I am not always this stupid.

Seriously. I just want to get that out there, because as you read this saga, you are bound to wonder “WTF was he thinking?!” And that’s fine. I often have had the same thoughts myself, in retrospect. Sometimes 5 minutes later.

It all started with me trying to find a 4 wheel drive vehicle for my wife to take up to our cabin. We just needed a cheap ride with some ground clearance and the ability to make all 4 wheels churn. Easy, right?

As I surfed through Craigslist and other online classifieds, I was consistently disappointed with the options. Too expensive, or too used up, or boring, or just plain junk.

After several uninspiring weeks, I ran across a nice looking 1971 CJ5 a short drive away. Sure, there were other Jeeps out there, newer Jeeps that were closer or better equipped, but I liked the simplicity. Or at least it started simple enough. Wished it would have stayed that way.

Then, less than 2 weeks later, I ran across another CJ5 that looked identical, at first glance. It was in the next town over. It didn’t cost that much more and seemed better sorted out. Seemed.

This is their story. And mine dealing with them. I went into this adventure not really knowing much about Jeeps. We already owned a 2013 Jeep Wrangler Unlimited Rubicon, but it just worked. I knew nothing of “real” Jeeps.

I have always been mechanically inclined, thanks to my dad’s hands on training. I know which way to turn a wrench and how to measure and adjust differential backlash; but when it came to learning “what the hell is that” and “stock or hillbilly with a welder and a 12 pack”, I had everything to learn. You could say I was CJ dumb.

This collection of words is our journey of owning, wrenching and sometimes actually driving, not one, but two CJ5s… buying them about 2 weeks apart. It was a bumpy road, to be sure. A tale of two Jeeps, if you will.

I have to give my wife Kim all the credit for putting up with this lunacy. Her patience and/or just plain denial of the trials of this endeavor are thoroughly epic. Thanks babe! I hope this ends well.

Please take note that I began writing this shortly after the honeymoon phase of CJ ownership and have been updating it as we progressed. I have no idea where this road is headed, much less how to get there. So, sit down, hang on, whoop with joy on the bumps and swear along with us as we hit the potholes. Let’s hit the trail….

Weeks of trolling through Craigslist and local used car lots and nothing had caught my eye. It was either too expensive, too far gone or enough miles to haven driven to the moon and back. The search for a 4 wheel drive for my wife was not looking promising.

Until one faithful day, that is. I ran across a beautiful Sunset Orange CJ5 down in Vegas. It was a 1971 with the odd-fire Buick motor. “Everything works” the ad claimed, which would be a miracle for a Jeep that old. For Jeep that was older than me, I knew there would be baggage. Heck, just look at all that I have. 

As I drove the couple hours down there, I was reminded of my first ever car buying experience. I was 15 and I have been saving up but my wallet wasn’t fat. My parents and I had this deal that if I got As in school, they would pay for half of my first car. But even doubling my budget didn’t get me that far into the “it runs” pile, much less the “reliable” category. 

So I looked for the fixer uppers. Something cheap that needed work. AKA the rust buckets. AKA the shit boxes. 

I also wanted something old and fun. There isn’t much overlap on that Venn diagram. Undettered, I eventually ran across a Ford Falcon Ranchero. It had beautiful long lines and a V8. And was a complete rust bucket that had been sitting under a tree since before I was born. But it was salvageable, I thought, and I was in love and so we towed it home and parked it. 

Where it sat. 

Every time I looked at it, the rust got worse. Brake lines, fuel lines, fuel tank… all gone. All fenders were rotten from the inside. What looked like surface rust was systemic cancer. I was afraid a hard wind would blow it all away. 

We ended up abandoning it in lieu of a 1972 Honda N600 that needed assembly and paint, but at least was solid. My mother reminded me that the Ranchero sat under our carport, in HER spot, while acorns rained down on her new minivan. She finally put her foot down and gave us 2 weeks to get rid of it before she had it towed to the junkyard. We put it up for sale and it sold. I waved goodbye with a tear in my eye and a hard lesson learned: don’t let your emotions dictate your purchases. 

I’m not sure that lesson stuck. 

When I arrived and looked at the CJ, it was actually in better shape than I expected. A little rot at the body braces, a little bondo here and there, just starting to crack. But the body and paint were good enough to look good from 15 feet away or 15mph. 

Crawling under the CJ, as one does, I noticed a wiring hanging loose about 2 inches from a bare terminal. It was a simple plug in. I vaguely wondered what that was without bothering to see what the sensor was for. While crawling over the rest of the Jeep, the owner mentioned that the brake lights hadn’t worked the night before. Now, what I plugged in didn’t remind me of a brake switch, but I tried the brakes and magic! the lights worked again. 

I went back under and looked again at the switch. It was a spring loaded plastic toggle switch, the kind for making silly electrical projects with your nephew, mounted in the way of the brake lever. It was simple and effective, yet I questioned its waterproofness and long-term reliability. 

Moving on… 

As far as history, I didn’t get much good intel. You see, the current owner had acquired this particular CJ5 from an old rental tenant of hers that moved several states away and just sold her the jeep on the cheap. She had another tenant of hers go through the CJ and get it saleable in exchange for a couple months of rent. He actually did a pretty good job of fixing all the little stuff, it seemed. Beyond that, it’s history has been forgotten like yesterday’s news. Time to move forward. 

We hop in for a short drive. The brakes are manual drum brakes she warns me. That was too be expected. It fired right up with a raucous roar and backed up with no issues. Threw it in 1st (left and down, don’t forget) and it actually barked the tires setting off. Plenty of torque, good power… Makes me want to laugh. I probably did. 

I pop it into neutral and start braking extremely early for stop sign… as in a full residential block early, just in case. It was completely necessary. It took a lot of leg to slow it to a stop, which happened to be just after the stop sign but before the crossroad. The brakes were like your least-favorite coworker: they are there, they just didn’t do anything. 

Now I know what to expect and let the engine help slow us down. The rest of the drive is a smile growing assault of NHV, noise harshness and vibration. It bounces like a 3 year old kid after 14 pixy sticks. Jumps out of its own way on the gas and is having so much fun it can barely be stopped. And it isn’t quiet about it. 

As for the rest, the HVAC ducting is non-existent. The wiring makes one laugh like the Joker. But it was solid and straight on the frame and looked good enough. There are no major issues, at least nothing big enough to dissuade the kid in me from buying a new toy. 

What lesson learned? 

Negotiate, throw money at seller, hook it up to flat tow and book it home. No major issues towing except for slow speed sharp maneuvers in parking lots. It follows me home like the proverbial puppy. I expected much worse and the entire way home I kept envisioning movie style crashes and explosions with oncoming traffic. But we made it home without making the 6 o’clock news.   

I now own my first old Jeep. Or, more dramatically… And so it begins.

At work, trolling for CJ parts, as one does, and I just happen to run across another CJ5 for sale. 1975 V8, 4 speed. Same color as Homer. Looks like the 71, just grown up a few years. The asking price wasn’t too much higher than what I just paid for the 71.

The wife, in a complete and utter failure of being the adult in this relationship, told me to go ahead and take a look at it. So, grinning like a 6yo who cons both his parents into getting him ice cream in the same day, I head off.

The 75 has a bit more work done on the body, much less time and/or money spent prepping before paint, so while it looks good, you have to be about 30 feet away. It has 33″ Super Swampers on it. Talk about some good road noise makers. It also has some fun mods. Spare tire mount on back, a homemade rack for holding 2 cans of gas/water and a cooler on top (that may or may not fall off at any time), rear seat with locker underneath and a winch. It has a 4 speed T18, with first being a rock crawler gear. This one might be a lot of fun offroad.

Asking about the history, the CJ has been tossed around between the current owner, his brother, a brother-in-law and back to the current owner. Supposedly, the owner and his brother were “smart” about their modifications, but not so with the BIL. A built-in scapegoat for everything that is wonky.

It seems generally well kept up. Definitely has a harder life than Homer out on the rocks, but she fires up and runs well. Pulls a bit during braking and I just assume the drums need adjusting.

After the drive, the PO and I chat about Jeeps for too long and I finally throw a number and him and end up with CJ5 #2. My wife is going to be so happy.

The PO has a tow bar setup, custom, of course. I attach it easily and realize I don’t have safety chains. It is a 20 miles drive back, and I’ll be going slow. Me and my new Jeep head to the DMV and make it official.

It doesn’t tow quite as faithfully as Homer, with more wandering around but stay back there fairly well.

Just as I brake to turn into my driveway, I hear a loud “tink” sound and watch in my rear-view as my newest CJ rolls forward and smacks my JKU in the rear bumper.

In the episode “Life on the Fast Lane”, Homer gets Marge a bowling ball for her birthday… With his name engraved on it and drilled for his fingers. Since I was supposed to be looking for an off road vehicle for my wife… And ended up with something she wasn’t likely to drive… The name just fit.

After getting him home and checking a few things over, I take it for a spin on a dirt road. Only one thought rattled through my head: this thing rides like a military jeep!

I am all grins, but two things need urgent fixing: brakes and exhaust leaks. But it wasn’t bad enough to not drive it to our cabin, right? I loaded it up with tools to work on the cabin (which also needs a lot of work, and I might need the tools for Homer anyway) and set off.

It was rough, bounced like nuts, but stayed running and on the road both there and back. Getting back was a bigger accomplishment than it sounds.

Now coming back down, the two big issues came into play. It was a somewhat paved road (read really badly potholed, one and a half lane) that descended rapidly off a mesa. Down is the key word. On the left, there are no guardrails. Maybe a bush between the edge of the road and a long tumble into oblivion.

So I went down in 1st for a while, but it was extremely slow going and the motor was revving like a cat in a blender. Second gear worked great except for the steep parts when you had to stand on the brakes hard. In those cases, he had a tendency to lock up the left rear, which is really fun with a short wheel base on a skinny road with no guardrail between you and impending death.

But we made it down. I did not die. Did I mention there were no rubber boots on the floor abound anything? Around every pedal, every shifter, you could see the ground go by. This let in a lot of exhaust that was escaping the headers in various spots.

And for some reason, the shifters seem shifted (ha) to the rear about 2 inches. The transfer case shifters (yes, both of them) hit the tub when fully back. There was the unexplained 2″ square tube spacing the right side of the transmission skid plate down that I suspect had something to do with it. More on that later.

After surviving the trip to the cabin and back, I determined that Homer needed to go under the wrench before any more joy rides. Something about self preservation.

To my surprise, the hitch was still mounted to the ball, but the front of the A-frame tow bar has torn loose from the hitch. Further inspection showed that the bottom weld did not penetrate at all and the top piece of sheet steel just fatigued from carrying the entire load. As for damage, this is where I thank the solid rear JKU aftermarket bumper, the rear mounted tire and the solid front CJ bumper. The damage is limited to a bent right front fender on the CJ, and even that isn’t bad.

I pulled off the tow bar and drove it into the garage. Did I mention that I didn’t use safety chains? What about the last 10 miles of 65mph 2 lane, uphill twists? I can honestly say that I was so relieved that I made it home without the CJ drifting into oncoming traffic or taking an unsupervised ride through the dessert hills that I couldn’t be angry.

In talking to the PO later and showing him the picture of the separated tow bar, he was in shock as he towed with that setup from several hours north.

Lesson learned: check welds periodically on homemade mods. Especially those critical, single weld joint.

Now that it is home, I start going over the critical systems. I’m not planning on doing the same daredevil drive I took Homer out for his initiation. Generally, it looks good, just used. Nothing I didn’t already know, but I start the list of things to repair and prioritize them. I determine nothing is a critical show stopper.

I actually drive it to work one day when it is nice and warm. The 33″ Super Swampers howl the whole way. I laugh at the thought of a radio blaring away unlistened to under the growl of the tires, the rush of wind and the flapping of the bikini top.  Luckily, there is no radio.

The steering isn’t bad, but you do have to pay attention. Brakes good, but I’m reminded they need adjustment. All the way to work and back I am just grinning like a loonie in the asylum.

A few days later, I have some time to myself, so I decide it’s time for the proper initiation. I jump in to take a ride up to the cabin, as that is the stated goal of this joy ride. Throw all my stuff for the day in a backpack, toss it in and take off.

The road starts out as a badly degraded “paved” road as it ascends up a very steep, winding road, with no guardrails. That was some bouncy riding! Lots of “whoops!” and “oafs!” as I failed to miss the potholes and bumps. I am starting to realize the need for a greased suspension and some working shocks.

Eventually, the road mercifully turns to a relatively flat dirt road, minus the one substantial uphill with flat rock slabs positioned randomly. But the Deuce is taking it well. Not smooth, but well. Nothing is stopping this beast.

A statement I soon realize is incorrect.

After about 6 miles of dirt, she throws out a backfire and stumbles a bit, but keeps popping. Around the next corner, she decides that she’s has enough. Engine goes quiet and I coast to a stop. As an initial worry, I glance at the gas gage and it shows just under 1/2 tank.

Well, shit. (I have a feeling that I’ll be saying that a lot.) I pop the hood and check for gremlins. I recall the backfiring and remember the PO said something about the distributor hold down clamp loosening on its own until he bent a giant washer to hold it down. Grab the distributor and give it a twist. It rotates fairly easily. Great. (That is not the word I used.) I assume all the bouncing caused the timing to drift.

Thinking the adjustment is just a bit out, I try rotating the distributor in small increments and trying the starter. Not even a single pop of spark.

After 20 minutes of swear-filled frustration, I give up, grab my bug out bag and begin hiking back to cell coverage. I guess the honeymoon is over.

A few days after my near death decent off the mesa in Homer, I decide to look at the brakes. Put it on jacks, pull the wheels off (only 4 styles and 2 sizes of lugs nuts) and instantly notice that there a lug nut loose on one of the front wheel spacers. No biggie, there were 4 others holding it on. Grab the 21mm and… Huh? It won’t fit into the hole. Check the lug I just removed. 21mm. Grab my thin walled socket… No dice. At this point, I have no idea how they got these lugs tight, much less how I’m going to remove them. I leave it be as I have to run off to work.

This is my first major instance of brain malfunction on my part (ignoring everything that happened previously). I had worked on cars that were either relatively new (all metric) or old and foreign (all metric) with the exception of a 96 Camaro Z28… which was a bastard child with all the new components metric and all the old tech being SAE.

But it took a few days for my two brain cells to connect. Try standard sockets, dumbass. Well, I was used to 3/4″ and 21mm as the substitute. Neither of which would fit, either in the spacer hole or on the lug nut. It wasn’t until digging under the passenger seat box, where I found an old socket on an extension, and read 13/16″ that there was a mental spark.

SOAB. Step back, stare at the socket (nice and thin walled 12 point) and the spacer, and try a test fit. Let’s just say it was a tight fit. But it fit and it took off the lug nuts. Some had to be “tapped” on with a hammer, but they all eventually succumbed to the impact.

During the tapping on, some didn’t sit correctly on the lug nut and damages the top part of the hex. Like I said, it was a tight fit and the socket would not rotate freely as it engaged the nut. After the 2nd one, I learned to hold the socket with a monkey wrench and slowly turning it as I tapped the end with a hammer. After that it was quick work. Welp, I would need some new lug nuts to reinstall them, but it wasn’t as if all 10 of the spacer nuts matched anyway.

With the spacers off, the drums were easy to remove and the inspection showed that they looked functional, just poorly adjusted. Nothing looked too out of the ordinary. On 3 out of 4.

On the left rear that was locking up, sure enough, there was grease leaking from the axle seal. That was expected, giving the locking issue. Made awesomely quick left hard turns when braking. 

Trying to figure out if the brake system was just horrible or if there was something wrong, I jumped on the interwebs. After days of reading about possible upgrades and rusted horror stories, I ran across someone with a similar issue. One of the helpful replies said to look at the master cylinder and check that the front and rear weren’t hooked up backwards. It sounded silly, but kind of described the feeling of Homer…like the rear had more brake than the fronts.

Sure enough, some previous owner had hooked the forward most master cylinder outlet to the front brakes and the rear-most to the rear. Ugh, that’s not how a master cylinder works. At least that would be an easy fix.

The rear axle seal, on the other hand, was going to be fun. You have to pull the axle shaft and then remove the bearing. I guess it was time for new bearings! Besides being caked in old grease, dirt and brake dust, it was easy. The old trick of using the drum loosely installed backwards on the lugs as a slide hammer worked so good I wasn’t prepared for the axle to come out.

The seal was definitely worn and leaking but the bearing looked and felt good. A shame as it has to come off. So, I order the parts and sit back and wait.

Oh wait, I have this other CJ to play with.

But before abandoning Homer for the new girl, I put together a list of things to check or that needs work.

• Brakes: as discussed these need improvements. While fixing everything should help, I am not convinced that the little 9″ drums are going to cut it with 33″ tires that came with the jeep. We shall see.
• Exhaust gas leaks: cracked headers, leaks after muffler and maybe header gaskets too? Tons of holes in the floorboard that need boots or filled.
• No e-brake. It has the handle and cable, but is completely missing the drum off the back of the transmission.
• Engine and trans shifted: they are about 1.5″ to the rear which may have something to do with the 2″ square tube spacer on the right side of transmission skid plate to frame.
• Left rear lockup: known issue, parts on order. Hopefully they fix the problem.
• Gages: what works, what doesn’t, and can they be trusted.
• No heater ducting: not a high priority.
• Shocks and springs? It feels like I need them. Badly.
• Grease shackles and rest of suspension.
• Replace all fluids. Check diffs and cut open oil filter.
• Need to inspect forward driveshaft as there is some play in it

See? That’s not too bad. It’s not the entire CJ that needs fixed…

Back to the broken down Deuce…

Knowing that the A-frame tow bar from the PO was shit, and still broken, I unbolted the front bumper off Homer at home, grabbed his tow bar which is much more substantial, and a bag of tools to mount a rescue. I could only hope that the front bumper would fit. Sure, the internet assured me that the replacement front bumpers fit everything from the Cretaceous period to 1986, but there was 40 years of PO fuckery that may have taken place.

When I get there, the holes seem to line up, so I start disassembling. This is where I notice the winch, or at least part of it, needs to go. I take the hook off the end of the cable so that I can slip the line through the fairlead and remove the bumper. Throw the new bumper on and start whacking with a rubber mallet. I can get the left or the right to line up, but not both. The frame rails are the same size and distance apart, but the winch plate is mounted too far forward. More swearing.

I start to take out the bolts. The fronts are easy, but everything else is old and not easily moved. Through some PB blaster and some verbal lubrication, I finally get all the bolts lose enough to pry up the front of the winch plate and smash the bumper under it. Hammer to the rescue! Bolt it up, attach the tow bar, double check all the bolt and start home.

Remember the steep, steep degraded road with no guardrails from the last chapter? I went down that towing at 5mph max the whole way. I did have safety chains attached this time and got out at least twice to check bolts and welds.

Going that slow, you can take in the beautiful scenery and appreciate how far down the hill falls off on my left. And the distinct lack of guardrails.

After what seemed like hours of slow yet stressful downhill descent, we finally made it home safe. I am all out of four letter words.  My jaw is a bit tired from clenching shut.   But we made it.

To start digging into the issue, I take off the distributor and its horrible, horrible hold down… thing. It isn’t a bracket, but two flat, bent curved pieces of metal. Image a c shape, but in two different dimensions. And the extra bent washer piece the PO installed fell off too. Just look at it.

A bit bewildered, I can’t figure out how it is supposed to keep the distributor from moving. Well, it doesn’t. Thanks to all my internet friends that I’ve never met, I was able to find an online copy of the service manual and… the stock part is a nice levered bracket. Go figure.

Looking online, I can buy an original used part, only 43 years old, for $65, or a new reproduction by a guy in Ohio for $35. Duh, the new one it is.

While I have to wait for the bracket, I start researching distributors. I like the HEI upgrade and order the parts for that. I decided to completely pull the distributor to inspect the old one and am greeted with the bad news of the day. The distributor hold down bracket bolt hole has been stripped and helicoiled. However, someone over tightened the helicoil and now that was a jumble of broken pieces. So there was no way the old distributor was going to stay in place.

Well, shit.

By now, I think you start to see the double meaning in the name “The Deuce”. It is not purely because it was the second CJ I bought.

After cleaning it up, I realize that there are good threads, and a fair bit, at the bottom of the bolt hole. Luckily, they had used a stubby bolt to secure the distributor when they stripped it. Yeah?

I found a nice long bolt that threaded in nicely. Crisis averted. At least I hope most of the helicoil bits came out the top and didn’t go on an unsupervised tour of the engine.

I also notice that the fan-alternator belt is old and cracked and there is a radiator hose clamp that is touching the suspect belt. While at the parts store, I grab two. Never hurts to have a spare, right? Get home and throw it on. But the alternator is all the way out and the belt is barely tight. Great, now I have to find a slightly shorter belt. At least I have a spare.

The rest of the parts show up, get installed, hit the key and… nothing. I have to say, having the right parts does wonders as the distributor hold down bracket does its job well when bolted down. But I was starting to think it wasn’t a spark issue.

All the time turning it over, I never smelled gas. Pull the carb supply hose… Dry. Pull the line into the filter… Dry. Pull the line feeding the mechanical fuel pump… Dry.

Well, shit.

I tested the pump by trying to pump out of a jar. Only a dribble came out. If I sealed the end, it would create enough vacuum to pull in fluid, but lose it immediately. I even add some extra fuel to the tank, just in case there is a pickup problem. I can only conclude that the diaphragm must be torn. Off to buy a fuel pump. Actually, I have to wait a few days because my wife and I run a small business that takes a lot of our time, and it is in the opposite direction of the parts stores.

Finally get the replacement pump, slap that baby on and it is instantly pumping more fuel! Yes! So, try again with the coil fuse back in… and it sounds like she wants to start, but it is more backfire than anything. I kind of figured that it might not fire well because the timing was all dorked up with the new distributor.

See, I had talked to the PO and he mentioned that he thought the harmonic balancer slipped or was installed wrong, causing the TDC timing mark to be off. I did the test where you cork the #1 cylinder and when it pops out you slowly finish turning the crack until it tops out. Sounds good, in theory. That and adjusting the distributor to #1 was a close guess.

I decide to check for the compression cycle with an actual compression gage. Yep, I had set up the timing 180 degrees out. That’s what I get for late night work sessions. Also, I believe I used a plug that came loose too easily… so easily that it blew out during the exhaust stroke. Excuses, excuses. Turns out, the timing marks were correct.

I rewire the plugs at the distributor and cross my fingers. Vroom! It’s alive! At least for a few seconds at a time. I guess I shouldn’t expect 100% success. But I am staying positive and as long as I give it gas, she runs. She will idle for a short time and then die. With help from the wife, she blimps the throttle when it is close to dying and together we manage to get the thing timed. Sweet!

It sounds great… until the motor dies a few seconds later. Sigh.

The next step is trying figure out why she won’t idle. Looking around the carburetor for clues, I see an open port at the front. A quick look in the manual revels that it is a PCV port. I turn around to face away from the Jeep and there it is, 10 feet away in front of the CJ. Seems when the carb backfires, the back pressure can launch things like vacuum plugs.

Replace the vacuum plug and… She runs! She idles! Sweet Jesus on Toast! I cackle with mad laugher like Dr. Frankenstein. But enough celebrating, as there is more work to do.

I notice a little dampness in lower right of the radiator. It isn’t the drain petcock, or not the part that drains when opens, but around where it mounts to the radiator tank. It is just a minor weep, that doesn’t actually drip. I’ll save that problem for later as I deem it far down the list.

The steering damper was pitted and leaking on the floor, so I decide to fix this issue quickly. Or tried to. I head to the store and order one for morning pickup. The next morning, I run and grab the damper and start tearing the old one out. The U bolt holding the axle end was stripped on one end and over tightened on the other, and the tierod u-bolts were just plain loose. To make matters worse, I got the wrong damper from the parts store. Figures.

Why hadn’t I opened the box at the parts store to verify it would work? The picture on the outside of the box showed the style I needed and expected. Stupid box. Oh well, back down the hill. Just check your parts before leaving the store, OK?

I decided to drive the Deuce down into town to get the replacement without the steering damper installed. To be honest, the steering was fine, if not better than before. Maybe a loosely mounted blown shock is worse than nothing at all. Go figure. I decided to replace it anyway.

I found the right (or close enough) u-bolt at Tractor Supply. God, I love that hillbilly store.

While at the parts store, I found a replacement air cleaner, a nice big 14″, but it wasn’t just the filter. It came with the top and bottom lids, just recessed down onto the carb. Oh well, it works fine, but seems a bit wasteful to buy the whole thing. Still, I needed a new filter and this is how it came.

Head back home. Of course I smelled gas after the drive to parts store, as I do every time after driving it, but this time I am determined to find out the cause. I finally noticed that the tank looked to have had the dirt washed down the sides. Look at top of tank. It is covered in fuel. Not a little, but Deep Water Horizon style fuel spill. Rolling molotov cocktail.

Well, that explains the gas smell.

Looking in from the back, I can see the return line was half off and torn, spraying fuel everywhere. That means removing the skid plate and dropping the tank enough on the left to access top of tank through back.

At this point, I feel like explaining the hardware situation on this CJ. It was not optimal. On the skid plate, there are four tiny #10 bolts of various lengths up front with a total of one washer. There are four bolts at the rear, four DIFFERENT bolts, that threaded into the rear crossmember. Three of those were stripped with no real thread left, but two had nuts on top that were actually easy to get to. Of the five bolts holding the tank on, there were three, one of which was loose. So on the front of the tank, the top of the bracket that bolts to crossmember was one bumpy dirt road front coming loose. I guess the skid plate would catch it. It’s only the gas tank.

With the return line trimmed back to good hose and tightened, I lifted the tank back into place. It was a tight fit with the left seam of the tank needing to be pried up into place over the edge of the frame rail. What’s an 1/8″ interference between friends?

The one back bolt that was missing was a bear to get started. The bracket it attached to kept getting pushed aside by the tank itself. After loosening the bracket and more swearing than a boy scout camp, it finally started and went together.

Up front, I used some new bolts with washers and lock washers. Unfortunately, I do not have much SAE bolts lying around, so I end up using metric. Time to stock up on SAE hardware and replace that before I forget.

Awesome, that is done and I can go to bed.

In the morning, I can’t wait to drive it to work. Fire it up, back out of the garage… And it dies. Silly cold carbs. Hit the key and it chugs a few times and dies again. Next time, no chugging. No firing. Nothing.

Well, except the swearing.

At least it is easy to push back into the garage.

The next day I look it over. I inspect the lines on top of the tank, as best I can as it is now fully mounted. I check all the other lines around the engine. Pull off the return line at filter to let it breath. Not a drop. Pull line into filter and crank it over. An old racecar driver comes to mind… Dick Trickle. One unhelpful thought comes to mind: man does this thing have an awesome starter and battery.

So, no fuel from tank, but I just checked it after replacing the fuel pump. So, back under the jeep to follow the lines from front to rear. Did I mention that the PO had used long rubber hoses from the tank to the carb for both supply and return lines, zip tied to the old hard line, of course? So leaks are a very real concern.

Looking at the hose, it is up to 10 years old, judging by date on hose. Lying under the rear diff, I happened to glance up at the front of the tank where it lays behind the crossmember. Is that a bit of rubber caught between the two? Yep. SOAB, this means dropping the tank again. Joy.

It took a little longer as I actually had more bolts to remove now. But it came down and I saw that there was a ton of extra hose that was looped around on top of the tank. So much, that the supply hose fell forward and got pinched between the tank and crossmember when raising the tank into place. Moving the hose around and a zip tie controlled that issue. Remount the tank, the skid plate and double check the lines. All good!

Hit the key and… Wait for the fuel to get to the carb… And on the third try she fires! I quickly shut it down because 1) it is after midnight and 2) I’m in a mainly closed garage. Call it a night and hit the shower.

Next morning, I fire it up. Yes! Back it out and let it idle. It sounds good and even, after the timing setup, although it lopes a bit on the cam. I remember back to the PO saying that they had some guy custom grind a cam that was good for low end torque. One day, I’ll have to have that checked out.

I decide to check on the engine while it is running. What do I see but a nice spray of fuel on top of the motor. Aw shit.

Turn it off and see that the line from the fuel filter, the new fuel filter, was split where someone had over tightened the hose clamp. Pull off both lines out of filter, cut them back to good hose, mop up the large puddles of gas off the engine (nice fire hazard there) and wait for the fumes to evaporate. I just want to drive this thing to work!

Moment of truth (attempt 14, maybe) : give it a start and she fires right up. Sounds good, no leaks from front to rear. I let her idle for a few minutes while checking everything out. Looks good so I take it for a spin around the neighborhood. She works great. Easy acceleration, brakes straight, idles at stops and goes when told. Sweet! I am stoked. Time to head to work.

Or at least the first 10 miles.

Just a few miles from work, she started missing on a couple of cylinders. Sounded like she needed to clear her throat. I pull over and blip the throttle a few times, and she runs well. All gages look decent except the voltmeter is showing a little less than 12v, I assume from the long alternator belt. Got almost a half tank of gas.

Shrug.

Take off again and she goes 1/2 mile before throwing another tantrum. At times, it sounds like the entire left bank is not firing. Throw in the towel and throw out the swear words.

I begrudgingly pull over again and park it. She stumbles to a stop and calls it a day. I check under the hood, but nothing is obviously wrong. I close the hood muttering like a sailor with a stubbed toe, grab my bug out bag and start hiking.

It is a beautiful day for a hike. I am 6 miles from work.

Luckily a friendly couple in a newer, actually running jeep (I’m starting to think these are myths), pull over and give me a lift to work. He used to own a 53 with a 4 cylinder, so he understands. Thanks for the lift Jimmy & Jo!

Looks like I have more work to do.

One question I always get is: how do you tell them apart? Now I understand how the parents of fraternal twins feel. I swear it is easy.

The Deuce sits higher, has black fender flairs, comically knobby tires, a double roll cage hoop, and somehow just looks… angrier? Homer just looks like he is out to have some fun.

When I finally got the two CJ jokers side by side in the garage, I slowly started to understand just how different they really were. Almost nothing important really matched up. Seems I bought a late early-CJ5 and an intermediate CJ5. While quite a bit of hardware can mingle on both sides of the garage, most of my issues seem to highlight all the differences.

Here are some of the differences I noticed initially:

• Axles. They both have Dana 44s in the rear, but the diff is centered on the 75 and offset right on the 71.
• Steering systems, Homer’s is mounted by the firewall while the Deuce’s is up in front of the axle, however both are sloppy
• Pedals, lower vs upper pivot
• Master cylinder, frame rail vs firewall
• Engine, obviously, which all the accessories including cooling
• Heater, Homer has none

Here are the similarities :

• wheels/tires
• front bumper (important!)
• seats, maybe

Beyond the mechanical differences, they acted very differently. While they both wandered down the road, due to worn out parts, the steering felt rather different.  Homer was lighter and more nimble where the Deuce felt as big as she looks. Both were non-power steering boxes, so slow steering was tough. Luckily, the stock giant steering wheels helped.

The original suspensions were both shot. Stiff, old leaf springs and dead shocks. Both rode like skateboards. Hard on the kidneys. They just bounced down the road and would randomly change directions after hitting bumps.

The Deuce had the added benefit of wobbling like a top when you got out. And while you drove. It was fun, in a drunken boat ride kind of way. Since a few of the body mount were rotten, that probably didn’t help.

The Deuce had a ton more power with the V8 vs the V6. It would just leap out of the way. Homer was definitely slower but that was greatly improved after the carb rebuild and actually setting the timing. Still, it was nothing compared to the Deuce’s 304. Too much power and random steering changes added a rather kamakazi approach to passing people.

For brakes, they both initially sucked. Of course, they might be better when adjusted right. Luckily, both would slow down greatly just off throttle. And they both behaved much better after repairs.

Now for the seat-of-the-pants feel… literally. The seats in Homer were low backed and caused a bit of back pain where the seat ended. Some of that was due to where the seat was mounted. As far back as possible, but sitting high the adjusters. So I removed the sliders and mounted the seat lower. That helped the steering wheel to gut distance, but made my knees stick up rather high. Oh well, it was slightly better. Meanwhile, the Deuce had higher mid-back seats. Which would be more comfortable if they weren’t worn out.

When it comes down to it, they are both fun to drive. The Deuce is definitely more aggressive and takes a bit more focus. Homer likes going slower, mainly due to the gearing. They both put a smile on my face.

That night after work, we grab the tow bar from home and drag the Deuce back to its garage spot. It is now 3 to 1 on towing versus driving home.

Assuming that the hose that was crushed developed a leak, I grab some fuel hose while in town. The old hose ends were cracked and I have already trimmed back the ends on every piece. I did my usual check from the carb back, and every line is dry. Check the gas gage and it is just below half tank. The gage even wobbles as I hop out.

Did I mention that the shocks need replacement? It wobbles like jello when I jump out.

At the fuel pump, I pull the hose and put on a hand pump. Nothing. Seems to support the leaky line, or a bad pickup unit. Drop the left side and the tank. I’m really getting good at that. Pull the hose and plug the hand pump onto the outlet. Nothing. Must be the pickup. Great. Only that isn’t the word I used.

I disconnect everything and prepare to drop the tank completely. Just before lowering it, I drop the pickup of the hand pump into the filler neck to empty the tank. I get nothing. Huh? Is this pump working? Pull the suction end out, which is wet with gas, put my finger over the end and the pump works fine. OK. I get that annoyed feeling.

I drop the tank the rest of the way and don’t feel any sloshing. More than an annoyed feeling.

Loosen the sending ring and pull out the sending unit. There is less than 1/4″ of fuel in the bottom corner. Sure sheathing hatred.

Stop laughing Brian.

I should explain: Brian was my college roommate and we were best men at each other’s weddings. I’d call him my best friend, if guys had such things. It is a rather emotionally abusive relationship. At least it goes both ways.

Back when I worked for GM, I bought the cheapest S10 I could to drive to work, as the union workers didn’t share my affinity of foreign cars. While still under warranty, it sat in my driveway and refuse to start. I had it towed to the dealership only for them to tell me it was out of gas. Meanwhile, the gage happily indicated 1/4 tank. It was a known issue and they replaced the sending unit under warranty with a new, better part.

Or so they claimed. Several months later, it happened again, this time while driving. Let’s just say Brian thought this was hilarious. Like gasping for air, can’t talk, thinks he broke a rib funny.

His point was that we all know GM makes junk and that I trusted their gage… Twice. After that, I used the trip odo religiously.

I can not tell Brian that I just ran out of gas. Nope. In fact, I don’t think he knows that I bought a second CJ at this point. He’s going to have a field day.

At least there were some good points in dropping the tank. I can see that the return line brazing is cracked on top of the tank. The electrical connection to the level sensor is loose through the top of the sending unit. The fuel hose was getting old enough to replace.

Otherwise, I’m frustrated by not thinking of it sooner. Stupid gages. At least I can double check the gage before reinstalling everything and only relying on hope.

I decide to get a new sending unit after removing the old one. It looks old and used up, not to mention the cracked return tube. Get the parts on order and do my best to vent the garage of gas fumes. But I’m still fuming.

While waiting for the parts fairy to show up, I test the gages. The stock gage does not have the right resistance, but then neither does the aftermarket gage. Great. I can make due until I find a gage with the right resistance. A quick internet search finds the same style as the one installed in my dash but with the correct resistance… and it is a completely different part number. Nice going PO.

When the sending unit arrives, I hook everything up and tighten the gas tank into place. Per my dad’s great suggestion, I refrain from installing the gas tank skid plate until I know it works.

While I was hooking everything up, I decided to change the oil. It was too late to fire this beast up without changing my neighborly status from “redneck” to “annoying redneck”. The oil looked clean enough from when I bought it, and I assumed the PO changed if before selling it, but I wanted to start fresh with a known oil.

Ever have one of those oil changes that just doesn’t go right at all? Yep, it was one of those. I pulled the plug and got the pan drained without a spilled drop. At this point, I should have emptied my nearly full drain pan, but naw, the filter only drips a little.  Right? 

I put some cardboard down and scooted the pan into place. Reach up and grab the filter… It ain’t budging. Arg. This is definitely one of my pet peeves. Just oil the new gasket a little and don’t over tighten the filter. How hard is that? But I am prepared and have the filter cap wrenches. As I reach up, the ratchet falls off the cap wrench and performs a decent dive into the full oil pan. Only a little oil goes everywhere.

Laugh it off and try again, but the motor mount is in the way. While trying to get at the filter, two fun things happened. I managed to slosh a quart of oil over the edges of the pan moving it around. Chalk it up to be tired. Thank goodness for the cardboard. The second is not oil related. Trying to find a better angle to loosen the filter, I tried reaching in from the top.

At this point, I’ll revisit the wiring situation for you. The PO had installed a 12 circuit fuse block and wire harness. Some wires must have been too short because near the terminal there would be 3 splices and 4 wires, sometimes multiple colors. Fun stuff. The wires were not the worst I have ever seen, but it merits an honorable mention spot. I had already removed the coil and electronic control module it in lieu of a single wire HEI setup, which removed a lot of wire mess.

So back to the point that I am reaching for the oil filter from behind the alternator from the top. Suddenly, it’s the Fourth of July. I don’t remember pulling my hand back, but I was all good. No burnt hair or anything.

At this point, no strands of wire were left connected, only a thin charred string of insulation and a nice welding ghost on the header. Hey, that explains why the battery wasn’t charging!

Quickly disconnect the battery and investigate. It seems the power wire from the alternator to the positive battery side of the starter solenoid was twice as long as it needed to be and had rested up against the exhaust header. Needless to say, the wire insulation was no match for the heat of the header.

I take off dead wire and get back to the oil filter. Wiring can wait.

For removing the oil filter I have another alternative, the gripper style wrench. I hate using it as it crushes the filter can and I was planning on cutting the filter open. Luckily, it takes the filter off without crushing the filter too much.

As I take the filter off, the motor mount gives it a high five in passing, causing it to slip out of my oily fingers and swan dive into the full oil pan. A belly flop is a good description. There is now oil 3 feet in every direction, except where my face stopped the splatter.

At this point, I can only laugh. With my mouth closed.

After cleaning up the Exxon Valdez II, I finish up installing the new filter and filling the crankcase.

I scrounge around and make a new, much shorter alternator wire. While installing it, I also clean up the existing wiring with electrical tape, conduit, and copious amounts of zip ties. All in all, I am happy with all the progress I’ve made, ignoring the effort expended to get there, and can’t wait to see if she runs in the morning.

I wake up all hopeful and do a check double check on everything I touched. It was a late night. With everything looking good, I try to start her up. Crank. Crank crank. Crank crank crank. Nothing.

I pull the fuel hose at the pump and it is dry, but it was also a little loose. Huh. I check all the other hose clamps, and they are all a little loose. Just loose enough to suck air.

I purposely hadn’t over tighten them, as the PO had and caused one of them leaked where the hose clamp cut through. I expected the new hose to set a bit, but didn’t expect them to be that loose. Lesson learned about new rubber taking a set.

It was all easy to tighten… Except the two on top of the tank. Had to drop the left side of the tank… Again. But after it is all retightened and bolted back together, we try again.

Crank. Crank crank. Crank crank… Vroom! Haha hahaha! What a lovely sound. Not my maniacal laughter, but the motor. I back the Deuce out of the garage and let her idle. Check under the hood and back by the gas tank and no drops, drips or sprays anywhere.

Before the wife heads off to work, I throw an empty gas can in the back and drive to the gas station. It actually makes it down and back, running well. I am stoked. But will it keep running?

Later that afternoon, I decide to risk a little trip and head up into the hills for a hike. It would be nice to purposely take a hike instead of being forced into it by a broken CJ.

It was a wonderful hot summer afternoon for a drive up to cooler temperatures with a beautiful sunset coloring the rocky cliffs out here. Just the perfect evening. That’s not saying that The Deuce was perfect, but she got me home.

Issue 1: it ran a bit hot after a while, enough to boil out some coolant out the overflow bottle, although I had overfilled the system and it was 102F out. Issue 2: As I pulled into my neighborhood, and heard a distinct metal “tink!” from the suspension that I will have to investigate. Issue 3: it pops and bangs on downhill deceleration. Running too rich? Issue 4 which occurred after I got home and cut open the oil filter: glitter.

Well, that was fun. Seems that I’m not quite done yet. Not that I expected to be.

So, the Deuce runs now, but with a few concerns. I decide to take her on another shakedown run… to work. It is only 15 or so miles. What’s the worst that can happen?

You know how well that worked out last time. Yes, I am using one of the most human abilities: denial. I’m just going to ignore all the things that I know are wrong and see if I can discover new ones.

I do make sure that the new fire extinguisher in under the driver seat. And I take extra gas and a jug of water. Just in case. My standard bug out bag in loaded and I wear some good hiking shoes. As the Boy Scouts taught me well; be prepared. At least this time.

The thing about when you first start driving a piece of shit vehicle is that you pay extra attention to everything; every noise, every vibration, every smell. Well, the Deuce has a whole lot going on at once. Soon, we will engage denial and ignore it all, happily cruising around until something breaks. But for the time being, it can be nerve racking.

Is that new? How are the gages? Is that a happy engine noise? What is that vibration when I lift and turn left? How are the gages? Is that the road or is something important about to fall off? Gages? Can I even trust the gages?

All in all, it was a successful trip. I made it to work with the temp below 200F the entire way. The oil pressure started on the high side, but eventually dropped to my expected range. If I am going to continue driving it on payment, I need to inflate the tires a little for those 65mph S-curves on the way to work. But I’ll take the win! 

Just to give me a heart attack, a customer came into the shop and mentioned that our dumpster out back was smoking. Now, I know they said dumpster, but my brain immediately went to CJ ablaze! It isn’t that big of a stretch.

I went out back and indeed our recycle dumpster on fire. The Deuce lurked in the background like the other gawking tourists as we watched the fire department quickly douse the dumpster. The flames were luckily 20 feet away from my plastic gas can.

On the way home, when an air temperature of 99F, she got up to about 207F while driving 65mph in traffic. I slowed to 55mph and the temp dropped. Eh, driving it at 65 was a bit taxing anyway.

Back at home, I noticed that the radiator cap was from a bygone era and that the radiator wasn’t mounted well. There were air gaps on all sides of the radiator, the mounting was the bare minimum at 2 bolts, and there was no radiator shroud. I put some foam all around the radiator to make the air go through the radiator. I removed the winch off the front as I wasn’t planning on using it soon… not to mention that the fairlead was mounted to the other front bumper. I planned to leave the current towing bumper installed for quite some time.

When picking up a new radiator cap, I learned that my old 7psi cap wasn’t stock. I would feel much more confident with the new stock pressure 16psi cap installed.

Continuing to ignore several issues yet gaining confidence in the reliability, I decide to drive the Deuce around more often. I actually take it up to the cabin, the original intent of the vehicle. It does good enough, at least in respect to the cooling. It was over 100 degrees F at home and as I drove up the steep inclines, the temp topped out at 205F and then dropped when we got to the level areas. The suspension was rocketing up my list to fix. With blown shocks and ungreased shackles, it was a stiff, bouncy ride and my spleen was demanding something more compliant. I drove about half the speed I usually go with my modern JKU. Or less.

A few other little things were noticed. After a while, I could tell there was exhaust gasses getting to the driver’s seat. The rear diff needed a pinion seal as it slowly leaked. The steering could use a bit of inspection.

But she made it there and back. And actually made it to work and back the next day. And a couple days later.

Well, life happens. With the Deuce running, and somewhat reliably, I continued to drive it around. I did little things, such as ordering a fuel gage that actually is made to work with my sending unit. It only got lost in the mail for a week.

The exhaust leak on the right front header to block is getting to the point I can’t ignore it. But I do. I mean, I can see where is gasket is blown out. That will be an easy fix, right?

With the rear axle leaking from the pinion seal, I head down to my friendly autoparts store, pick one up and wait until I have a few minutes before work some morning. After prying the old seal out, I clean it all up and notice that the seal doesn’t look exactly the same. Compared to the old one, it appears to be a smaller diameter. The test fit confirms this as it falls into the hole and rattles around. Great.

I head back down the next free day and ask for another pinion seal, but “not the first one”. The guy pauses, looks down further and finds it. Seems that the part I need isn’t listed under a Dana 44, but the 44-M or 44-HD. The seal should fit either one, their system says. I’m not confident in their system. I think the wrong seal might actually fit Homer instead, so I keep it.

Get back home and go for the quick install. The seal doesn’t quite want to go back in. There are two spots it hangs on. Sure enough, there are tiny burrs that I dress with a file. Seems to do the trick. It didn’t go in smooth, but it went in and didn’t leak afterwards. I’ll call it a win.

Back to ignoring several issues, I continue to drive it around. I’ve run up almost 500 miles and it is (still) functional. More than that, it is a hoot to drive. I’ve started to just accept most of the current issues. It bangs, it rattles, it jumps over bumps but it is just plain fun.

We took the bikini top off and enjoyed a night ride with the Milky Way over our shoulders. Sure, the windshield rattles a lot more and I notice that the windshield clamps are crap; of the 6 bolts holding the 2 top pieces to the windshield frame, 3 are present and the rest are broken off and painted over. It takes less than 2 minutes to reinstall the bikini top, so that makes night driving fun. Just need a good way to store it while driving.

Coming home from out post-midnight Milky Way ride, I finally decide that the exhaust leak is getting too loud to ignore…at least for my neighbors. So I order some exhaust manifold gaskets and head to the garage to pull the headers off. All of the bolts are loose. Two are not even finger tight. Now, I can understand that near there would be loose bolts where the gasket was blow out, but not one single bolt needs two hands on the ratchet.

Needless to say, it is easy to undo. The bolts practically fall off. While undoing the header collector to the muffler flange, I inspect the rest of the short exhaust system. I notice, not for the first time, that the rear of the Muffler is attached to a solid metal L-bracket. At least it is a single bolt up into the body to give it some degree of movement when the engine rocks on the motor mounts. Just not enough for my liking. Put that on a list of things to change.

As I pull back the headers, there is one cylinder on each side that shows white in the exhaust port. Great. The exhaust manifold gaskets show that there were leaks at just about every cylinder, not surprisingly given the lack of bolt torque. While trying to figure out how to approach the problem, it hits me. Just pull the damned motor. I have a hoist and a stand and I should probably inspect both the top and bottom ends. So why not? It’s not like it is complicated. My brain mocks me by thinking “Sure, an easy exhaust manifold gasket swap, huh?”

So, do I pull the motor? Naw, back to denial time. Throw the exhaust header back on and ignore the rest. For now.