Good evening bitogers and welcome, welcome to the ongoing saga of "as the Luv Machine rolls."
You might recall not long ago I posted on how difficult it was to check the oil on said Machine de Luv. A long wire with file markings is my only method of checking the level of lube. And I got to wondering, exactly how much oil is in the ole 4.3 Vortec? So yesterday, for the first time since December 13th, 2009, (I wrote the date on the oil filter), I pulled the drain plug on the oil pan.
Once I had hacked my way through the cobwebs covering the pan and removed the plug with a pipe wrench, the oil oozed forth in a way I can only describe as slow, (it was so slow, I am at a loss for words to describe how slow it was). In truth, it kind of reminded me of my roofing days of years gone by when hot mopped roofs were all the rage in these parts. Which is fitting since tar describes not only the consistency but also the color of said lubricant that glooped forth in it's patient old man walking to the counter to fetch his teeth way.
While oil slowly drained into my nice, clean, yellow oil change pan, I decided to whittle some wood to pass the time. When I had completed my perfect copy of a Viking ship, (complete with shields), the last bit of oil was finally coming through the plug. Replacing the plug with my pipe wrench and a 22 oz hammer, I carefully pulled my now dirty yellow oil change pan from beneath my piston pumping buddy and proceeded to measure the amount. I started pouring it into a measured jug, but since my knife was dull and would not cut the oil stream into even clumps, I resorted to shoveling it into a container with a trenching tool I happened to have handy. Unfortunately, the handle broke and the shovel head disappeared. That's when I remembered the huge electro magnet I had built in High School which I had kept for just such an occasion.
Placing the pan beneath this powerful device, I hit the switch and "powered up," only to notice all the metal shavings in the oil rising to the top to flash and glitter like the light on a windy sea.
I noticed my trusty, dusty chainsaw sitting with eagerness on the bench with a freshly sharpened chain. Grabbing it with one hand and pulling on the cord with the other, it roared to life and with careful attention to detail, I skillfully cut out six and a half quarts of solid black oil.
"Yikes and away!" thought I to myself, "that's a quart and a half too much!" So I carefully laid aside the quart and a half chunk for future use and with a 3 pound sledge hammer, forced the five remaining quarts back into the innards of my motorized friend.
I'm debating now on what to do with the quart and a half. I had thought on sending it to "Blackstone" for a test and report, but feel the name is too fitting a description for what came out and what went back in.
All finished and done, I fired up the motor and together, we happily went over hill and dale.
You might recall not long ago I posted on how difficult it was to check the oil on said Machine de Luv. A long wire with file markings is my only method of checking the level of lube. And I got to wondering, exactly how much oil is in the ole 4.3 Vortec? So yesterday, for the first time since December 13th, 2009, (I wrote the date on the oil filter), I pulled the drain plug on the oil pan.
Once I had hacked my way through the cobwebs covering the pan and removed the plug with a pipe wrench, the oil oozed forth in a way I can only describe as slow, (it was so slow, I am at a loss for words to describe how slow it was). In truth, it kind of reminded me of my roofing days of years gone by when hot mopped roofs were all the rage in these parts. Which is fitting since tar describes not only the consistency but also the color of said lubricant that glooped forth in it's patient old man walking to the counter to fetch his teeth way.
While oil slowly drained into my nice, clean, yellow oil change pan, I decided to whittle some wood to pass the time. When I had completed my perfect copy of a Viking ship, (complete with shields), the last bit of oil was finally coming through the plug. Replacing the plug with my pipe wrench and a 22 oz hammer, I carefully pulled my now dirty yellow oil change pan from beneath my piston pumping buddy and proceeded to measure the amount. I started pouring it into a measured jug, but since my knife was dull and would not cut the oil stream into even clumps, I resorted to shoveling it into a container with a trenching tool I happened to have handy. Unfortunately, the handle broke and the shovel head disappeared. That's when I remembered the huge electro magnet I had built in High School which I had kept for just such an occasion.
Placing the pan beneath this powerful device, I hit the switch and "powered up," only to notice all the metal shavings in the oil rising to the top to flash and glitter like the light on a windy sea.
I noticed my trusty, dusty chainsaw sitting with eagerness on the bench with a freshly sharpened chain. Grabbing it with one hand and pulling on the cord with the other, it roared to life and with careful attention to detail, I skillfully cut out six and a half quarts of solid black oil.
"Yikes and away!" thought I to myself, "that's a quart and a half too much!" So I carefully laid aside the quart and a half chunk for future use and with a 3 pound sledge hammer, forced the five remaining quarts back into the innards of my motorized friend.
I'm debating now on what to do with the quart and a half. I had thought on sending it to "Blackstone" for a test and report, but feel the name is too fitting a description for what came out and what went back in.
All finished and done, I fired up the motor and together, we happily went over hill and dale.
