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Building a zero-hour F engine
If you’re only going to rebuild an engine every 20 years or so, you might as well do a thorough job. That’s been the guiding principle for both me and my master Toyota mechanic and friend Bill Lee, as he disassembled and inspected the six-cylinder F engine and transmission of my FJ40 (see this post for background). Actually it wouldn’t have mattered whether or not it was my guiding principle—Bill would have refused to do it any other way.
The engine had been showing distinct signs of power loss, although oil consumption was not unusual. Teardown revealed one certain cause: the camshaft was badly worn, and on a couple cylinders was clearly not producing much lift on the intake valves. Bill’s explanation for this was illuminating. Apparently on start-up of an F engine, the cam is the last part to receive oil from the pump. Generally this is no problem as residual oil provides plenty of lubrication—unless the vehicle is parked for long periods, in which case the oil will drain away from the cam lobes. The cam will then be without oil for the first 10 or 15 seconds after starting. And—surprise—for several years my FJ40 has seen long periods of idleness while we were traveling overseas, using the Tacoma and Four Wheel Camper for journeys in North America, and putting miles on various long-term review vehicles. Shame on me. (Bill suggested changing to an oil from Joe Gibbs Racing that displays cling properties superior to standard oils. And driving it more.)
Once Bill had the engine disassembled entirely, he called and we had a chat. The cylinders were in excellent condition, still within specs, even still showing factory cross-hatch honing marks. The pistons came right out, Bill reported—no wear ridge at all.
However. The bores showed vertical scoring, and Bill and I were pretty sure where this originated, as I’d discovered a surgical-strike rodent intrusion in the air cleaner last year, the cleaner itself chewed through and remnants of comfortable rodent accommodations in the housing. I cleaned everything out, but it’s likely some debris had been sucked into the engine in the meantime. (Mystery: After the incident I put hardware cloth over the opening, but Bill found the air cleaner chewed again. Either one got in during the day or two before I installed the screen—likely—or I had the Harry Houdini of mice.)
The consensus from the machine shop was that the scoring could not be completely honed out while keeping the bore stock, so we decided to bore the cylinders and install new pistons, Japanese-made units from ITM (Toyota pistons are no longer available for the F engine).
The main bearings were in good shape, but given the need for machine-shop work anyway we decided to turn the crank and install one size over bearings. Bill also suggested balancing the components—not a huge deal given the inherent primary balance and even firing order of an inline six-cylinder engine, but every bit helps. The machine shop matched the weight of all the connecting rods to the lightest one by judiciously grinding away material on the caps. (Hey! Less weight means more horsepower!)
Meanwhile, the head has been given a valve job, and equipped with new OEM valve guides and springs—which Bill had to source piece by piece from several dealers around the country. Factory parts such as these are becoming more and more rare. The replacement cam is an aftermarket item; however, it’s a brand Bill has used before with good results. The lifters as well are aftermarket Japanese manufacture. (The last few new OEM F cam/lifter sets sold for near $1,000; this set totalled about $400.)
What else? Bill wisely recommended replacing the oil pump, even though it was working fine. Toyota no longer makes the F oil pump, but the (improved) model from the 2F is still available—however, installing it requires a 2F oil pan as well, so that is in hand. New OEM timing gears will ensure precise cam timing.
Once everything is put back together (with a one-of-few-remaining factory gasket kit), we’ll have an essentially zero-hour engine. It should in fact be better nick than when I bought the vehicle from its original owner in 1978, with 24,000 miles on it.
The header was in good shape, and so ceramic-coated for re-installation.
Next up for attention will be the H41 transmission and transfer case.
Cummins-powered FJ40
As a general rule I’m not a big fan of non-factory-original engine swaps. I’ve seen the results of way too many back-yard hackers bolting Chevy 350s into FJ40s, and Ford 302s into Land Rover 109s. (Not to mention American V8s implanted in Jaguar sedans and even vilely stuffed up the rear of Porsche 911s.)
Even when it’s done well, the result in an FJ40 seems less a Chevy-powered Land Cruiser than a Toyota-bodied Blazer, at least in my book—especially when the engine is coupled to a Turbo Hydramatic auto transmission. Yeah, more power and better fuel economy, supposedly, but the fuel economy often turns out to be chimerical from what I’ve heard first-hand, and unless you want to tow a boat or something, 250 or 300 horsepower in a 90-inch wheelbase seems like overkill. The torque curve winds up in the wrong place. And the lopey firing order just sounds wrong compared to the smooth burble of an inline six.
With diesel swaps my other-maker prejudice diminishes somewhat, since we’re now looking at potentially significant fuel savings, and a torque curve working in the same region (2,000 rpm) as the gasoline F or 2F. True, I’d still prefer a factory Toyota engine—a 1HZ or 13BT would be a tempting replacement in my 40. However, I’ve seen other options done well.
All this is leading up to the photo you see above. It’s a 1977 FJ40 belonging to Steve Sency of Durango, Colorado, who accomplished one of the most strikingly clean engine swaps I’ve ever seen. Steve sourced a Cummins 3.3BT four-cylinder diesel that had been powering a generator at a cell tower site, and coupled it with an Orion 4:1 transfer case and an NV4500 five-speed (manual) transmission. Notice the braided stainless hoses where a vacuum booster for the brakes would normally be. Since diesel engines do not produce the vacuum inherent in a gasoline engine (because the air intake tract is always wide open), Steve installed a Vickers hydraulic pump on the accessory port of the Cummins. The hydraulic boost system now services the brakes and the power steering.
Steve reports up to 23 mpg at 60 mph (@2,000 rpm), which, given the roof tent, dual 12-gallon water tanks, and auxiliary fuel tank on the vehicle (not to mention the drag coefficient of the FJ40, roughly equivalent to that of a three-bedroom house), is pretty impressive.
Steve's wife, Linda, enjoying a perfect campsite.
Update: After several requests from readers, Steve sent a few more photos of the engine.
The sky didn't fall after all . . .
A scant and diminishing few of you reading this might recall the dark days of the early and mid 1970s—dark at least for automotive enthusiasts, who were convinced that the seven-decade-long history of increasingly interesting—and fast—automobiles was over forever, thanks to OPEC embargoes and the rising influence of commie environmentalists who thought all Americans should have access to clean air and water. Executives from the Big Three stood before Congress and swore they would go bankrupt if forced to install catalytic converters on their vehicles. In 1975 a base Chevrolet Corvette’s 350 cubic-inch V8 produced a wheezing 165 horsepower, and the venerable MGB was choked down to 68—exactly the same as a 750cc Honda motorcycle of the day.
Not all manufacturers simply wrung their hands and complained. Honda produced its CVCC (Compound Vortex Controlled Combustion) four cylinder engine for the Civic, which handily met all proposed pollution requirements without a catalytic converter. When the CEO of GM sneeringly dismissed the technology as suitable for “a toy motorcycle engine,” Soichiro Honda bought a Chevy Impala and had it flown to Japan, where his engineers designed, built, and installed CVCC cylinder heads on its V8, then flew it back to Michigan—where it passed EPA requirements without a catalytic converter. GM’s CEO immediately apologized and asked to license the technology. Actually he did neither.
In any case, aside from a few bright spots (Porsche managed to retain much of the 911’s performance by adding engine capacity and keeping weight down, not to mention introducing the Turbo version), the future looked bleak.
For truck buyers the situation was similar. Although emphasis on 0 to 60 times was minimal, fuel economy was an issue, with single-digit averages commonplace (actually single-digit averages had been comonplace all along, but with gas prices skyrocketing from 30 cents per gallon to 80, it started to hurt).
I was reminded of all this when I came upon an image of a road test of a Chevrolet C-10 pickup from a 1974 edition of Pickup, Van, and 4WD magazine. The truck’s 350-cubic-inch V8 produced just 145 horsepower and a surprisingly meager 250 lb-ft of torque (torque was generally less affected by pollution controls than horsepower, but apparently not in this engine). The truck took 12.6 seconds to accelerate from 0 to 60 mph with a three-speed automatic transmission, and averaged a wince-inducing 9.8 mpg in “normal driving.” Also, astonishingly, the weight capacity on the tested model was only 760 pounds including passengers (although options could boost that to 1,360). And this was a two-wheel-drive truck.
How far we have come, and how silly seem the predictions that reducing pollution spelled the death of performance. Consider the 2016 Chevrolet Silverado Crew Cab tested by Car and Driver. Its 5.3-liter (325 cubic-inch) V8 produces 355 horsepower—well above the one horsepower per cubic inch figure that was the Holy Grail in (completely unregulated) 60s muscle cars—and 383 lb-ft of torque. With an eight-speed auto it propels the truck to 60 in just 7.2 seconds (quicker than that 1975 Corvette), yet the testers saw 15 mpg in normal driving. (Other half-ton trucks are now achieving significantly higher fuel economy figures; I cited this review because its subject was the closest I could find quickly to a direct descendant of that C-10.) This on a four-wheel-drive truck capable of hauling 2,130 pounds and towing over 10,000. Need I add that it produces a fraction of the pollutants that ’74 truck did? And is vastly more comfortable and safe?
The Ford Ranger returns
If you’ve been reading this page for a while you’ll be aware that I’m a big fan of the current world-market Ford Ranger pickup (or ute, or backie, as it’s called in its major markets). In 2012 I compared it favorably with the then-current-generation Toyota Hilux here. (Note that my pipe dream of a U.S.-market Hilux failed to materialize.) Briefly, the Ranger combines a fully boxed chassis with sophisticated running gear, attractive styling, and, when equipped with the superb 3.2-liter turbodiesel, an astounding 31-inch fording depth.
Now Ford has announced that the Ranger will return to the U.S. market, built here probably starting as a 2018 model. In the short video on the Ford Truck Enthusiasts Forum, here, the spokesman notes that the U.S. Ranger will have “. . . unique front style, engines, and features.”
Hmm . . .
That statement could mean many things. Our Ranger might be identical to the world version except for a different front end, the addition of a U.S.-spec gasoline engine in addition to the 3.2 diesel, and “features” expected by Americans, such as backup cameras, Bluetooth connectivity, etc. Or it could mean a substantially different truck with no diesel. We’ll have to wait and see. However, since the just-refreshed Tacoma is still saddled with an open-channel frame and rear drum brakes, it won’t take much for the new Ranger to massively outclass it on paper, as does the current Chevrolet Colorado.
Also of note is the intriguing reference to the return of the Bronco. If I were the execs at Ford I would make one of my pre-release goals buying up every surviving example of the mid-70s Bronco II and crushing them, then erasing all references in company literature. Every time Ford named something the “II” back then it was a ghastly, emasculated shadow of whatever the “I” was: Mustang II (and, heinously, Cobra II), Bronco II, even LTD II. Better to try to pretend they never existed.
Thermarest ProLite Plus
I remember the revelation of sleeping on my first Thermarest, in the early 1980s. For years I’d used various air mattresses, which were compact to carry, comfortable (if a bit bouncy), but prone to punctures (think southern Arizona backpacking . . .) and not good in cold weather; and foam pads, which were comfortable, puncture-proof, and well-insulated but, if thick enough, bulky and rather heavy. The marriage of the two was a stroke of genius, and I haven’t looked back since for backpacking, sea kayaking, and even, with the addition of the hedonistic base camp models, vehicle-oriented camping. Yes, there was still the odd puncture to deal with, but otherwise the Thermarest is indisputably the best of both technologies.
Cascade Designs has not by any means rested on the laurels of those first Thermarests. Especially with regard to the trekking models, they continually search for ways to reduce weight and storage bulk while retaining cushioning and insulation. So for a recent bicycle trip I decided to upgrade my 20-year-old, 3/4-length rectangular Thermarest to the current ProLite Plus. And was I glad I did.
The ProLite Plus, despite being a full-length model, is a bit lighter than my old one (1.6 pounds), and a bit thicker as well. Part of this savings came from the logical step of rounding off the ends of the original rectangular mattress, and tapering it to match the natural contours of the human body. More savings came from modern shell materials and diagonally die-cut foam. It stuffs to the same size as my old 3/4-length model, yet I was perfectly, even dreamily comfortable on it laid out over Negev Desert pebbles. Although I tend to roll around somewhat at night, I never had an issue with the width, and it was lovely to have cushioning under my legs and feet. I stayed warm on several nights that touched freezing—yet the rolled and stuffed mattress took up little precious space in my panniers.
A good night’s sleep is all the more critical when you’re expending a lot of energy during the day, and perhaps have a few muscles that are a bit stiff and protesting their recent treatment. The ProLite Plus contributed hugely to a rejuvenating slumber.
The ProLite Plus fit perfectly (and, here, invisibly!) under my semi-rectangular Western Mountaineering sleeping bag
Even TLCs need TLC now and then
In 38 years, the 1973 FJ40 you see above has, with the exception of dead batteries, never once failed to start and run and get me where I wanted to go. The closest it came was just a couple of years ago, when crud in the carburetor meant I had to clean the float bowl before it would maintain an idle. And one time, in Mexico's backcountry, the combination of a dead battery and bad gas forced me to replace the fuel filter while the engine was running. Scant glitches in an almost unbelievable record of reliability.
Still wearing most of its original paint, it also retains its original ring and pinion gears; until a couple of years ago it still had its original starter—a record of longevity I've never come across before. The front and rear side marker lamps? Original Toyota factory bulbs, all four of them, still burning 43 years after they were plugged in on the assembly line. Weird.
Now on its second F engine, in the last couple of years I noticed a significant loss in power, and inspection revealed low compression in one cylinder. At the same time, the H41 transmission and transfer case have been getting louder and louder with wear, also betrayed by significant slop when lifting off the throttle. So it's time for a bit of refurbishment, care of our master Toyota mechanic Bill Lee, formerly of Tucson but who infuriatingly keeps moving farther away from us, now 500 miles off in Farmington, New Mexico. Recently he called and said he had another FJ40 being trucked to him from southern Arizona, so we added ours to the shipment.
Bill is planning to install new piston rings and a new cam, do a valve job, and go through the transmission and transfer case. Anything else he notices he'll take care of as well. It will be a new lease on life for a loyal machine.
I know what you're wondering: I paid $3,500 for this Land Cruiser in 1978 when I purchased it from the original owner. Since it's now worth several times that despite 300,000-plus miles of use, it's safe to say it was a good investment, no?
Early days. Three Feathers in Redington Pass
Leading sea kayak tours in Mexico
4x4 Driving by Tom Sheppard, Edition 4
How do you review a book to which you made a small, but full-disclosure-needed, contribution? One way might be to simply avoid reviewing the bits you contributed, so that’s what I’m going to try here.
Tom Sheppard’s classic and comprehensive book on four-wheel-drive technique had its genesis in 1993 as the hard-bound The Land Rover Experience—a User’s Guide to Four-wheel Driving, sponsored by the manufacturer. I picked up a 1994 second edition, which I still own. Despite its exclusive focus on Land Rover vehicles, as an exhaustive and authoritative guide to four-wheel-drive technique in general it was like nothing I’d seen. By that time I’d owned a Land Cruiser for 15 years, had negotiated some of the most difficult trails in my region, and was using it to lead sea kayak tours to remote beaches in Mexico, yet many of the lessons—especially those dealing with driving in sand—were instantly useful.
Of course 1994 was the Paleolithic in terms of four-wheel-drive technology. Electronic traction control, then a brand new feature on Range Rovers, barely merited a sixty-word paragraph. Axle differential locks weren’t mentioned (not surprising, given that Land Rover has yet—in 2016—to embrace the feature). Hill-descent control? Electronically disconnectible anti-roll bars? Not even invented yet.
Flash forward to 1999, when Tom’s own nascent one-man publishing company, Desert Winds, took over production of the book, and the title was changed to Off-roader Driving and, in 2006, to Four-by-four Driving. Printing was changed to soft cover and monochrome to hold down the price, but each time the contents were thoroughly updated to explain the latest in four-wheel-drive systems and technology, until in the current, fourth edition, it takes up nearly a third of the book.
Why? As Tom puts it on the back cover, “ITDS.” It’s The Driveline, Stupid. Understanding how your vehicle works—how it converts engine power into traction on the ground, or how it can fail to do so—is absolutely critical knowledge if you want to exploit its full potential. Whenever I hand someone a copy of Four-by-four Driving, I say, “Don’t skip the first two chapters!” From explaining how an open differential works to investigating the astonishing traction-control system of the $250,000 Bentley Bentayga, Tom describes each advance and feature with the thoroughness one would expect from a former RAF test pilot—not sparing the criticism where necessary.
The driving sections, too, are set apart from similar books, chiefly by the overarching Golden Rule practiced by someone who has driven thousands of miles completely off-tracks in the Sahara, solo: Mechanical Sympathy. Everything from accelerating to braking is discussed with consideration for the vehicle as the number one priority. Learn the lessons here and you’ll not only be able to drive places you couldn’t before; you’ll do it with a lack of drama that will mark you as an accomplished operator. The analogy I like to use is of a pool player who has become fairly proficient at the game and shows off by slamming balls into pockets, versus the real pro who drops each ball in with a whisper, and sets his cue ball up perfectly for the next shot. Ascending and descending steep slopes, side slopes, water crossings, ice and snow, rocks, ditches—all covered.
Four-by-four Driving then goes on to a discourse in vehicle recovery, and much of this section I’ll let you critique on your own since I contributed the sections on Hi-Lift jack use and winching. Sheppard, you see, mostly eschews such crutches while playing around solo in the Algerian desert.
There is a further, valuable, advanced driving section, a primer on driving with trailers, and a useful introduction to expedition basics.
Criticism? Okay, a small one: In the last edition of the Vehicle-dependent Expedition Guide Tom allowed me to debate his, um, stubborn adherence to tube-type tires for heavy-duty expedition use. There’s no such second opinion in Four-by-four Driving, so I’ll restate here that I believe tubeless tires have surpassed tubed equivalents for virtually all practical use. A significant majority of tire problems in the field—even in remote regions—involves simple punctures, which with a tubed tire require complete breakdown to repair. A tubeless tire can be durably fixed with a plug in a couple of minutes without even removing the wheel from the vehicle, and if more extensive work is needed a Tyreplier and a set of tire irons will facilitate everything up to and including complete removal from the wheel. Any properly equipped expedition vehicle will be carrying a compressor capable of reseating the beads, so the overall time and effort spent on tire repairs is hugely reduced. There, I did my reviewer’s duty.
So—okay, I contributed a tiny section; yes, we sell this book on the Exploring Overland site. But Four-by-four Driving is simply too important to ignore for reasons of vested interest. If you are seriously interested in becoming a better backcountry driver, it’s a worthwhile investment. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go, because as I was skimming through the book to review it I found some stuff I, er, need to get caught up on.
$45 well spent. Find it here. Need I add it would make an excellent Christmas Present?
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Overland Tech and Travel is curated by Jonathan Hanson, co-founder and former co-owner of the Overland Expo. Jonathan segued from a misspent youth almost directly into a misspent adulthood, cleverly sidestepping any chance of a normal career track or a secure retirement by becoming a freelance writer, working for Outside, National Geographic Adventure, and nearly two dozen other publications. He co-founded Overland Journal in 2007 and was its executive editor until 2011, when he left and sold his shares in the company. His travels encompass explorations on land and sea on six continents, by foot, bicycle, sea kayak, motorcycle, and four-wheel-drive vehicle. He has published a dozen books, several with his wife, Roseann Hanson, gaining several obscure non-cash awards along the way, and is the co-author of the fourth edition of Tom Sheppard's overlanding bible, the Vehicle-dependent Expedition Guide.