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1964 Corvair Monza - Operation Crustbuster

27K views 168 replies 23 participants last post by  rodnok01 
#1 · (Edited)
Alright, So some of you know that I have been working on something very dangerous. Something unsafe... at any speed. Well, I figured I may as well share my progress with you guys here.

A few months back Stingroo and I were playing Forza motorsport, and an update came out which included the Corvair. I immediately was drawn to the vehicle, and playing with it from the seat of my ultra high-tech prosche simulator box, I fell in love with it. Roo recalls me asking "why do people hate these cars so much?" To which he replied "Ralph Nader." At that point I went offline.



Well, then in real life, literally less than 48 hours later. I showed up with this.



I found it in Merrit Island, just west of Cocoa beach. Rotting away on the side of the road with a bunch of stickers in the window. "1964 CORVAIR MONZA CONVERTIBLE. NEEDS CARBS CLEANED AND GAS TANK DRAINED." I spoke with the chap who owned it, he had told me it wouldn't crank over. I had brought my go-bag with all kinds of test equipment, enough to make any vehicle within reason start. I show up, and I say "I want to test it." He looked at my blankly, and said "well there's no battery." To which I replied, "I brought a jump box, let me see the key." At that point he hands me a small masterlock padlock key. I look up at him, expecting him to laugh at the joke he just made. He didn't. I said 'this is the key?" "Yes that is the only key the car came with." Much to my surprise, I put it in the ignition, attempted to turn it, and miraculously, it wouldn't do a thing! Because it is not a padlock. It is a car. It was heavily rusted in some parts, great in others. Everything was there. All I had to go on when I got the car was a title and a good feeling, so we negotiated, and I put it on a flatbed and took it home.



First thing I did was break into the car and take the locks out, then take them to an antiquities locksmith. To my great pleasure, all the cylinders matched! One key did everything. Over the next few days I found that the gas tank didn't need to be drained at all! God had taken care of that for me, through the miraculous combined efforts of corrosion and gravity! I sprayed starting fluid (I call it 'special juice') into the intake manifolds, after replacing the battery, turned the key, and it sputtered and twitched. This was a good sign. After patching the tank, and rebuilding the cars' two single barrel carburetors, re-did the fuel lines, and cranked the engine over, with a bit of prayer. It started!!!! Then stopped. I found it would stay alive at high RPM's. So I pull the vacuum advance, and it died immediately. Clearly timing was to blame. I re-timed the engine using the "old fashioned" method (left till it pings, then right a bit.) and the car ran like a top!



After that, I went to go take it for a ride. Filled up the brake fluid, let out the clutch, and she carried along fine! Then I... well... hit the brakes. Yeah... After some creative engine braking and swearing and cursing, I got the car back into my driveway. It was pissing brake fluid from all the lines. New brake lines were $200! So I said to myself, "Know what's less than that? A roll of tubing." So I spent my free time the next couple days under the car with a flaring tool and a line bender, and completely re-plumbed it. Bled it, and bam! Brakes. With some more tuning, I had the car going like a scalded cat! I was commuting with the little scamp already, and it was loving every moment of it, and getting 24MPG in the process!




However there are still issues. There is quite a bit of rust on this car. The floor pans are SHOT, and the rockers are on their last legs. This being GM's first unibody car, those are the main structural components of the vehicle, which cause things like the doors being very difficult to close, especially with the convertible top down.



I ordered some new floor panels and other bits, and drove the car over 200 miles to my body guy, who has agreed to take on the body project. (The car was a champ the whole ride, by the way. It did vapor lock after I sat in traffic for a while, though. I was too lazy to insulate fuel lines. Lesson learned.) I am planning on connecting the car's two subframes, making the body much more solid. I expect this to greatly improve handling. As of right now, the car is with my body man, who is doing the welding, patching, and metalwork. This is the latest photo I have of the progress.

 
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#123 ·
Oh Jeez. So much has happened. I will have to upload the photos later. Ray (Stingroo) and I actually wound up driving to North Carolina to check out the red car. It really checked out in person. All the body work was solid and the car looked great. I made a deal on it and arranged for it to be transported. When I got it up on the lift, though. I saw where the good body work stopped. The floor. However, everything else was SUPER solid, fresh work, done by inmates in a North Carolina correctional facility. I have been working with a hostile shop owner that let me use his lift, presumably in exchange for free labour and endless drama. Oh, and the guy who sold me the car lied about pretty much everything on it. I was told I was getting a 110hp 4 speed car. I wound up with a 95hp 3 speed car. I am going to keep the 95hp engine, as they actually develop power a LOT earlier than 110 engines. I sourced a 4 speed trans though.
 
#128 ·
Ralph Nader's organization once sued my mother and Sunkist Growers for using the name "Ralph" for a large purple dinosaur character that was developed by my mother and the company to be used in a nutrition education program. Eventually the lawsuit was dropped (I wonder why?!) and the dinosaur diud his thing for American school children. Later the same dinosaur, under a new name, became a star of children's day time television.

Ralph Nader chose not to attack Volkswagen and their Beetles for the same dangerous handling characteristics because, let's face it, his supporters, both verbally and financially were VW drivers of both the Bug and the Bus. Nader knew enough not to bite the hand that keeps you in business. Going after big bad GM was far more acceptable and fashionable then just as it is today.
 
#136 · (Edited)
Hey, I don't know from where, but I found the motivation to upload the photos and write the story. I hope there's still some interest. Maybe I'm just bored and lonely in Alabama now, bleh.

So, like I told you guys, Ray and I drove to North Carolina and checked out the car. That post is a little ways up. I deliberated and decided to make the deal. $3500 plus my old rust bucket '64. "What a steal!" I thought to myself.

So, this is the day I took delivery. This is the jackass himself, h2oless he goes by on ebay. I'd recommend either avoiding him altogether or taking advantage of whatever ebay policies you can to harass, intimidate, and annoy him. You wouldn't want to buy anything from him anyway as he seems to think everything he owns is made of gold. There are still loads of parts from my black '64 on his page, because, thank God, people tend to be less stupid than I am.

First, we loaded up the old Black '64. Bye bye, old friend. I learned a lot, and you were quite loyal and faithful... I'll miss you!



Or.... Maybe I won't. Look at the body lines from where they cut out the rocker panel without bracing the car.



So here she is, Oh! So GORGEOUS! How could I ever have landed such an amazing deal! Like he said, just rebuild the engine and GO! Oh I cannot WAIT to be vairing around again!





This is amazing! Look at my gorgeous new car, decent interior, wonderful paint, and my dog likes it too! Things could not be better!



 
#138 ·
Alright, let's check out that engine motor. Like he said, All I've got to do is pull it out and give it an old freshen-up! At this point I rigged the car's electrical system back up, which surprisingly worked for the most part. A little bit of smoke came through the vents when I first hooked it up. not sure if something died or caught fire, but that's irrelevant now. Let's take a look at that FURIOUS POWERPLANT.



Oh... yeah. I can handle that, no big deal. A little... crunchier than I thought. I can afford to spend a little more time and money on this motor, though. Just imagine all the money I'm going to save in body work, it's 95% restored after all! "Rhinoliner all in and under the trunk and engine bay!" I mean, it comes with NEW CARPET! and lots of CHROME ITEMS! Also a FULL SET OF DOOR HANDLES AND WINDOW ROLLERS! Valued by that knobhead at.... who even cares what I let him convince me those taiwanese repro window rollers were worth. The point is I was dumb.

Anyway, Let's put her up in the air, let's check out that fleshy underbelly.



Up we go! Alright, let's see what we're looking at with.... uh...



Oh that is... interesting. I wasn't sure some corvairs didn't come with exhaust. Ah, well, that must all be part of that measly 5%. Let's check on to the rest of the... oh....









----------

At this point I had started to feel the pit of my stomach drop. Hard. I was feeling incredibly overwhelmed and this was day one. I called dickface and he didn't answer. I didn't even know where to start. I just stood under the car looking at the rust, the powerpak (something seemed off about it,) the brake lines (pretty much nonexistant) and the brakes themselves, which I confirmed to be ALL ORIGINAL... NOT what I bargained for.... Here's the rears.



My stomach couldn't handle anymore. I headed home. Went to sleep praying this could somehow be explained or rectified the next day... he sold it to me as "95% restored," after all, and he claimed to be a man of his word.

I called him up the next day, sending him the pictures. Asking him what the deal was. He said "Oh wow I thought it was all done under there, I had no idea." I ask if there is something he can do, maybe I could send the car up there to go back to that prison he somehow gets the bodywork for the cost of materials at. Then he started saying "you know that engine on your corvair leaked all the way back up to North Carolina, and..." and started to complain that he didn't feel the amount of spare parts I included with the black car reflected our bargain. So I asked why THIS car only included 75% of the new equipment he SAID it came with (only had one headlight bucket and bezel, etc.) At which point he started spitting out garbage half-legal terms, like "exchange of properties are complete," and whatever crap like that.

I hung up the phone, incredibly upset, and punched the underside of the car, as I was standing under it. At that point, a big glob of garbage fell off the transmission. To add insult to injury, that big glob of whatever it was, was the extra hump four speed transmissions have. Only this wasn't a four speed transmission. It was a non-synchro three speed with a pound of shit on it. I then checked the numbers on the block. 95 HP low compression engine. I had been thoroughly screwed.
 
#141 ·
So, there I was, facing another complete restoration, staring at the underside of a low compression, three speed base model rattlebox full of holes, whose "replaced floors" were just galvanized plates RIVETED in. I felt so sick, but I decided to just get going. I was using the shop of a "family friend" who owed my family a bit of money for real estate services he couldn't pay for. He had told me not to worry, that I could make use of his shop and lifts, and "fix up" the car.

So, I did the first thing I thought logical. Ordered the right transmission, and pulled the motor.


(From left in this image: "Pablo," shop owner's socially retarded high school dropout son. Huge father-son drama they tried to bring me into. "Sean," a 'old school' mechanic my mother referred me to, as I wasn't living in the area at the time. I hired him to help me out. Apparently, in west palm beach 'olc school mechanic' means somethng different. I don't remember the guy in the background's name, but he was pretty cool.)

Almost immediately thereafter, I started catching crap from the owner, "Julio." Mostly just "why did you buy this piece of garbage." or, more accurately "Wafor u bai dis peesa chit mang? It a reuininin ma chop!"

I mostly ignored him, but quelled his weird cleanliness concerns. Everything had to be SURGICAL.

Code:
Aside:It is a friggin' mechanic shop, but I guess that doesn't make much of a difference when the only vehicles that come in are my car, and his personal friends he would rip off by charging a cheap labour rate (often with me doing the work for free,) and then charging him 200~400% of DEALER cost for the parts. One lady came in needing for shocks on her Mercedes. She "only" paid $3~400 for labour, but she had herself four grand in vested in a few hundred dollars worth of shocks.
The crunchiness of the suspension terrified me, so I decided that had to go as well. I rigged up a dolly for the car to sit on that would allow it to be wheeled around the shop, which was a HUGE shop by the way, there were ample locations inside the shop the car could be wheeled to and be completely out of the way. I talked to Julio about this and he agreed, so, I yank the suspension, put it in my truck.

 
#145 ·
Also, before leaving; I somewhat pre-maturely decided to upgrade the master cylinder. Corvairs all originally had single pot master cylinders, with 50/50 brake distribution. I went ahead and installed a first generation F-body master cylinder, which gives more modern twin pots, as well are more closer to "proper" brake proportioning.

 
#146 ·
So, dollying up the car after having pulled the motor and suspension, I carted the engine (leaving out a part of the story where I entrusted the engine to some other drunk who changed the transmission and clutch without changing the throwout bearing) and the suspension back to Orlando where I was living at the time to sort them out, with the plan of bringing them back and stuffing them in the car.

I worked out a deal with a gentleman who did sandblasting out behind some trailers in a part of town I didn't know existed.





Unfortunately, exactly at the point I left for Orlando, I started getting calls from Julio to "get my peesa chit out his shop." I thought this was quite peculiar timing as I had just made the car completely immovable. I pleaded with him to no avail, but he at least agreed to keep the car inside or under a cover. That's not what actually happened, though. I got calls a couple weeks later from the friendly receptionist saying I should probably send a new cover for the car, as it "keeps getting blown off in the wind." So yeah, my car was now sitting outside in a lot, with no cover, no convertible top, etc, sitting out in the south florida weather. I had to figure something out, and fast. I made a deal with the receptionist to put a new cover on it and secure it, and I started to scramble to figure something out.

In the mean time, the suspension parts were powdercoated and given a rough cobbling together.



A few weeks before, I was helping a friend sell the 289 out of his '57 Chevrolet, and two guys showed up in a truck to pick up the engine. They looked like a couple of morons at first bluff, but when they came to look at the engine, and knew all the correct casting numbers and marking off the top of their heads, they seemed to really know their stuff. They saw the rolling '57 in his garage and begged him to let them do the bodywork on it, that they really wanted to get it back on the road. I told them about my Corvair, and they encouraged me to come check their shop out in Titusville, about an hour away from Orlando and four hours from where the car was.

Being that I was now desperate, I went to their shop. It wasn't easy on the eyes, but these were some real straightforward and honest guys, and the first real good vibe I had gotten since starting the project. I headed down south with a truckfull of suspension and a rough idea of a plan.

I get to the shop with the suspension. I had spoken to Julio before about the plan, that I was bringing the suspension so I could load up the car and tow it away. He said that there would be no problem, but that he couldn't guarantee that there would be a jack available, that "it might be busy." I said okay, and headed down. I knew they wouldn't be busy, as they maybe got a customer per week.

I show up with my buddy go around to the bays, and guess what... they're all filled. With is personal cars. He just put one of his cars on and under each lift, just sitting there. I ask him what's going on, and he says "oh we're working on them." So I try and level with him, I say "look, you call me twice a week begging me to take the car away, now I'm here to take the car away and you're trying to keep me from doing it, what's your end here?" He just stared at me blankly. So, I went around back, grabbed a floor jack and some 4x4's, and we go out, in the rain, to lay under the car and rough install the front and rear suspensions. After about three hours of wet and sweaty needless toil, we got it together.

 
#147 · (Edited)
So, I get the car all ready to be towed. I tell the shop owner I will be back within a week to get the car out of his hair. We agree on the day and time, and all is well. I go back home and call in some favors. A buddy of mine worked at superchips at the time, and he mentioned having some test vehicles and large trailers that they use to test their diesel tunes. I get him to clear it with his boss, and we have a brand new F250 power stroke at our disposal. The tune this thing was running was pretty crucial. Let me tell you, it moved. Especially considering the sheer size of the trailer we brought.



I throw a few of my tools in the bed, and we head on down. On the way down, I called the owner. No answer. Friggin' great. This is exactly what I needed. I call his son, no answer. The other worker in the shop, finally get hold of him. Pretty much the owner was trying to screw with me. Was trying to figure out when I would be there so he could make sure the side gate was locked up and I'd have to stay in town overnight. Just because he's a charmer. I finally get hold of the owner and try to level with him, saying "Look, you want the car gone so bad, I'm 45 minutes away, just leave the gate open." "Oh I dunno mang. You know its not so safe down here. Maybe your car not be there when you get here, you know?"

I reminded him it was an empty, fifty year old chassis of a car that hasn't been popular in almost as long. It's not an EK Honda Civic, it definitely isn't a priority target amongst car thieves. He keeps stammering and stuttering, and I just say. "Look, you can leave the gate open or not. One way or the other, I'm taking the car tonight, like we agreed." He finally concedes and agrees to leave it open, and leaves the padlock with my car so I can lock it when I got there.

Of course I was expecting this kind of crap from him. Hence the large pair of bolt cutters in the bed of the truck. We finally get there, was surprised I didn't have to use it. We went in the side, loaded up the car on our own, and headed straight for Titusville, where we would drop the car at the shop of those men I mentioned before, which they affectionately dubbed "the little shop of horrors."



I will say, that tune Superchips put on that 250 was pretty damn crucial. There was a time we pulled off the road to check the straps, and then he floored it to put us back on the road. I think that might have been the fastest that little car will ever accelerate.

----------

So, we dropped it at the shop in Titusville. I returned a few days alter after they had a chance to look over the car a bit more. We worked out some preliminary numbers, and he made it very clear that rust was a personal enemy of his, and that I wouldn't have to worry about it. This pleased me. I really liked this guy. Name was Tito. He and I are still good friends. He put the car up on a body stand and left me with the suspension so that I could completely rebuild that myself.



(You can see in this image the car sitting on what would be its home for many, many months; as well as the suspensions waiting for me to pick them up in front of it. Tito makes a cameo in the back as well.)

Being that the body was now in his hands, I went back home to start my end of the deal. The suspension and engine.

The suspension was a hell of an ordeal. I ordered a full set of wear items from "Lon Wall" of Corvair underground. Shortly thereafter, speaking to some other corvair enthusiasts, they laughed and wished me luck. Apparently Lon Wall was about eight hundred years old at this point, and it was a crap shoot whether he would send you your parts at all, and if he did, whether they would fit. Of course, it took me months of calling twice a week to get the components in. When I did, lo and behold, about 25% of the parts were for a late model Corvair. I found some of this out when the shop I had contracted to press in the bushings attempted to do so, even though they were way oversize, ruining my freshly powder-coated A-Arms, not to mention the $100 bushings. Luckily, another corvair had found its way into a scrapyard near me.



(Very interesting trunk pan.)

Yanked the A-arms from that car, as well as some other parts. Got everything pressed on in the right order, and vowed never to deal with this type of garbage again. Went ahead and bought my own press, too.

Because I didn't take any photos of the motor before I started tearing into it, here is a good representation.



This is the beginning of one of those stories of "while I'm in here..." At first, I was just going to change out the heads for some of the higher compression ones I found at the junkyard. Then, I realized that the cams were different, of course. Contemplating whether I wanted to split the cases or just leave it a low-comp motor, I start researching what's available for the Corvair. In any case, I got it on my stand, and yanked the heads and jugs.

 
#149 ·
When my dad bought his 64 Monza new he had it in the shop constantly for rough running and they could not fix it. They had everything checked and rechecked and could not get it to idle smoothly.

Then GM came out with a service bulletin that certain cars had gotten the Corsa cam instead of the correct one. He took it in for them to change it. A day or two later he stopped at the dealer to see how it was going and found the mechanic sitting in the middle of an empty bay, with his engine split open and laid out on the floor. He came home and told mom they would have to trade it in when it came back because it would never be right after being so tore up.

Came back and ran like a champ, kept it for 148,000 miles and still was running like a new car. He missed that car to the day he died, he loved it so much. Your photo jogged loose a good memory.
 
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