FIRING ORDER?
When I was a teeny-bopper, my parents
had a custard stand (Tastee Freeze, if you re-
member those) where I worked in the summer.
Since it was a seasonal business and I had car
payments to make all year plus various enter-
tainment expenses, I worked at the local Ford
dealership in the winter.
I started like any other kid, sweeping floors
and washing cars. I got along well with the old-
er guys and the shop manager (Jimmy Smith)
liked me so he started me on reconditioning
the used cars and was teaching me how to do
bodywork and paint. Painting is something I
still enjoy, although it’s just a hobby now. Any-
way, we had gotten a ’65 Galaxy that someone
traded and I needed to clean it up. I washed
it then worked on steam cleaning the engine.
Someone had tightened the valve covers too
much and warped them so they were leaking
pretty bad. The previous owner did a lot of driv-
ing on dirt roads and the oil and dust had built
up about a quarter-inch thick or better. Well,
I was having trouble since those pesky spark
plug wires were in the way, so I popped ’em all
off. When I finished cleaning, I put them back
on. This short one probably goes in front andthis longest one probably goes on the far side
in the back and so on.
Well guess what? It wouldn’t start. “Hey
Jimmy,” I said, “this thing won’t start!” “Well,
ya probably got water in the distributor. Wipe it
dry as best ya can and leave it sit until morn-
ing.” Seemed logical since it was quitting
time anyway. Next morning was Saturday and
when I arrived one of the mechanic’s hind
ends was sticking out from under hood of the
car in the wash bay. Greasy rag hanging out
from his back pocket. He was grumbling to
himself. Distributor was dry as a bone but it still
wouldn’t start.
Jimmy and I headed over at the same time.
Everything seemed right. It was together and
it was getting spark, fuel, and air. Jimmy said,
“Tell me exactly what you did.” “I steamed the
engine.” “No, tell me step by step.” “Uh, you
took the spark plug wires all off? Ever hear of a
thing called firing order?” “What’s that?” Seems
you have to put ’em back on in a certain order
or the thing won’t run. Imagine that. All the ele-
ments were there, just not at the right time.
Well, that’s just one story in the mechanical
education of myself.
CARL STROUP
VIA EMAIL8 OCTOBER 2019 FOUR WHEELER fourwheeler.com
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respond to every reader, but we do read everything.and never left me on the side of the road. I
finally retired the Scout from daily driving duties
in 1995 with 194,000 miles on it. Of course, its
reliability and good looks have come from me-
ticulous maintenance and plenty of repairs.
In 2000, following the passing of one of my
closest high school friends, Christian, due to
leukemia, the Scout received its most precious
upgrade, a personalized license plate set with
Christian’s name on it. He was my right-hand
man, and my navigator through many crazy
(and sometimes stupid) adventures in that
Scout. I am certain he smiles upon it every
time the Scout hits the road.
Of course, I have a few regrets, like not
keeping the Scout completely original with the
diesel engine. There have been many upgrades
to the SD33T motor that guys have performed
over the years (thanks to the Internet), and
the value on some of these original diesels is
phenomenal. Hindsight always being 20/20,
the Scout is a fixture in my family and my life.
Although I am often tempted to sell it and buy
a Wrangler JKU, it is still in my garage, still gets
the top removed every summer, and is still the
fun and unique truck it always was and will be.
It is also one of my fondest memories of spend-
ing time with my friend Christian, and that plus
all of the memories is why it will most likely
always stay in my garage.
TONY LALIOTIS
VIA EMAILSAFFRON YELLOW SKI SCOUT
I enjoyed reading the Trail’s End article at the
end of the May 2019 issue of Four Wheeler. I
decided I should write to you about my family’s
Scout, a trusty companion of 38 years.
It started one cold and wet day in 1981
when at the age of 10 I flew up to Portland,
Oregon, with my Dad to pick up this cool fam-
ily ski vehicle he had researched and found.
Later that morning we found ourselves at
Bisio Motors, the dealership of the IH legend
Ernie Bisio. My dad had tracked down the two
remaining brand-new ’80 Scout II Traveler
turbodiesels on the West Coast. We had our
choice between a white one and a yellow one.
Off we drove from Ernie’s lot in a brand-new
Saffron Yellow turbodiesel Scout. I thought it
was the coolest thing, especially because you
had to pull a lever to make the engine stop.
What an awesome road trip for a 10-year-old
kid from Oregon to the San Francisco Bay Area
in our brand-new Scout.
The Scout was our family ski vehicle and
made countless trips between our home in
the San Francisco Bay Area and our cabin in
Truckee, California. I cannot remember a time
that the Scout ever left us on the side of the
road. What a great snow vehicle, and it made
numerous trips into the Sierra Nevada moun-
tains to get to remote fishing holes. Just prior to
the rare 5-year/100,000-mile warranty expiring
on the drivetrain, the Nissan SD33T suffered
a blown head gasket. She ran just fine, but
would overheat under load. IH stepped up
and replaced the motor under warranty as the
pistons had cracked as well.
When I turned 16, my Dad handed me the
keys to the old Scout with a fresh motor. In
1987 the top came off for the first time, and
from then on it was one of the coolest trucks
a high school kid could have, hauling around
all of my friends, road trips to Tahoe and the
beach, and just generally raising heck. It alsoendured several trips to Hollister Hills. By the
end of high school, she had many battle scars
and the second SD33T had succumbed to an-
other blown head gasket and cracked pistons.
Out came the second SD33T and in went an
IH 345 with the original Thermo-Quad carbure-
tor from a wrecked ’80 Scout. The engine was
freshened up and the swap was performed
with all OEM parts. Completely smog legal, too!
So off to college the Scout and I went. Five
years and many great adventures in San Luis
Obispo, California, the Scout never let me downBY KEN BRUBAKER [email protected]