Monthly Calendar-Report for April 2008
ZR1. (Photo by Richard Prince [I guess].)
—A) My All-Corvette calendar is the original ZR1, a special version of the C4, with a special motor.
The C4 is 1983 — 1996 (what I call the disco ‘Vette), and the ZR1 1990 — 1995.
Primarily the ZR1 had a special 32-valve four-overhead-cam V8 that wasn’t related to the vaunted Small-Block at all.
The motor was designed by Lotus, and manufactured by Kiekhaefer Marine (manufacturer of Mercury outboard motors).
The whole ZR1 package added $31,258 to the $36,785 base cost of the coupe. —The ZR1 was only available as a coupe.
At that cost, it wasn’t very successful. After all, the Corvette sells mainly to profilers.
That motor is the motor the Small-Block should have been developed into.
A 32-valve four-overhead-cam (two per head) could breathe way better than the Small-Block.
—That is, and remain fairly tractable (streetable).
Lotus also developed another double-overhead cam motor, the Cosworth two-liter four for the Chevrolet Cosworth-Vega.
The Vega was a good design as a car (although rust-prone), but had a terrible motor; its all-aluminum (unsleeved) 2.3-liter four with a single overhead cam driven by a toothed-rubber Gilmer belt.
If the poor thing overheated, the block warped, and the cylinder-bores wore so much it turned into a mosquito-fogger.
The Vega also suffered from being a downsized Detroit sedan, so had gigantic heavy doors.
Special body panels were part of the ZR1 package to shroud its gigantic 11-inch wide rear wheels.
Classic 1932 Ford “Hi-Boy” roadster. (Photo by Peter Vincent.)
—B) My April 2008 All-Deuce calendar has a classic 1932 hi-boy roadster hot-rod, classic in that it has a much-modified flat-head Ford V8 motor, the motor the first hot-rodders fooled around with.
“Hi-boy” because it’s a roadster running at normal height (although lowered in the front), yet the fenders have been removed.
The Flat-head isn’t very sophisticated; little more than a water-cooled Briggs & Stratton lawnmower engine multiplied by eight.
But it was a V8, and they were plentiful and cheap.
It was Old Henry’s response to more cylinders in cheap cars, and his refusal to build an inline six.
The Flat-head was introduced in the 1932 model-year, and continued through the 1953 model-year, although enlarged and improved.
By then overhead-valve engines were becoming the norm, so the lowly side-valve engine, which the Flat-head is, was antiquated.
Nevertheless, most early hot-rods were souped-up Ford Flat-heads (although the first hot-rods were souped-up Model T fours), and this one has all the speed-equipment gimcracks from that era; e.g. a reground camshaft (allowing longer valve-opening and more abrupt valve-motion), three two-barrel carburetors (better breathing), and special high-compression aluminum cylinder-heads.
Shade-tree mechanics bent a lot of performance out of the hoary old Flat-head, but the Small-Block Chevy V8 ended that.
A Small-Block responded well to hot-rodding, and was also plentiful and cheap.
The Flat-head also suffered from routing hot exhaust gases through the engine-block.
The exhaust-valves were on the inside of the head, but the outlets outside. (Cadillac had their exhaust outlets on top of their side-valve V8.)
Billy Gardiner, my boss at Mahz-n-Wawdzz my first summer in 1963, had a ‘53 Ford pickup with a Flat-head, and it liked to overheat.
He couldn’t boom-and-zoom lest it start running hot.
The Flat-head also ported the two middle cylinders (per bank) out one outlet; i.e. four cylinders had three outlets.
(This restricted exhaust flow.)
The vaunted Small-Block had none of these problems, so the hoary old Flat-head was put out to pasture.
Rodders began installing the Small-Block in place of their Flat-heads — and the Small-Block Chevy was about the same size.
Yet it’s nice to see someone maintaining a hot-rod as they were built in the late ‘40s. (I remember getting a hot-rod book as a kid [early ‘50s] and it was suggesting all the speed-equipment on this car — e.g. triple Stromberg two-barrel carburetors.)
Although I prefer the three-window coupe.
The car is owned by Bob Stewart, and his father Ed “Axle” Stewart built it.
“Axle” used to reconfigure front-axles for lowered front ride-height.
This car has one of his axles — “dropped” at each end.
Years ago I attended a car-show, and saw a ‘40 Ford coupe hot-rod.
I was thrilled it had a souped-up Flat-head.
P51A Mustang “Mrs. Virginia.” (Photo by Philip Makanna.)
—C) My April 2008 Ghosts WWII warbird calendar has a P51A Mustang.
As such it doesn’t have the later bubble-canopy or the Merlin engine.
The P51 Mustang is the result of a juxtaposition of war demand and the moxie of North American Aviation, the airplane’s manufacturer.
During WWII, the European Allies wanted to bomb behind German lines, and began doing so, but at great loss.
Escort fighter-planes at that time didn’t have the range to fly all the way to German targets, so the bombers were sitting ducks for German fighter-planes.
Many Allied bombers got shot down, and a B17 had a crew of 10.
So Allied Command desired an escort fighter that could fly the whole way on bombing raids.
At first, people were kicking around the P40 fighter-plane, idea being to improve its maneuverability and range.
But North American Aviation suggested it could build a better fighter than even the improved P40; viola, the NA-73X, genesis of the P51 (Americans evaluated the XP-51).
But the first P51 had only the Allison motor — same as the P38. —Nowhere near potential.
Later the more powerful Rolls-Royce Merlin engine was adapted; same motor that was in the British SuperMarine Spitfire — a real hot-rod.
Packard took over production of the Merlin in North America, and supposedly they were more reliable than the Rolls.
WHATEVER; the Merlin made the P51 a hot-rod too, and it was already a great airplane.
Plus it had the range to accompany bombers inside Germany; with fall-away gas-tanks (“drop-tanks”).
So the British bought into the P51 — to accompany bombers to German targets and return.
Later P51s adapted the bubble-canopy, a full plexiglass cockpit canopy in place of the individual window-panes on Mrs. Virginia.
It made the airplane even more more gorgeous.
Mrs. Virginia is only a P51A, Allison motor and no bubble canopy.
But still a great airplane.
“Hippo,” 1956. (Photo by Mike Usenia.)
—D) My April 2008 All-Pennsy Color Calendar is two Pennsylvania Railroad I1s Decapods (2-10-0) on the infamous Mt. Carmel ore-train.
In the ‘40s and ‘50s Pennsy would use four Deks to transport heavy ore-trains over the Mt. Carmel branch in northeastern Pennsylvania to a connection with Lehigh Valley Railroad.
They were a monstrous sight: two in front and two on the back. The route was mostly uphill so the Deks made a dramatic appearance.
The whole train would move slowly, with the Deks straining the whole way.
The I1s Decapod was Pennsy’s freight steam-locomotive up until WWII.
598 were built; 475 in a single order to Baldwin Locomotive Works.
The massive standard K4 boiler (which was also used on their 2-8-2 Mikado freighter) was enlarged, but not the firebox-grate which at 70 square feet was large for a Pacific (like the K4), but fairly small for a Dek.
The Dek had a number of limitations:
-1) It couldn’t boom-and-zoom. 50 mph was about all it could do. It rode rough (so rough, the crews abhorred them). 2-10-0 with 62 inch drivers is asking for trouble. Drivers that small can’t have enough counter-weighting to offset piston-thrust.
So up the speed and the engine bounces.
But a 2-10-0 could have massive tractive effort. Ten drivers are on the rail. Sand the rail and a 2-10-0 is immensely powerful.
-2) A Dek could run out of steam.
I have an ancient audio-recording of one stalling in Tyrone, Pa. The line was uphill (the Middle Division), but not very steep. —The poor Dek was puking out.
The Dek wasn’t SuperPower; that is, an even bigger boiler with a hundred square feet of grate area.
The firebox atop the drivers also limits combustion area.
Smaller wheels on a trailing-truck lower the firebox-grate, and increase the combustion area.
I think the Dek was the first Pennsy engine with feedwater-heat.
No feedwater-heat meant pumping cold water into the boiler; which reduced steaming capacity.
And at first they didn’t have fuel-stokers. It took two firemen hand-firing to keep up with coal consumption.
No stokers reduce steaming capacity.
Pennsy was loathe to add appliances that could increase steam capacity, figuring such appliances might kablooey.
Pennsy was also loathe to power two sets of drivers with a single boiler, a concept that flourished on rival Norfolk & Western Railroad, which had an even more challenging route profile than Pennsy.
Sadly, no real steam-locomotive development was done on Pennsy during the ‘30s, the era of SuperPower and great advances on Norfolk & Western.
Pennsy was pioneering electrification at that time, and had a surfeit of surplus steam-locomotives.
They also had plenty of bodies to man smaller engines.
They were rich enough to doublehead, where Norfolk & Western might run only one crew in a single steam-engine that could match the Pennsy doublehead for output.
So the Deks lasted until the end of Pennsy steam in 1957.
Allow for their deficiencies, and they could do a lot of work.
The Mt. Carmel ore-runs were an excellent application.
Plod along slowly, snorting and straining.
“Hippos” is what Pennsy crews called ‘em — because of their huge boilers.
I never saw any at all. My Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines in south Jersey was not strong enough to support a Dek.
Sadly, Pennsy did did not save a “Hippo” to its collection of significant steam-engines (now housed at Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania in Strasburg, Pa.).
The only remaining Hippo is stored outside near Buffalo. (#4483)
The twin canisters on the pilot are air-tanks.
Norfolk Southern freight waits in a siding at night near Salem, Ala. (Photo by Casey Thomason.)
—E) My Norfolk Southern Employees’ calendar for April 2008 features a Norfolk Southern freight waiting at night in a siding in Alabama next to a flowering Redbud tree.
What we have here is an old photographer trick; illuminating a train at night.
O. Winston Link used to set up 89 bazilyun flashbulbs along the Norfolk & Western (Railroad) main and fire them all off together to illuminate a passing train at night.
This shot takes advantage of a stopped train in a siding.
The photographer opens the shutter of his digital camera, and illuminates the entire length of the stopped train, one car after another, perhaps with his car headlights.
He also lit the redbud tree.
Westbound Aerotrain approaching Altoona, 1957. (Photo courtesy Bob’s Photo©.)
—E) My Audio-Visual Designs B&W All-Pennsy calendar is an uninspiring picture of the GM Aerotrain.
The Aerotrain was a flub; it wasn’t strong enough to endure railroad operation.
The coach bodies were GM bus-bodies, modified to be railroad cars.
Strong enough to be a bus, but not a railroad car.
The Aerotrain, glitzy and modern as it was, would fall to pieces underway, crippling the train.
It was GM’s attempt to break into the passenger-train market, and an attempt to modernize the passenger-train.
But it made the mistake of thinking it could get by on glitzy styling alone. Other GM entries in the railroad market, particularly diesel passenger and freight locomotives, were a smashing success, but Aerotrain was a failure.
A few railroads (e.g. Pennsy) got them, but quickly retired them, and went back to regular passenger-train operation, which was on its last legs anyway.
—F) My Three Stooges calendar is a waste — an outtake from a movie where the Stooges were being tossed out of some guy’s boudoir.
Curly is looking to the left, mouth gaping.
And Moe is mugging for the camera, a face that would only work for a second in a movie.
The Stooges are being themselves.
Another case of the Stooges coming off better in a movie than a photograph.
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