It was a beautiful Saturday morning. It really was. The big day on which the fit and enthusiastic volunteers were coming to help install the engine. So fine was it that I spent some time pottering in the garage getting ready. You know the kind of thing; putting the chain on the engine ready to lift, positioning the crane, clearing a path to the engine bay, searching the labelled bags of bits to ensure everything was ready to go. Great fun.
Came two o‘clock and the most bedraggled bunch of invalids you‘ve ever seen assembled coughing and sneezing with the flu. Actually I exaggerate a little for effect in that Peter Humpherson was actually OK but Paul Driscoll was pretty bad and Clarry Dains was pretty wrecked. Still, having agreed to come they stuck to it and I‘m grateful for that chaps.
Those with experience (everyone but me) said the thing to do was to hang the lump with the gearbox end dangling somewhat for easy entry so we spent a while fiddling with the chain till Clarry snuffled something about being as good as we were going to get at which point we raised the crane to its highest and there it was swinging gently. Attempts to photograph this moment of triumph were hampered by having forgotten to bring the camera so use your imagination at this point.
The crane was wheeled to the front of the car without mishap and having decided that Peter, being still in clean clothes (smart guy that) would be in charge of the engine mounting bolts and, having further decided by reference to the parts book just which washers went where, we commenced to lower away. By lowering and moving, lowering and moving we gradually got to the stage where the bolt holes were more or less aligned and, with Peter poised like a picador (for pacifists and other kind hearted souls that‘s the nasty bloke with the lances at a bullfight) with the bolts, the final lowering was accomplished in a bit of a rush and he hastily slotted them through the mounts before any slippage could occur. Triumph! (I thought you were putting the engine in your Rover not the Stag? Ed.) Engine inserted and secured without mishap or injury to engine, volunteer or heater.
Whilst Paul and I concentrated on fixing the engine steady bar Peter managed to get the nuts onto the mounting bolts and there you are. Engine in and safe! Well actually no. Nothing goes as smoothly as that. It‘s true that Peter got the mounting bolt safely fastened but the tie bar was something of a pain. The problem was that the bar consists of a metal rod attached to a bracket which in turn attaches to the head. At the bottom it attaches to a fixed bracket on the crossmember. Each attachment is cushioned by two rubber doughnut shaped jobs which allow a little flex. At least they do if you can find them.
We searched high and low for the last rubber and its accompanying washer and nut. It had to be in a plastic bag somewhere since it came off very early in my freezer bag and label period. No go though, so we eventually bodged with the top bush of a shock absorber and an odd nut and washer. Seems all right though.
At this point Clarry‘s flu got the better of him and since the major job was done he departed to a well earned whisky or three by the fire. Peter too had things to do so Paul and I did our best to finish the job. This just involved fitting cross bars under the rear of the gearbox which adjust the height. The bars were there but same old story, the spring, washer, spacer and adjuster bit was missing. In my own defence I don‘t recall ever seeing them and I think the car came without them. A subsequent call to one of the suppliers produced the spring and enough rubbers of a reasonably close fit to allow a good adaptation. (Now doesn‘t that sound better than bodge?) The adjuster I found rusted into the cross bar.
Paul now took the opportunity to depart and I felt it my duty to see off the beer which all and sundry had been too ill to drink. Whist doing so I got cleaned up and removed the overalls. In the pocket below I found a little plastic bag containing the rubber etc. for the lower end of the steady rod. Well I did say I searched for the relevant bits during that lovely morning. I think I‘ll refrain from telling Paul.
The bits arrived in less than twenty four hours and were no trouble to fit. Nor was the front end of the prop shaft with which established readers may remember I am extraordinarily familiar. I scrubbed shaft and box extension until the arrows were clear before connection. So far so good.
I remember that the rear end of the shaft was a bit of a pig. It still is. Firstly there was no sign of the bolts. I know they‘re somewhere because I remember (as may you) wrecking one of them and cutting down a longer one to make four which were carefully bagged and put away. Clearly in one of those ”safe" places. Never mind, make four more and get on. No trouble. I slipped the prop shaft under the car and as my head rose to clear the sill there they were. Lined up on the sill behind the flange like soldiers.
The book says that the bolts go in from the rear. Well they don‘t. At least they didn‘t. There‘s a clamp holding the nose of the diff, and it will not allow the bolts to go in from the rear. OK book wrong. Not the first time! Fit the other way. What a s*d of a job. Trying to hold the nylocs with one finger in a space not large enough with the shaft doing its best to rotate and sever the digit whilst furiously trying to engage the threads is not my idea of happy hour. Imagine then my joy when the four were finally tightened and the prop shaft wouldn‘t turn because the nuts, being rather bigger than the bolt heads, fouled the casing. This was a problem. They won‘t go the right way and they won‘t go the wrong way.
I didn‘t want to disconnect the differential because it looked a long job but I had to do something. I noticed that the flange to which the prop shaft bolts had a nut and washer in the middle. Perhaps the flange would come forward enough to get the bolts in without itself dropping out. Sure enough the nut loosened and as it unscrewed the flange came forward. I was sure there would be a heavy loading spring poised to explode components all over the garage but enough space was created to slip the bolts in before hastily bolting up tight before the luck ran out.
And there we are right down to the wire since that‘s almost the last big job before the quicker moving reconstructive bits. Except for one thing. I‘ve left the weather boot off the hole in the floor where the handbrake goes. It‘s right above the prop shaft which will have to drop to make room.
Oh and as I put down the overalls for the last time in this episode I was congratulating myself on not having walked into the bumper iron for a whole fortnight. I leave the rest to you!!!