IronBlock's Inter-Continental Ballistic Datsun Restomod

The Something Awful Forums > Discussion > Automotive Insanity > IronBlock's Inter-Continental Ballistic Datsun Restomod

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

ironblock posted:

I... uh... what?

Some years ago we had an awesome drawn-out writeup of a project Mustang that the guy had actually finished, much like your thread here, it was very entertaining. But then someone discovered that he was posting under the same screenname on white supremacy boards, and the thread got whisked away before we could get closure. "World's Worst Clydesdale" I believe was the title of the thread.

# ¿ Nov 12, 2013 06:11

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# ¿ May 15, 2024 19:07

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

I've found Berryman's B-33 degreaser to work wonders, but I see what appears to be a can of it there. So if that didn't do the trick, that must have been some nasty gunk.

# ¿ Nov 12, 2013 22:15

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

ironblock posted:

Little did you know, I love all cars with pop up headlights, especially when they have V12s.

I can't remember the specifics, but my autistic BMW-obsessed friend went NUTS when he saw it. I think it may have been the CSi, or something similarly uncommon.

I know a guy with an 850csi, it's been sitting under this tree for months to years I think:

Sorry for the lovely picture, I was trying to take the pic surreptitiously.

# ¿ Jan 2, 2014 22:35

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

dubzee posted:

http://www.rediscoveradio.com/

Modulators are OK as a last resort, but nowhere near as good as an actual line-level input.

# ¿ Jan 6, 2014 02:34

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

dubzee posted:

It runs inline with the antenna, so it's not as janky as the transmitters.

No, but it's still an RF modulator. You still lose fidelity. It's not as bad as the transmitters that have their own antennas, but they're certainly no replacement for an actual line in if you have the ability.

# ¿ Jan 6, 2014 02:52

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

kastein posted:

You're talking about 200kHz worth of bandwidth here. If you can hear the difference, you have been spending way too much time listening to music and not enough time using an angle grinder/wire wheel/impact driver on your car.

Maybe it's just that the ones I've been exposed to suck. But, you're right, I am always a sissy about earpro.

# ¿ Jan 6, 2014 03:37

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

IOwnCalculus posted:

More importantly, you're talking about that going into a very, very old radio. Presumably a lot of people running said radio are also going to be running original speaker(s), or at least limited to the factory location they can hide one in.

The dinky rear end speaker I pulled out of my GMC recently, for example, is going to sound like dogshit whether you feed it with real power or China's worst. No speaker that fits there is going to make the difference between 96kbps MP3s or FLAC, let alone modulator versus line in.

That's a good point. All the more reason to just use a tiny solid state amp tucked away somewhere separate from the original radio!

# ¿ Jan 6, 2014 04:12

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

Mat_Drinks posted:

Yeah seriously! Tell us the story like it's a Punisher comic!

Punisher MAX posted:

A half-hour's drive later I had the jump leads clamped to the skin of his balls and I'd been turning the key in the ignition for fifteen minutes and he'd poo poo all over himself and the world was a beautiful place.

# ¿ May 23, 2014 00:38

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

8ender posted:

Wasn't there already some fan fiction involving carb guy guest starring Kastein earlier in the thread or did I imagine (fantasize about) that?

ironblock posted:

The air is cool and silent. It's just before dawn, and rays of pink light are starting to creep over hilltops and into the sleepy valleys below. A golden-brown thrush alights on the branch of a lone aspen. She preens her soft feathers, fluffing them up as though to ward off the cold. She sits and waits, looking for breakfast.

The branch quakes lightly, almost imperceptibly so. The thrush doesn't feel any breeze, and she is alone on her perch. What could it be? She cocks her head and listens. In the distance, she can just make out a soft roar, like snow avalanching off a tree's branches, or maybe a torrent of water splashing down onto rocks. Then, she sees it. Chasing away the muted rays of morning sun, the harsh yellow cascade of halogen high beams blasts over the rise.

The furious trundling of the enormous diesel mill is nearly overcome by the sound of ten knobby tires chewing up the country road at 54 miles per hour. The morning's peace is shattered, but inside the truck's cab, there is a different kind of silence. A purity of intent, of focused will. An understanding between the truck's occupants that whatever comes to pass, whatever may have been ordained by fate, whatever transgressions against men and Gods are about to occur, that these things are right. That no questions need be asked, no answers need be given.

As the country road gives way to to city street, and then to suburbs, the passenger smiles. The target is home. He and the driver share a moment of mute understanding, and the five ton truck commits a federal offense, obliterating the flimsy mailbox. A copy of Us Weekly flutters back to Earth in the neighbor's yard. With a grunt and a small lurch, the truck seems to regret its enthusiasm, cautiously backing its rear tires off the lawn while bringing its nose about. With the truck's formidable lighting array now aimed directly through the living room's picture window, sunrise has come early to one house in Syracuse.

Red-faced and sweating, the man of the house bursts through the front door, flinging open the screen with wild abandon. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene in his front yard. The truck is still aimed at him like a ferocious beast, quietly rumbling sooty exhaust onto the petunias.

Just as he puts his hands up to block the blast from those brilliant headlights, they're switched off, and the truck's doors open.

IronBlock and Kastein jump down and form ranks in the muddy horror that once was the man's lawn, their jet-black suits contrasting sharply with the damage around them.

IronBlock carefully adjusts his Rolex and clears his throat.

"Mr. Parker," he intones, "you're late."

# ¿ May 23, 2014 00:57

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

Man, this thing is sweet, but with all of the trick custom stuff you're doing, why are you sticking with a suicide circuit? No way to make a dual circuit master fit? I wouldn't want to drive hard something that was one rubber seal or hose away from complete brake failure.

# ¿ May 8, 2015 09:58

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

ironblock posted:

This is also - unfortunately - one of those cars where you can't pull the engine without bringing the transmission along with it. It's not particularly heavy, but it requires significant changes in angle while being lifted. For that reason, I now prefer a ratchet strap over a chain, since it's easier to slide the nylon than to get a chain to jump links on the hook.

Get you a load leveler, dude. Visions of that motor starting to slide down the strap until one end is straight up and WHACK the tailshaft of the trans goes through the windshield...

# ¿ Jan 13, 2016 05:20

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# ¿ May 15, 2024 19:07

Raluek: Nov 3, 2006; WUT.

Mat_Drinks posted:

So am I seeing bearing failure due to oil starvation or did something get stuck in there? I don't have as much experience with engine internals so while I can tell what the parts are I'm confused if the pictures identify a part that failed first and caused the dominoes to start falling.

Either way, good luck with the new engine build, I can't wait to watch and learn!

Looks like oil starvation led to extreme friction and therefore temps at the bearings, and the crankshaft and conrods are now blue. Surprisingly, the bearings don't seem to have spun.

# ¿ Jan 14, 2016 08:22

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