: The round thing in the middle is the clutch pressure plate.

I've been pretty busy with other projects lately, like my first book, which is going to be published very soon now. So I have been taking my time with this project, sometimes not doing a thing on it while waiting for a new part to arrive. Still, I'm pleasantly surprised at how relatively quickly I took the thing apart and got it back together. In my next post, I'll list the time I spent, what I spent on parts, and hopefully, have some photos of my little car all put back together!

Stripping and dismantling: 1969 Karmann Ghia engine overhaul, Part 2

Well, here it is: the engine is out of my Ghia. I am pleased to report that I was able to get this far on my own. (David did help me jack the car up, though.) The engine, with all the stuff still attached as shown here, weighs something over 200 pounds. First, I had a piano dolly blocked in place under the engine. Two scissors jacks on the dolly were then raised to where they were in contact with the oil pan, to support the engine once it came off the upper and lower mounting bolts, which hold the engine onto the transmission. With one hand on the fan housing (the curved black box at the top center of the photo) and the other on one of the tailpipes, I carefully wiggled the engine off the bolts until it was resting on the jacks. I then lowered the jacks so the engine could be rolled out from under the car.

Now the engine stripping begins! This photo shows the engine after I took off the fan belt, fan housing, intake manifold and carburetor. The tall black skyscraper-looking thing is the oil cooler. I had suspected the oil cooler was leaking, and sure enough, one of the two seals at its base was bad. Since the cooler lives inside the fan housing, when it leaks, the fan tends to fling oil all over the engine area, hence my suspicion.

After I took off the oil cooler, I removed the muffler (the rusty-looking thing at the bottom of this photo) and the two heat exchangers. The weight of the engine was now down to around 150 pounds, and I rolled it on its dolly into the shed so I could get it up onto the Workmate and be under cover as well. Between David and I we had no problems lifting it up onto the Workmate.
 

So here's the stripped-down engine, up at a good working height. What you're looking at in the middle of this photo is the clutch plate, which is attached to the flywheel. On either side are the cylinder heads with valve covers still in place. next job is to remove the clutch plate and the pressure plate under it, then the flywheel.

With the clutch removed, I used this nifty little flywheel lock to clamp the flywheel in place prior to removing the large gland nut that attaches the flywheel to the crankshaft. At this point I had a surprise: The 36mm gland nut, which is supposed to be torqued to 220 foot-pounds, was actually loose. I had expected to need a breaker bar and someone stronger and heavier than me to loosen the thing. Instead, after barely a quarter turn with the socket wrench, I was able to unscrew it the rest of the way by hand.

Aha, I thought. I bet the ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk noise I was hearing (thinking this was a thrown connecting rod) was coming from this loose flywheel. The good news is I took the thing apart before the flywheel came all the way off. The bad news is that, because of the way the thing was wobbling around in there, I'll almost for sure have to replace the crankshaft. No doubt I'll have a list of things to take to the machine shop.

In the meantime, I next removed the rocker arm assemblies and cylinder heads. The rocker arm is the pipe thing going from left to right, with four little arms attached. Here I've removed the two nuts holding it in place. Then it is simple to lift the assembly up and out.

After the rocker arms are out, the eight nuts holding the cylinder head in place are easy to reach and loosen. Here you can see I've taken off one of the cylinder heads (on the bench to the right). Toward the top center of the photo, the round black things are two of the four cylinders, with pistons inside. The only thing left to do before opening up the crankcase is to remove the cylinders and pistons.

I was fortunate to discover a shop in Port Angeles (about half an hour away) that specializes in air-cooled Volkswagen repair. I will be taking the cylinder heads there to have the valves done (something I do not have the specialized equipment to do). They will also check the flywheel for possible damage, since it was loose, along with the crankshaft. After that, I will be able to start putting it all back together!

The thing that has surprised me the most about this project is that I have only spent about seven hours so far. Considering I had never done anything like this before, I'm kind of amazed that it has seemed so relatively easy. I've been taking my time, too.

I'll have another update after the machine shop does its work. I'm starting to think I'll be driving my Ghia again before long! What a fascinating project.

1969 Karmann Ghia engine overhaul project, Part 1: I don't know I can't, therefore I can

 My 1969 Karmann Ghia, up on the ramps. Isn't she gorgeous?

A couple of weeks ago, my Karmann Ghia broke down while I was on my way to Portland. Fortunately it happened just as I was pulling up to the toll bridge on the west end of the Tacoma Narrows bridge, so I was able to get it out of traffic without much trouble. I happened to have one of my VW repair manuals with me, so I amused myself, during the 3-1/2 hour wait for the tow truck, by reading it and trying to figure out what had happened.

I'll skip over the troubleshooting process (you're welcome, gentle reader) and come right to the diagnosis: a thrown connecting rod. The oil cooler was leaking and definitely needs to be replaced as well, but the connecting rod is a bigger deal to repair. Not that I've ever done it myself, mind you, but I do realize that since the connecting rods (there are 4 of them in my Ghia) are inside the crankcase, it's going to take some work to get at the things to replace them. On the Ghia you can replace the oil cooler without pulling the engine out, but this is sadly not true if you are actually going to dismantle the engine.

A little background: I am not a "trained" mechanic, although I seem to have an aptitude for mechanical things. Virtually everything I know about working on cars I've learned by reading and practical experience. This is the second Karmann Ghia I've owned; the first was a 1970 coupe that I had for 11 years. I did a lot of work on that thing, including a complete re-wiring job. I also learned how to do things like adjust the valves and replace a muffler and heat exchangers.

I bought this 1969 specimen 5 years ago. It was in much better shape when I bought it than my 1970 Ghia was. Still, considering the car is almost as old as I am, naturally I don't expect it to never need work. On the other hand, in the 5+ years I've had it, it's only been in the shop once, for a leaking brake line, for which I spent about $125. I've been lucky enough to be able to deal with what few repairs it's needed, as well as the usual maintenance chores. This car has been super-reliable, it gets 31 mpg, and I just love her.

So, back to the current situation. While I was awaiting the arrival of the tow truck, I read through the entire procedure for removing, dismantling, mantling and re-installing the engine. At the end of it I thought, hey, why not? It would be a good time to learn, and who knows? It might even be fun!

At this point, I am just about ready to remove the engine. I've done all the electrical and mechanical disconnect stuff in the engine compartment. I've been under the car and disconnected the heater cables and fuel line, and removed the two lower engine mount nuts. Now I need to mount a piece of 2x4 with a couple of lengths of chain around the frame to support the transmission once the engine is detached. After that, all I need to do is take out the two upper mount nuts, and the engine should be ready to come out.

I gather the engine weighs around 200 pounds. I'm not going to be lifting it out of the engine compartment. Instead, I am going to block the car up a little higher than it is now on the ramps, and lower the engine with two scissors jacks onto a piano dolly. Then I can simply roll it out from under the car. (We put down a sheet of plywood under the back end of the car, so the dolly won't sink into the ground with that weight on it.)

Believe it or not, so far I have only spent about an hour and a half on this process. I can't help but think that if I can do this, anyone can. Yes, even women! I think it would be so great for women to be more actively involved in the maintenance and minor repairs of their cars; it's really not that scary. Actually I find it quite a confidence-builder. I'm a problem-solver kind of person, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of figuring things out and fixing them when I can.

Regarding the procedure for removing the engine, my Bentley VW manual says: "Some parts of this process may be difficult for a man working alone." Well, I guess it's a good thing that I'm not a man working alone, then.

My Ghia's license plate frame; words to live by, eh?

Update on distillery license process

In late January, while I was in the thick of finishing the first draft of my soon-to-be published book (Pure Poultry), I received an e-mail from an inspector at the WA State Liquor Control Board. The gist of the message was that the WSLCB is ready to grant me a Craft Distillery License, on one condition: That I submit a copy of my Federal Basic Permit.

Alas, I have not yet received this permit. Earlier in January, I received a packet of forms from the TTB (the Alcohol Tobbaco Tax & Trade Bureau, formerly the ATF). I had submitted a package of forms in December, thinking that I had completed all the forms needed for the Federal Basic Permit. I had dutifully downloaded and filled out every form that the TTB web site said was required for this permit. Still, according to the somewhat terse cover letter that came with this latest stack of forms, I apparently failed to provide quite a lot of stuff.

At the time, I really couldn't deal with it. David and I were both sick with a nasty flu, and I was trying to figure out how I was going to get my manuscript, the organic certification renewal, and my business taxes done by the end of January. So I put the whole packet aside and promised myself I wouldn't look at it again until I had turned in my book manuscript.

I turned in the manuscript on February 14. The same day, I finished my business taxes (the deadline was extended to the 15th because of a Dept. of Revenue mixup) and got that mailed. Then, and only then, did I turn my attention back to the government paperwork for my little distillery.

At this point, I am pretty sure I am done with all the required forms. Now I just have to make about a thousand copies of everything (some forms they want in duplicate, some in triplicate; I feel like sending them extra tax money this year so they can install their own copiers). They even want a photocopy of both David's and my driver's licenses. Oh, and a bond, believe it or not. Apparently someone has spent a lot of time figuring out ways to guarantee the government will still get its liquor tax money if my tiny, tiny distillery should go out of business.

That's about it for now. I will probably be using a week's worth of grocery money just to ship this massive package of forms, but I will do it. I am so close now to getting the license that I have been working toward since last November! More updates as they become available...

Getting in touch with my inner hillbilly

I suppose it was inevitable that we would be making whiskey. It couldn't possibly be coincidence that our property includes a large natural peat bog. Those of you who are partial to Scotch whisky will know what that means. The unique flavor of Scotch comes from two sources: the malted grain is dried over a peat fire, imbuing it with a slightly smoky aroma. Also, the peaty water from the bog is believed to add another layer of complexity to the flavor profile.

(If you've noticed two different spellings of "whiskey", give yourself a gold star! For reasons that remain unclear, this tipple is spelled "whiskey" when it comes from Ireland or the United States, and "whisky" when it's made in Scotland and Canada. So please resist the urge to e-mail me with your proofreading tips.)

So what, you may well ask, have we been waiting for? If we had started making whiskey the first year we were here, our first batch would be almost 7 years along by now. Actually, we talked about it from time to time, but for various reasons it didn't seem feasible. For instance, a few years back, the only license available in Washington State for distillers cost $2,000 per year. Now there are several options, depending on the size of the operation, whether the product would be sold wholesale or retail, etc. I recently applied for a Washington State "craft distillery" license, for which I paid $100. This license permits me to produce up to 60,000 GALLONS of liquor per year. As far as sales, I am allowed to sell only retail, the customer must purchase from the place of manufacture, and I can't sell more than 2 liters per customer per day. Oh, and I have to report sales monthly and collect and pay applicable taxes.

In case you weren't aware, there are actually two licenses required to legally distill liquor: The aforementioned State license, and the Federal Basic Permit. (Incidentally, if you think there is a lot of paperwork involved in organic certification, you'll be impressed by the Federal Basic Permit process.)

So far, so good. Actually at this point I have no serious thoughts about selling whatever booze we make. It's not as if I have full-time hours to put into this operation, and the still I'm building probably wouldn't produce 60,000 gallons a year if it was running 24/7. At the moment I'm fascinated by the actual distillation process (which involves a lot of science I never learned in high school), and certainly I'm motivated by the challenge of learning this craft.

Please note that I have no intention of producing moonshine. No self-respecting moonshiner would be caught with a license, for one thing. Also, my still is a high-separation fractionating type capable of producing vodka and gin; from all I hear, moonshiners traditionally prefer to take their chances with pot stills. These don't separate the components (some of which are poisonous) as well as fractionating stills. And frankly, I have not the least inclination to age my booze in Mason jars, tradition notwithstanding.

As my husband David says, when it all hits the fan, what everyone is going to want to know is, what are we drinking? (Those of you watching the Mayan calendar, keep in mind that there are only 26 shopping days until the end of the world on December 21.) Distilled liquor is high enough in alcohol to ensure that it will never go "bad." Homegrown food is all very well, but we're on the brink of raising the bar in our quest for greater self-sufficiency.

OK, now that you've read this far, I'll admit this was a little tongue in cheek. However, it is true that we will soon be running a licensed craft distillery. And since I recently started making my own tonic water, I figure if I can grow Key limes in my greenhouse, I'll be able to serve a truly homemade gin and tonic one of these days. So stay tuned for updates as we progress, plus photos and even a recipe or two. Cheers!

My first try at making a gluten-free sourdough bread

For a while now, I've been developing a gluten-free sourdough starter. I didn't even know if such a thing were possible. Not that considering possibilities (or lack thereof) ever stopped me from trying something new. I recently learned of Manini's, a Seattle company that makes several gluten-free bread mixes, as well as a fabulous gluten-free pasta mix. I bought a bag of "Rustic Multigrain" bread mix and decided to try using it as the base for a sourdough starter.

The reason why I went to the trouble of making the starter is kind of simple and kind of complicated. In one of my bread books (the one that goes into a lot of scientific detail about what makes good naturally fermented bread), I learned that certain kinds of acid have an effect on the starches in bread grains. This led me to wonder if the acidity of a sourdough starter might have a beneficial effect with gluten-free flours.

After almost two weeks of nursing the starter along, I decided that it was ready to use. The other day I mixed up enough dough for a loaf, adding about 1/2 cup of starter. I'm used to the long, slow, cool fermentation of true sourdough, and I let the dough rise slowly for about four hours at around 65F. (With any bread, you don't want it to rise too quickly before it goes in the oven; the yeast loses much of its rising power and you won't get the dramatic "oven spring" that characterizes good bread.)  Into the oven it went at 375F to bake for almost an hour.

 And here it is! Looks a lot like "regular" bread, doesn't it? It has a nice crispy, brown crust and delicious aroma. When it cooled I weighed it; 3/4 kilo (1 lb 12 oz). Definitely more substantial than most commercial gluten-free breads I've tried. I was good and waited for the bread to cool before I sliced into it, all the while wondering what the texture and flavor were going to be like. I could hardly believe that my first attempt would have good results, but actually it turned out really well. As you can see in the photo below, the texture is like "real" bread. It has an interesting flavor, being a combination of several whole and ground grains. I haven't tried it toasted yet but I suspect it will be even more tasty.

By the way, Manini's pasta mix is amazing. I mixed up a batch using our duck eggs, and made fettuccine noodles with it. At first it was a little tricky to put it through the rollers, but with every pass it held together better and got smoother. It cooked up in about 3 minutes and it was simply delicious. It looks, smells and tastes like, well, fresh pasta.

In case you're wondering, I'm not gluten-free myself, but my mother and a few other people I know are. We like to try to accommodate dietary preferences when we have guests, plus I think bread and pasta would be the two things I'd miss most if I were going gluten-free. And as you know, I love baking bread! I've had it in mind for quite some time now to try making a decent-tasting gluten-free bread, and thanks to Manini's, I think I've made a good start.

Behold the Canyon Creek Farms chili dog!

Chili dog with cheese and onions on a homemade ciabatta roll.

As you know, I've been working hard this year learning to make artisan-type breads, mostly the naturally leavened kind made with sourdough starters. One of the interesting breads I've been making lately is the Italian ciabatta. It's a challenging dough to work with as it's very wet: the baker's percentage is 85% hydration. After it's risen it literally pours onto your board for shaping; it's almost the consistency of pancake batter. The first time I made it I could hardly believe it was going to turn into something edible in the oven.

I first looked up this recipe (in Daniel Leader's book Local Breads) when my husband David asked me if I could make some hot dog buns. He had bought a package of kosher buns at a local natural foods store, and by the day after he brought them home, they were already visibly moldy. So on the spur of the moment, I thumbed through Local Breads and found the recipe for ciabatta rolls and decided to try it.

The soft, wet dough baked up, in 20 minutes or so, into lovely soft, moist, slightly chewy, open-textured buns. David likes Hempler's uncured hot dogs (no nitrates), which are pretty enormous, and I sized the buns to fit them. The really great thing, though, was that even when we piled on the homemade chili, grated cheddar cheese and onions, the buns didn't fall apart. This might have been the first time I ever ate a chili dog without having to resort to using a fork (or even a spoon). Oh man, was that ever good.

I've made these ciabatta rolls several times now, and they've been consistently delicious. And, kept in a Ziploc bag once they're cool, they stay fresh for 3 days (not that they last that long around here). 

I really do love baking bread, and David, who's very particular about bread being fresh, appreciates not paying premium prices for bread that's practically stale. I'm steadily working my way through pretty much the whole Local Breads book, so stay tuned for more of my baking adventures!