Honestly...how good was the 318...mpg / durability / hp

my buddy had a 73 D100 with a 318 that took an absolutely astronomical amount of abuse at his hands, and given the state that it was purchased in, was most certianly criminally abused before he even got it.

now, let me tell you about "The Machine".

everything here is 100% true, verifiable and can be corroborated by at least three other people. also, i have been granted immunity for my crimes while working under duress to keep that god forsaken truck on the road.

prolouge-
JR had a small landscaping business, he was doing well. had a small crew and a few machines. we'd known each other since we were kids, so i helped him out maintaining his machinery, keeping his trailers and trucks up to snuff. well, a little sour luck turned the worm, so after a bad wreck and **** insurance payout JR was in a tight spot and needed a truck. and needed one, like, yesterday.

this was the stone ages, man. craig's list was in its infancy, penny saver and truck trader were where it was at. so our little band of merry misfits scoured the papers, online, and beat the bushes and shook the trees till this glorious beast bubbled up to the surface. it was tagged and titled, it "runs good", it was pre smog, but most importantly, it was the right price. less than four digits.

Part I-
i was away on business or otherwise occupied so therefore i cannot be blamed for the purchase. my brother, task-master/master negotiator and JR set off after work, money in hand. a truck was being purchased, this was of the essence. so if it needed to happen at night, in a poorly lit parking lot of a sketchy circle K in a dubious part of town, well... that's just how it was going to go down then.

the good news is, nobody got shot, stabbed or robbed. the bad news is, the truck made it back under its own power.

really, there is no good news after this.

Part II-
repeating the mantra: "it's just a work truck, it's just a work truck" does not, in fact, make everything copacetic.

i'll spare the granular details that we've all seen on 70's trucks and play the greatest hits: bobo wiring, wiring nuts, plumbers tape, lamp cord, burnt out amp meter, speedo missing needle, no parking brake (as in no lever, not even a way to engage it), one door missing handle inside, the other missing a handle on the outside, two different mirrors, a steering column that flops around like a damn turkey leg on an overcooked carcass,

the usual jiggle the key, stick your tongue out to one side, wiggle waggle the steering wheel and cross your toes while saying a prayer to start it. there wasn't a fluid it didn't leak, and if wasn't leaking that means it was out of that particular fluid.

but, all of that paled in comparison to the "upgrades"... the seat which was totally waxed, had at least three seat covers on it. the steering wheel? every kind, sort and type of wheel cover-- knobby ones, slick ones, neon ones, faux leather-- all of the steering wheel covers. i stopped counting around 4 or 5. there was a 5lb foldgers can with a 2" section cut length wise down it with simpson ties attached to it and screwed to the trans tunnel with dry wall screws-- this was a custom cup holder to hold a super big glup. there was a piece of yucca wedged into the door holding up the regulator which doubled, as told by the PO, as a "back off stick" when people or bikes got to close. the radio was duct taped to the top of the dash with 6X9's screwed to the lower lip-- the angle of projection was perfectly in line with your face. the radio was also broken, stuck on what i assumed to be 11 volume wise and stuck on some crazy fundamentalist AM talk radio station. there was a Ratt cassette stuck inside.

on the exterior, the forward thinking inventor of the super big gulp cup holder had launched forth his magnum opus: a system designed to protect the paint of this magnificent chariot from "those damn guys and their tool belts" while looking stunning. it was, and i **** you not, wood paneling affixed with liquid nails and about 1,298 drywall screws. yes, yes it is *exactly* the wood paneling you're thinking of from the basement renovation circa 1977. and that's right, your heard me correctly: affixed to the body with liquid nails and dry.wall.screws.

the crowning discovery on cleaning this absolute gem, was a shopping list from the seller. it read thusly:
- get indian card
-hair dye
-boa skin, real or fake. yellow?
-scratchers
-call WF

to this day, we all still have a laugh because out of the blue somebody will say: boa skin? and the sentence gets finished.

Part III-
for such a clapped out **** box the mechanicals were somewhat decent, albeit leaky. i noticed a tick which i figured to be a sticky lifter, valve or an exhaust leak. but after a once over with the whole arsenal of Vatzone's finest 19.99 everything with lifetime warranty, and the whole "12 pack tuning program" it persisted. but that 318 ran great, and i mean just absolutely perfect. started easy, idled smooth, no funky hiccups or herky-jerky nonsense, power was smooth and it didn't run hot. it just ticked and then ticked louder when it got hot.

the genius before kept a spray can of white lith grease. during the course of sale, he had instructed that: if it got to tickin' then just spray some of this here, all up in here (up behind the balancer and pulley) and it'll quiet it right down. you can imagine the mess that made. who knows how long that little game had been going on.

anyway, the tick wasn't that loud. i told JR to roll and let me know if it got louder.

and dear reader, you know it did.

that tick, we had thought at first blush to be something not of much concern? yeah that was a rod bearing. and it just kept going, and going, and going away. getting louder and louder and louder. you'd hear him come down the street and let off and it sounded like the rod was gonna just jump right off and make an inspection window.

now here's the testament to the might 318. even with that rod trying its damn hardest to break up with the band and go solo, it still ran perfectly. idled fine, didn't over heat, had plenty of smooth power. it was still running perfect when finally broke down because we couldn't stand the noise anymore and yanked it to end its suffering. a post mortem autopsy revealed a pile of bearing shavings the size of a damn golf ball just chilling out on the block rail. another rod was twisted, two pistons were ate up on the crown and looked like the surface of the moon, and several cam lobes were just all base circle.

but it still performed admirably, and for that you can't fault it.

Epilogue-
after a new rattle bomb rebuild motor, The Machine battled on. serving time in the most brutal of ways: work truck to hourly employees who hated what they did for a living, who their boss was and really, if we're honest, themselves. even these terrible individuals failed to kill the 318, and it wasn't for lack of trying. they were experts at abuse and neglect.

however, set back not by its style, or absolute beater status, nor the ruffians who operated the wonderous marvel, a series of sudden events that involved a wood chipper, fiberglass extension ladder and three gallons of creosote finally doomed The machine to demise.

broken for parts, i kept the motor and used it in another project. the rest that wasn't sold got hauled off by the scrapper.

i wish i still had that super big gulp cup holder, though.