Driving a sick engine and oddly enjoying it.

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cruiser

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Well here's something you won't see much in FABO; driving impressions of a dying engine. Since the trusty slant six in my 1974 Duster is on its last legs and about to be replaced, I thought I'd mention what it's like driving an engine that's in the process of dying. Sounds morbid I know, but here goes. As you likely know, the non-original 1988 installed slant six in my Duster is on its last legs (see attached compression values). Many guys on FABO have helped me come to the conclusion that I need a new motor. The new engine, BTW, is presently at the machine shop waiting its turn to be worked. In the mean time, I'm casting caution to the wind and driving the hell out of the old engine. Let's start in the garage. Cold start is interesting. After six pumps on the accelerator, the engine starts right up on high idle with a great deal of shakiness. I'm sitting in the driver's seat watching the radio antenna waggle back and forth with all the vibration. Oddly, it settles down a bit after about three minutes on high idle, after which I kick it down to curb idle - which is also very shaky and lumpy. Backing out of the garage is interesting as it feels like the engine is about to die out, but for some reason doesn't. Once I'm driving, the exhaust leak (that the shop that incorrectly reinstalled my exhaust manifold created) starts kicking in with a booming noise. Next, it's down the entrance ramp and out onto the highway where you can really feel the poor compression (see photo). By actual measurement, zero to sixty time is 22 seconds. Ouch. Anyhow, cruising at 60 mph (once you get there) is surprisingly not bad as long as you don't try to pass a semi. Fuel economy is about the same as always - around 15 MPG. Soon it's back home where she dies in the driveway, followed by a restart and into the garage. The beauty of it all is that I don't mind flogging it as I have nothing to lose at this point. It is a testament to the durability of the slant six design. Try as I might, I simply can't kill this engine. Anyhow, that's my story and now it's your turn, so please let us know your dying engine stories. Many thanks and be well!

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Are you rebuilding another 6 cylinder or making a change ?
I'm rebuilding a more correct and original slant six engine. You can read the full story that I've posted on FABO entitled "Bob's Component Resto Part 36: Dusty gets a new motor, chapter one".
 
Back around 1992, I bought a 1980 Dodge Aspen wagon for 50 bucks that had a brand new state inspection sticker and a bad miss. Planning to get a year out of it, I gave it a quick tune up. The miss stayed. Compression test revealed almost zero on number six. Decided to just drive it. I never actually measured the zero to sixty times, mainly because I didn't have a sundial or calendar in the car with me. It pushed oil out the exhaust to the point where it would actually leave a golf ball sized spot on the ground under the tailpipe. Gave up buying oil for it, and just carried a 5 gallon jug of used oil with me everywhere. Drive until the valvetrain grew excessively noisy, pull off the road, grab my jug, "glug glug glug, yeah that's probably 4 quarts", slam the hood and go some more. It survived 9 months of this, before the dreaded knock began one subzero night. The autopsy revealed that the entire crown of number six piston was fragments in the oil pan. Not sure how or why, because it was already that way at purchase.
 
Back around 1992, I bought a 1980 Dodge Aspen wagon for 50 bucks that had a brand new state inspection sticker and a bad miss. Planning to get a year out of it, I gave it a quick tune up. The miss stayed. Compression test revealed almost zero on number six. Decided to just drive it. I never actually measured the zero to sixty times, mainly because I didn't have a sundial or calendar in the car with me. It pushed oil out the exhaust to the point where it would actually leave a golf ball sized spot on the ground under the tailpipe. Gave up buying oil for it, and just carried a 5 gallon jug of used oil with me everywhere. Drive until the valvetrain grew excessively noisy, pull off the road, grab my jug, "glug glug glug, yeah that's probably 4 quarts", slam the hood and go some more. It survived 9 months of this, before the dreaded knock began one subzero night. The autopsy revealed that the entire crown of number six piston was fragments in the oil pan. Not sure how or why, because it was already that way at purchase.
Pretty amazing - driving with a destroyed #6 cylinder. Wow.
 
Pretty amazing - driving with a destroyed #6 cylinder. Wow.
Yes, the famous slant five. All my friends remember it well. I'm not sure what kept the rest of the piston from breaking and allowing the wrist pin to slam the cylinder wall. Luck I guess.
 
Yes, the famous slant five. All my friends remember it well. I'm not sure what kept the rest of the piston from breaking and allowing the wrist pin to slam the cylinder wall. Luck I guess.
Would love to see any photos of the piston or cylinder if you have them.
 
Would live to see any photos of the piston or cylinder if you have them.
That was 1992. I didn't even own a camera back then. I was just a 20 year old, dirt poor Mopar enthusiast, trying to make enough money to hopefully get his 70 Challenger SE put back together
 
When I was in Highschool, there was a little old lady in town with a '66 Dart GT, Mauve (purple) with a white Signet interior.
I always admired it, and one day on my way home from school I saw it T Boned in an intersection. She was OK, but the car was a total.
I tried to buy it but the shop that towed it "was going to fix it" and as time went by I forgot all about it.
15 years later the shop went out of business and the owner called my shop and asked if I still wanted it?
Well, sitting out in the impound lot for 15 years with the windows down and the drivers door (cut off by the "Jaws Of Life") setting on the front seats had a pretty bad effect on the car.
Looking back it was restorable, but at the time it was just a rusty moldy mess not worth fooling with.
so I used the rear frame rails to fix my sisters Scamp and it became a parts car.
When it was about picked clean by my 2 middle school aged helpers, they asked if they could "blow the engine up? (it was a 225)
I showed them how to hook up an external fuel tank to it and gave them 5 gallons of gas and a rock to put on the gas pedal.
They came back in the shop about half hour later asking for more gas.
I gave them 5 more gallons. By then it was hot enough all the grease was burnt off of it!!
Twards the end of the 2nd 5 gallons the rock vibrated off the pedal and it settled down to a nice smooth Slant 6 idle.

And never did "Blow Up"....
 
When I was in Highschool, there was a little old lady in town with a '66 Dart GT, Mauve (purple) with a white Signet interior.
I always admired it, and one day on my way home from school I saw it T Boned in an intersection. She was OK, but the car was a total.
I tried to buy it but the shop that towed it "was going to fix it" and as time went by I forgot all about it.
15 years later the shop went out of business and the owner called my shop and asked if I still wanted it?
Well, sitting out in the impound lot for 15 years with the windows down and the drivers door (cut off by the "Jaws Of Life") setting on the front seats had a pretty bad effect on the car.
Looking back it was restorable, but at the time it was just a rusty moldy mess not worth fooling with.
so I used the rear frame rails to fix my sisters Scamp and it became a parts car.
When it was about picked clean by my 2 middle school aged helpers, they asked if they could "blow the engine up? (it was a 225)
I showed them how to hook up an external fuel tank to it and gave them 5 gallons of gas and a rock to put on the gas pedal.
They came back in the shop about half hour later asking for more gas.
I gave them 5 more gallons. By then it was hot enough all the grease was burnt off of it!!
Twards the end of the 2nd 5 gallons the rock vibrated off the pedal and it settled down to a nice smooth Slant 6 idle.

And never did "Blow Up"....
As a teenager, I worked at a local salvage yard. The owner had a daytime job working for the state, and the yard was open evenings from 430 to 830. Anyway, we got a 75 or 76 Valiant in once with a 225 with a rod knock. The car had a little more than three quarters of a tank of fuel. The yard owner decided we were going to "brick" it. He started it and put a brick on the throttle. It screamed all evening. Finally ran out of gas. And just like the above story, it never did really blow up.
 
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