One investment I will not be able to recover except in time saving process enhancement is the purchase of many new tools. In fact, there's a subliminal subtext running through my mind that says, "Hey, these new toys are one of the main reasons that you started this project in the first place." I've now got a neat automatic electric stud welder. I showed you how to weld studs into a dent to pull it out some time ago, but that process involved oxy-acetylene welding. It was time-consuming and a little crude, but effective. Now, I've got the moral equivalent of a nail-gun to stitch those studs into a dent. And there are plenty of dents to stitch studs into, believe me. I'll save some time, and be reassured in the fact that I'm running an actual semi-pro system. Next on the list was a self-darkening welding helmet. I don't know why I didn't have one of these from the get-go, but now that I've used mine, I realize that some of the technology developed in the last few years is good stuff. The ease in controlling a weld when you can actually see what you're doing is unbelievable. And the welds look much more like something that will stay together. Since I don't grind welds any more, this is important. This mechanical vision enhancement dovetails nicely with my failing physical abilities to ensure that I'm at least staying even with the board. Last, but not least, I've upgraded my welder to a Millermatic 175. Now I have a 115v Marquette rig for work at the track, at midnight, in the freezing rain, while laying on your back, (let's not go there) and the Miller 230v MIG for heavier stuff in the garage. At least I've made great strides in the toy department.
And, since we're detailing non-recoverable investments, I'll add that I'm about to approach a point-of-no-return, investment-wise: the rollcage. In our last episode, before I was so rudely interrupted (by me) I had designed a dandy rollcage. Whether such a thing could be constructed within our budget remained to be determined. My middle son said, "I've got access to a tubing bender, why don't we just do it ourselves?" And, from a cost standpoint, you can't argue with sweat equity. But given my amazing procrastinative abilities thus far, such a task would put our prospective finish date out well into the next millennium. Conversations with a good friend who has built his own cage were not encouraging, either. "I wouldn't build another one of these damned things for five...thousand...dollars," he swore, palm upraised. No help there. And as I looked at photos of his cage, I could see his point. I've been in a race fabrication shop, and experienced the work that goes into one of the little devils: The cutting and bending and trial fitting and adjusting and trial fitting again and, finally, contorting yourself into an impossible position to get the tube welded into place are not to be considered lightly. These things are rewarding, yes, but are neither fun things, nor an old man's job. So, yes, I decided to hire this done.
Thus, I proceeded to my list of prospective cage constructors, the first of which was a local racing outfit, well known for its sturdy, meticulously fabricated structures. "Well, for a basic cage, we charge about $1,700, plus materials...they usually run about $700," said the man-in-charge. Now we were getting somewhere. But when I looked back at my lovely Photoshop efforts on the Greyhound cage, I realized that what I'd drawn there is not your "basic cage." The budget part of my brain ran for the cellar as I mentally calculated the time and materials involved in the transition from "budget" to "bulletproof." The cost would double, perhaps. Well, at least it was another data point, if a scary one.
My last foray into the cage contracting ranks will be a shop I know well from its interior round-tube artwork. The 901 Shop in Pompano Beach, Fla., has a firmly established reputation as fabricators of exquisite racing machinery, some of it seen in these pages. Brady Refenning, who runs the shop, in league with father Jack, who now sits back and grins as Brady realizes what he's got himself into, are both racers to the core. I'll send my design to these stalwarts and let them have a good laugh before they give me the bum's rush.
Bottom line, we're still "stuck in." No more D-Jag replicars for me. I have enough nightmares as it is.
Review
Project Junkyard Greyhound-aka BMW 3.0 CS
February 2002
Part 1: Rust-bucket refugee to race-ready road rocket...on a budget
April 2002
Part 2: Stripping the CS down to the bone
June 2002
Part 3: "Zen and the Art of Not Bawling Like a Baby"--or, I take two steps forward and how many back? (aka bodywork)
September 2002
Part 4: Welding: hot, nasty and oh, so necessary
November 2002
Part 5: Keeping it simple-a "new" motor for the CS
March 2003
Part 6: Chasin' Squirrels-a momentary distraction by an 2002, plus suspension bits & brakes, too
June 2003
Part 7: Measure twice, cut once-the Greyhound gets fitted with a cage