Overland Tech: Watch those dropped nuts!

Very early in my automotive repair days, my friend Jack Hinwood helped me rebuild the engine on my 1971 Toyota Corolla. The Corolla had a lively 1600cc hemi-head four-cylinder engine, which we modified with high-compression pistons, a ported head, a modified cam, a header, and the piece de resistance, Weber carburetors. The result, combined with Michelin XAS tires, shortened springs, and Koni shocks, was a fierce little sleeper—a nondescript economy car that embarrassed 240Zs and 2002 tiis in a straight line, and was the undefeated king of several midnight races up Mount Lemmon outside Tucson. 

I learned a lot from Jack during the rebuild, but one thing in particular stuck with me. At one point he was installing some part or another, and dropped a nut. Instantly he froze what he was doing, and his eyes locked on that nut as it bounced off the floor and under a rolling tool cart, whence it was retrieved with little delay in the proceedings. I noticed then that whenever he dropped some bit, he stopped everything, including talking, and watched and listened where it went. The habit saved who knows how much time chasing down parts or even losing them completely. 

It’s a good habit to make instinctive—especially if you’re involved in a repair in the field far from a source of replacements, and probably working over dirt. In such a situation, a dropped nut or other small part could result in a lot of wasted time—or a real problem if it simply can’t be found.

To buy or not to buy: 1991 Toyota Land Cruiser

I currently drive two different vehicles—a fuel sipping Ford Focus, mostly to cover the short distance to work, and a fuel-guzzling Ford F-250 diesel, mostly for fishing and hunting . My wife has been encouraging me to downsize my fleet and recently observed that one of her friends has a ’91 Land Cruiser for sale. “What about something like that?” was her question to me; it could get me out to some remote fishing spots as well as fit a couple car seats for transporting kids (which my old truck doesn’t do so well). 

And so, I’ve been doing a little bit of looking into Land Cruisers. I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.

-  This vehicle originally came from the States and has a fair number of miles on it (250,000). How many is too many? I’m currently driving a truck with 225,000 miles.  So, it wouldn’t be a whole lot more than what I’m already driving, but certainly wouldn’t be a step toward a lesser-used vehicle, which would be nice for peace of mind.

-  What sort of a ball-park price do you think is reasonable for a vehicle of that vintage? Obviously you won’t know the exact condition, but it seems to be in reasonable shape for its age.  There is a bit of surface rust starting to show up on the back door, below the window, and just above the windshield. I don’t think that it has been abused, but it hasn’t been babied either.

-  Would I be better off spending a bit more for a lower mileage vehicle? I need to keep my total purchase price below $10,000. This one is well below that. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of these available in Alberta, from what I’ve been able to find. I’d potentially consider importing something from the States if that made sense.

-  Are other options worth looking at instead?  I’ve thought about Jeeps (Wrangler and Cherokee) or picking up a 4Runner, both of which are probably better on fuel and a whole lot more common.  I’d love to have a Tacoma, but won’t be able to find a 4-door in my price range.

Thanks for your feedback,

Robert Anderson via email, Blairmore, Alberta, Canada

Overland skills: Fire without matches

I’ve always been fascinated by bushcrafting - those guys who can build a shelter, gather and trap food, and make a fire with nothing but a knife. The firemaking part always seemed the most magical, so finally I decided to try it, using the bow drill method. 

The material of choice here in southern Arizona is sotol, a plant in the agave family that grows at elevations over 3,800 feet or so. Specifically you want the dried flower stalk, which forms a tough, fibrous pole. I hiked up the hill to the south of us and brought back a few, then prepared, first, a hearth by splitting a length to get a flat piece, then a spindle by smoothing out a narrower piece near the tip. 

The next step is the key. You start a depression for the spindle in the hearth with the tip of your knife, then twist the spindle into it to smooth it. Then you must cut a notch in the side that just intersects the depression, and which widens at the bottom. The ember which is the aim of the procedure gathers in this notch, and you then transfer the ember to your tinder bundle. 

I cheated by using a synthetic rope for the bow, rather than stripping agave leaves with my teeth to braid one (next time). The bow was a length of mesquite. 

It took four tries to get a good ember in the notch, but it died when I transfered it to my dried grass tinder bundle and blew on it. Finally, on the eighth try, the tinder bundle burst into flame. It was so cool I whooped out loud. 

Next I want to try the hand drill method, which obviates the need for the bow and string. Report to follow. New class at the Overland Expo?

Equipment review: Viking Off Road Recovery Bag $130

I wrote a brief review of Thor Jonsson’s stout U.S.-made Recovery Bag when I was with Overland Journal, but since then I’ve had more experience with it in the field. Nothing I’ve seen has altered my initial impressions of its quality and utility. 

If your vehicle is equipped with a winch designed for anything but pure poseurship, you need a comprehensive recovery kit to accompany it. A winch doesn’t work in isolation: If you’re winching from a tree you must use a tree saver strap to prevent damage to the trunk that could kill the tree; if you’re attaching to another vehicle you need proper shackles. In many situations you’ll want a pulley block to redirect a pull or increase power. Gloves, a winchline extension, a KERR (kinetic energy recovery rope) or strap, a winchline damper—all should be part of a winch kit.

Furthermore, if you’re winching it’s likely to be at least a somewhat stressful (and certainly potentially dangerous) situation, so you’ll want everything organized to eliminate fumbling and delays. Therefore I consider the recovery kit’s container to be just as important as the contents.

The first thing you’ll notice about the Viking bag is the can’t-miss-me-orange 3M reflective tape, which will prevent you misplacing the bag at night, and will warn anyone driving up on the scene to slow down. Open the bag and you’ll see the sturdy double-layer construction, using an orange liner which keeps the contents easy to see. Actually there’s a third layer: The central rope/chain compartment comes out for easy cleaning after a recovery that renders stuff muddy. The other compartments tidily hold shackles, pulley blocks, gloves, a KERR, a winchline damper (which can be Velcroed to the exterior via straps)—virtually everything associated with a comprehensive recovery kit. The lot is comfortable carried via a fat rubberized handle or a broad shoulder strap.

If you stuff this bag with the full assortment including a choker chain, it will represent a potential 30-pound projectile in the event of an accident or rollover, so it should be secured any time the vehicle is moving. I run a single ratchet strap over mine, but Viking has also thoughtfully included four tie-down rings on the base.

Virtually everything I could have thought of to include in a recovery kit bag is here, thanks to Thor’s extensive experience. It’s a U.S.-made product I highly recommend. Incidentally—I had my own recovery gear to fill this bag, but Viking offers a selection of well-considered kits to suit any overland vehicle from a Subaru to a Unimog.

Winchline.com

- Jonathan Hanson, Overland Tech & Travel editor

Equipment review: U.S. military surplus two-quart canteen—up to military standards?

Over the years I’ve used every water container imaginable for hiking, backpacking, and sea kayaking, from WWII-era metal canteens to Nalgenes (I tried the CamelBak-style bladders exactly once, and simply couldn’t abide the sucky-tube thing). A couple of years ago I found what I thought could be the ideal container for my needs: A U.S. military two-quart soft canteen with a nylon cover insulated with synthetic fleece.

This combination had several advantages. First, in the desert southwest you need two quarts of water for any reasonable hike. One just isn’t sufficient. Second, the fleece insulation did a good job of keeping the contents cool on warm days. Finally, the flexible container let me squeeze out air as I emptied the canteen, which prevented sloshing and significantly reduced noise when birdwatching or hunting. I noted at the time that the canteen’s plastic material seemed quite thin, but I assumed the designers knew what they were doing.

Maybe not.

First, a few months ago the plastic leash holding the cap snapped in two. Annoying, but I didn’t think too much about it. More recently, while teaching wildlife tracking on a ranch in northern Mexico, the group was out on a hike and I felt my backside getting soaked. I took off my day pack and pulled out the canteen, and found a split in the upper corner of the container. Not good at all. Fortunately my camera was in a separate pocket of the pack, or the results could have been disastrous. Not to mention if I’d been relying on that water to stay alive somewhere, and the split had decided to happen at the bottom corner . . .

The date stamp on the canteen is 1993—not that old when you consider the millions of WWII metal canteens still providing fine service seven decades on. Could this one have received some UV exposure that weakened it, is it a rare manufacturing error, or is it truly a design flaw? All I know is, my confidence is shaken, despite the fact that one failure is the scarcest kind of anecdotal evidence. I have another of these units, dated 1997, that I could continue to use, but my inclination, given the vital importance of water in the desert, is that one strike means this kind of container is out for me.

- Jonathan Hanson, Overland Tech & Travel editor

How to balance overland / street performance on a Jeep JK?

What are your thoughts on a two-inch suspension lift with 33-inch tires (not 35s) on a Jeep JK to achieve balanced overland and street performance?

— @overlandchron (via Twitter)

What are the best options for safely mounting a Hi-Lift Jack in a Wrangler?

A lot of people I see driving Wranglers around Denver have a Hi-Lift bolted on somewhere, bumper, back door hinges, etc.

 

What's the best option for a properly and safely secured Hi-Lift? I don't want to be drilling holes. And by properly secured, I assume not just thrown in the back of the Jeep, either.

 

I think the best I've seen so far is this http://www.quadratec.com/products/92200_9001.htm mounting on the back of the roll cage, where the jack is actually inside and so won't get dirty/rusty, driven into or fall off.

- David Mallinson, Denver, CO, USA (via email)

What is essential equipment for a basic trip?

What is the essential equipment for an overland 4x4 truck for a basic trip?

- Gregorio Rodriguez, Venezuela (@jgregrodriguez via Twitter)