I’m not being lazy, I promise.
Since I bought this 1980 VC Holden Commodore SL/E from a suburban backyard, I’ve put a shed-find 1989 Mitsubishi Pajero back on the road, pulled a rusty green 1979 Holden Commodore V8 from a paddock and resurrected it, rebuilt a ’68 VW Bug from a bare shell to a tarmac terror; saved a tatty ’92 VP Commodore V8 sedan from certain death, worked a bit on my ’75 VW Super Bug race car project, tinkered with a ’90 VN Holden Calais V8… plus re-roaded another Pajero, and another ‘patina’ Commodore, and another, and another, and bought two more wagons and a sedan as future projects.
Lazy? Let’s call it ‘distracted’… My juggling of my project cars often makes my mates laugh.
Plus, since 2017 when I bought this VC Commodore SL/E, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year, in total, working away from home – from Hobart to Meekatharra; Margaret River to Fraser Island – which during those treks, chopped any chance of a couple of hours of work in my garage each evening.
But no matter what, this poor old Commodore SL/E sitting naked, stripped of its dignity, is a real shame.
Soon after I bought it, I disassembled its interior and doors with the intention of a relaxing and rewarding six-months-of-weekends restoring the body and paint. With the odometer showing just 57,000km, the 3.3-litre six-cylinder engine and Trimatic seemed in good condition so remained in the car.
Then all those other cars happened.
After a flash of guilt one day, I decided to do some work on this SL/E so I can get it painted, get it built and get it back on the road and cruising! I hooked up a battery, splashed some fuel down the carby and started it for the first time in several years, moving it from my carport to my garage, so I could recommence the body restoration.
I decided to let the engine fast-idle for a while to warm-up; circulate the oil and coolant and blow out any cobwebs. But after a couple of minutes, the engine developed a lope; a misfire.
I kicked-off the automatic choke and at idle the lope became more obvious. I gave the engine a few decent revs… No change. In fact, the lope became worse. Running an infra-red temperature gun along the exhaust manifold showed two cylinders to be dead.
Oh, no… I don’t need this!
To cut a long story short, investigating further revealed two valves jammed open and two bent pushrods.
Oh, no… I really don’t need this!
My pleasant weekend re-starting on the bodywork of the SL/E was now to be spent gettin’ greasy: the cylinder head needed to come off the motor to fix those jammed-open valves.
After having a chat with a mate, I took the head to a local old-school engine reconditioner/builder, Pryce Engines. The staff took one look at – and one sniff of – the cylinder head and suggested the cause was stale fuel gumming up the valves, jamming them open. I’ve always been aware that engines don’t enjoy drinking stale fuel (old petrol doesn’t burn nicely) but I didn’t know it caused this!
The head was disassembled, cleaned and inspected. One valve guide boss was cracked so Pryce fixed it with an insert and the head given a general tidy-up before I re-fitted it to the car with – of course – new gaskets and fresh fluids.
The engine is now running smoothly again, but the damaged cylinder head was a frustrating and time-consuming set-back.
Now it’s fixed, I can get back into the body… but this engine situation is just another reminder that when playing with old cars, things don’t always go the way you hope!