Preface: My morning started off with a call from work saying if I wanted the day off, I could take it. Three days off in a row? Don't mind if I do. I rose early with the intentions of having my trans on the ground by the afternoon so I could take the flywheel to get resurfaced and prep everything to be re-installed once the other parts arrived. If all goes well, I'll be on the road by Mustang Week.
Once I had lifted the car to a work-able height (thanks to four ramps, two jacks and four stands) I started off by doing the basic removal of the clutch cable cover (in which was throwout bearing shrapnel and lots of metallic dust), removing the cable and loosening the quadrant from the firewall. Once that was out of the way, the starter was next on the list.
Mind you, I'm competent with a wrench, but I've always heard horror stories of the "third starter bolt". Undeterred, the bottom two bolts came out without a hitch. It was starting to get hot (about 85*, around 10:00AM... probably 90% humidity) but I was prepared. I was drinking water and lots of it. I also had to stop periodically to avoid two pissed off wasps, who seemed to think my car made a great nest for the day, but that's all trivial. Once it got to about 95* with a 105* heat index, the wasps decided it was too hot to mess with me.
I took a few minutes to surf the net to try to find exactly where this mystery bolt was. I found a well-constructed post on a forum and knew exactly where to go and how to get there. A foot and a half of extensions later, a swivel joint and some weird contorting and I had found the bastard bolt. "That wasn't bad", I thought to myself. These were words I'd later eat throughout the day.
Once I had slipped the 13mm socket over the bolt and secured the extensions in my ratchet, I gave it a turn. It wasn't catching. Hmmm, ok, no biggy... lets play with the angles a bit. Nadda. Finally after a few minutes it felt like I had a bite on the bolt. Gave it a nice turn and about 1/4 of a turn in, my heart began to pound and my vision started to black out as I felt the bolt round off. NO!!!!
It was at that exact moment that I wanted to know who, and more importantly WHY it was decided that this bolt was necessary to hold the starter on. I could only imagine someone in the drivetrain engineering department having a
But I digress, maybe I'm making too big of a deal about getting to single, day ruining bolt that requires you to run through the K-member, around the engine mount and into the tight, dark void of the upper starter region.
Although I was angry at the first sign of trouble, I knew what to do. Go grab some stripped bolt extractors and yank it out like a bad tooth. Right. Apparently the $20 set of bolt extractors was created to further strip the bolt so you can buy the $80 set of "real" extractors (you know, with "teeth" that actaully kind of grab the bolt head). Do I sense a conspiracy? Nah, I'm not really that kind of person, but if I was, I'd probably be blogging about it right now.
I get back home, still sweaty and kind of pissed I had to dodge the masses of tourists just to get a part that would later cause me to invent new swearwords and find creative ways to skin myself against the razor sharp edges of the stock K-member. I take a minute to cool down and sip on some iced coffee. The kind with hazelnut syrup. Yeah, judge me. This was really the calm before the storm, but as Captain, I was ready to brave the rough seas.
I go back out, confident I'll still have the trans out before it gets dark. I quickly grab the 13mm bite socket, finangle the extensions, careful not to squish Jerry, the lazy spider that's living on the side of the transmission I was working, on and gave a turn. Something started moving, awesome! NOT. That brief movement was a little more of the bolt head shearing off. It was at this time I'm pretty sure my neighbors could hear me calling my car names you might hear during a street brawl. I tried to keep my cool, called a few friends for advice and decided to give it another try after basically being told everything I'd tried was all I could do to get it out.
I tried hammering on smaller sockets, using the bite sockets, using a regular 13mm, changing the angles and switching out where the swivel joint was, etc. Just about the time I was ready to call it quits, I had one more go at it. I hammered the 13mm bite socket on as hard as I could, grabbed a breaker bar and pushed as hard as I could against the ratchet. To my shock and at this point irate state of mind, the bolt let out a mighty crack as it broke free. I swear, at that moment birds started signing, the sun rose again and butterflies flickered effortlessly through the air. Not really, but that's how it felt. I quickly showed those sharing my household my accomplishment, possibly causing confusion as I walked around the house giving the bolt the finger with a big smile on my face.
At the end of the day, all I can ask is why use that damn bolt. And really, I'm not asking for anything in return (except maybe a Ford brand band aid, not for my excessive scratches, but for my bruised ego). At least now I'm one step closer to finishing the job. But seriously, that bolt was not cool.
Once I had lifted the car to a work-able height (thanks to four ramps, two jacks and four stands) I started off by doing the basic removal of the clutch cable cover (in which was throwout bearing shrapnel and lots of metallic dust), removing the cable and loosening the quadrant from the firewall. Once that was out of the way, the starter was next on the list.
Mind you, I'm competent with a wrench, but I've always heard horror stories of the "third starter bolt". Undeterred, the bottom two bolts came out without a hitch. It was starting to get hot (about 85*, around 10:00AM... probably 90% humidity) but I was prepared. I was drinking water and lots of it. I also had to stop periodically to avoid two pissed off wasps, who seemed to think my car made a great nest for the day, but that's all trivial. Once it got to about 95* with a 105* heat index, the wasps decided it was too hot to mess with me.
I took a few minutes to surf the net to try to find exactly where this mystery bolt was. I found a well-constructed post on a forum and knew exactly where to go and how to get there. A foot and a half of extensions later, a swivel joint and some weird contorting and I had found the bastard bolt. "That wasn't bad", I thought to myself. These were words I'd later eat throughout the day.
Once I had slipped the 13mm socket over the bolt and secured the extensions in my ratchet, I gave it a turn. It wasn't catching. Hmmm, ok, no biggy... lets play with the angles a bit. Nadda. Finally after a few minutes it felt like I had a bite on the bolt. Gave it a nice turn and about 1/4 of a turn in, my heart began to pound and my vision started to black out as I felt the bolt round off. NO!!!!
It was at that exact moment that I wanted to know who, and more importantly WHY it was decided that this bolt was necessary to hold the starter on. I could only imagine someone in the drivetrain engineering department having a
But I digress, maybe I'm making too big of a deal about getting to single, day ruining bolt that requires you to run through the K-member, around the engine mount and into the tight, dark void of the upper starter region.
Although I was angry at the first sign of trouble, I knew what to do. Go grab some stripped bolt extractors and yank it out like a bad tooth. Right. Apparently the $20 set of bolt extractors was created to further strip the bolt so you can buy the $80 set of "real" extractors (you know, with "teeth" that actaully kind of grab the bolt head). Do I sense a conspiracy? Nah, I'm not really that kind of person, but if I was, I'd probably be blogging about it right now.
I get back home, still sweaty and kind of pissed I had to dodge the masses of tourists just to get a part that would later cause me to invent new swearwords and find creative ways to skin myself against the razor sharp edges of the stock K-member. I take a minute to cool down and sip on some iced coffee. The kind with hazelnut syrup. Yeah, judge me. This was really the calm before the storm, but as Captain, I was ready to brave the rough seas.
I go back out, confident I'll still have the trans out before it gets dark. I quickly grab the 13mm bite socket, finangle the extensions, careful not to squish Jerry, the lazy spider that's living on the side of the transmission I was working, on and gave a turn. Something started moving, awesome! NOT. That brief movement was a little more of the bolt head shearing off. It was at this time I'm pretty sure my neighbors could hear me calling my car names you might hear during a street brawl. I tried to keep my cool, called a few friends for advice and decided to give it another try after basically being told everything I'd tried was all I could do to get it out.
I tried hammering on smaller sockets, using the bite sockets, using a regular 13mm, changing the angles and switching out where the swivel joint was, etc. Just about the time I was ready to call it quits, I had one more go at it. I hammered the 13mm bite socket on as hard as I could, grabbed a breaker bar and pushed as hard as I could against the ratchet. To my shock and at this point irate state of mind, the bolt let out a mighty crack as it broke free. I swear, at that moment birds started signing, the sun rose again and butterflies flickered effortlessly through the air. Not really, but that's how it felt. I quickly showed those sharing my household my accomplishment, possibly causing confusion as I walked around the house giving the bolt the finger with a big smile on my face.
At the end of the day, all I can ask is why use that damn bolt. And really, I'm not asking for anything in return (except maybe a Ford brand band aid, not for my excessive scratches, but for my bruised ego). At least now I'm one step closer to finishing the job. But seriously, that bolt was not cool.