Scepter water can/Fynspray pump—the easy way

The New-Zealand-manufactured Fynspray galley pump is the best way to turn a Scepter water can into a convenient and fast dispensing system. The normal procedure, shown on several sites, involves cutting off the base of the larger of the two small sub-caps on the main Scepter screw-on lid, then drilling a one and one-half-inch hole around the remnant hole, which is only about three-quarters of an inch in diameter. You can do this on the lid that came with the can, or on a spare, which is what I did.

If you have a drill press and can secure the cap, this is an easy task. However, if you try to do it with a hand drill and a one and one-half inch hole saw, you won’t have any guide for the hole saw and can wind up really buggering the job. I found an easy work-around.

Instead of cutting off the screw base for the small cap, I left it in place, including its cap. I then used a cheap hole saw with a protruding guide bit, and drilled straight down through the top of the cap. The hole saw is slightly smaller in diameter than the cap, so it will shave off the circumference as you go. However, it will perfectly center the drill bit. If your hole saw is deep enough you can go all the way through. Mine wasn’t quite deep enough, but it scored the cap deeply enough that, by unscrewing and discarding the small cap, it cut the rest of the way through with zero walking. Cut off the unneeded securing ring, and . . . done.

The Fynspray pump works on both the up and down stroke, so it’s very fast. And you can leave the can upright, even secured in a holder if desired. The smaller cap on the lid serves as a vent for full flow.

The Fynspray mod is infinitely better than the insultingly ineffective Scepter hose and nozzle, which requires you to lay the can on its side, and has no provision for venting, so you must constantly tip the can up to relieve the resulting vacuum. Tip: If you’ve already bought the Scepter nozzle, you can repurpose its hose to make the extension for the Fynspray pump.

Fynspray pumps are available at Fawcett Boat Supply, among other places.

More on the 2024 Tacoma

With very, very few exceptions, the more I learn about the 2024 Tacoma, the more impressed I am by what Toyota has done to transform their number-one-selling mid-size pickup. Here are some updates to my previous post.

The Trailhunter model is by design set to be the go-to model for overland travelers, with good reason. It has a class-leading 1,700-pound cargo capacity—for comparison, that’s almost 150 pounds more than the current RAM 2500 Power Wagon. Like all the new Tacomas, the Trailhunter’s TNGA-F chassis is not only fully boxed, but reinforced at stress points with laser-welded gussets. All-coil suspension and OME shocks (not, however, as has been rumored, BP51s) should maintain excellent ride and handling when loaded. The tires are 33 inches in diameter, and the hybrid powertrain option, with its stupendous 465 lb.ft. of torque at 1,700 rpm, boasts a rear differential with a 9.5-inch ring gear, equivalent to that in the Land Cruiser. That is one beefy third member.

Add up the other features, whether standard or optional: steel ARB rear bumper with rated recovery points, available built-in air compressor, Rigid Industries auxiliary lighting, disconnectible front anti-roll bar, a locking rear diff, raised air intake, a 2,400-watt AC inverter on the hybrid i-Force MAX, and you’ve got the Tacoma we’ve been dreaming of.

Disappointments? One major one: There is no Access Cab available, only a crew cab with either a five or six-foot bed. But if you choose the six-foot bed you’ll be buying a “mid-size” truck with a wheelbase of 144 inches. That’s one inch less than the Tundra. Given the company’s obvious research into the overland market, I’m surprised at the lack of an Access Cab model with a six-foot-plus bed, for the many travelers who sleep back there.

Okay, two major disappointments: The hood scoop is still fake. Sigh . . .

As I mentioned, these hardly detract from the giant leap for mankind represented by the new Tacoma. There’s always the possibility that the company will add back the Access Cab option, although I’d bet it was solid data from sales numbers that made them decide to delete it in the first place. How many third-generation Access Cab Tacomas do you see driving around, compared to crew cabs? Not many.

The elegant (and impossibly light) Benchmade Narrows

As a longtime knife user/aficionado/connoisseur/nut, I’ve owned, reviewed, and just fondl . . . er, handled a lot of knives, ranging in price from a few bucks for a Mora bushcrafter to over a thousand for an exquisite Ichiro Hattori field knife with a pattern-welded blade cored with Cowrie-X steel at HRc 65.

Yet only once have I spontaneously exclaimed out loud when handed a knife. And as beautiful as it is, it wasn’t the Hattori.

I was in the Benchmade booth at the Overland Expo. One of the company reps, London Krapf, had got in touch with me via email and set up an appointment to take a look at their latest offerings. As a longtime owner of several Benchmade designs I was happy to oblige. When I met London, she showed me, among other new models, a stout-looking kitchen implement called the Station Knife—sort of a cross between a chef’s knife and a cleaver—and another called the Meatcrafter—essentially a fillet knife on steroids suitable for deboning anything from a bass to a bison. The latter looked like a versatile design for hunting and fishing, and I immediately tagged it for an article I was to write for Wheels Afield on the best new products at the show.

Then she walked me over to another display and said, “Here’s an interesting one we’re just introducing, called the Narrows.” She plucked a knife off the pegs that looked from the side very similar in size and shape to my Chris Reeve Sebenza, one of the best folding knives on the market.

She handed me the knife, and  . . . I blurted.

Honestly I don’t remember exactly what I blurted, but I’m afraid it might have been something along the lines of, “Holy shit!”

The knife was light. No, not just light; it was impossibly light, barely-there light, 900-fill goose down light, light in a way that made me wonder if Benchmade had found a source for Mithril.

London was grinning at me. “Pretty cool, huh?”

I looked closer. The knife’s handle was barely more than a quarter inch wide, yet it sat comfortably in my hand. Titanium scales and premium M380 steel drop-point blade, with handsome blue-anodized accents: screws, pivot, pocket clip, and ambidextrous thumb stud. It still incorporated Benchmade’s solid Axis blade lock—albeit without the usual steel liners. I tried the action, which was at least as silky as my Sebenza if not a little more so.

I handed it back reluctantly. After the show London got in touch again to confirm which models I wanted to test. I noted the Meatcrafter for the Wheels Afield review, then, even though I didn’t have a specific assignment for it, gave a professional pitch to get a Narrows as well, a pitch that went something along the lines of pleasepleasepleaseplease? And darned if one didn’t show up.

How light is this knife? My Sebenza, which also incorporates titanium scales, and whose blade is barely 15/100ths of an inch longer than the 3.43 inches of the Narrows, weighs 133 grams. The Narrows tickles the scales at 68 grams—almost exactly half. If you removed one side of the ambidextrous thumb stud it would probably knock off another gram or two. (The Narrows is user-serviceable with a T6 and T10 Torx bit.)

Now, let’s be fair. The Sebenza is rightly known as the strongest folding knife on the market. Chris Reeve’s Frame Lock is legendarily rock solid. Yet the Axis Lock of the Narrows—even without steel liners—feels reassuringly tight as well. There is absolutely no play in the open blade. Squeezing the titanium scales with all my thumb strength barely results in any flex.

Even so, I certainly don’t plan to use the Narrows to baton kindling in camp. The blade is .08 inches thick, compared to .12 for the Sebenza. But the Narrows adds a new dimension to the term EDC—as a knife for every day carry, this thing isn’t even there in a pocket. And as a conversation starter it hasn’t failed yet to elicit the same kind of outburst London got from me.

Benchmade is here. The Narrows is made in the U.S., and the company offers free sharpening for life.

The new ARB Earth Camper

In what is surely a natural progression, ARB has just announced its very own “adventure” trailer, which they’ve named the Earth Camper. At first glance, it seems to live up to the ARB reputation in terms of build quality and innovation.

It’s built around a massive, mandrel-bent and welded tubular chassis, which should provide absolutely flex-free support to the composite body panels. The trailer is supported by long-travel independent suspension employing, of course, Old Man Emu shocks. Electric brakes, alloy wheels (with Toyota lug spacing), and Maxxis all-terrain tires with spare are standard.

The salient feature of the trailer is the enormous clamshell back, which folds down at the push of a button to provide a raised, hard floor. A door then provides access to a queen-size bed. For quick overnight stays you can be tucked away inside a couple minutes. For a full camp, a tent erects around the floor to provide a completely sheltered dressing, sitting, and eating space. A dining table unfolds from the base of the bed area.

On the left side of the trailer is a full-pull-out kitchen, including a 96-liter dual-zone fridge freezer, a three-burner stove, and sink. There’s plenty of storage above and to the side. Internal tanks provide a full 140 liters (36 gallons) of water, and an additional storage nook holds a 20-liter jerry can. That’s more water than most full-size trailers and campers provide. Well done ARB.

Electrical power is provided by a 120-watt solar panel and a 100-amp-hour lithium battery—that’s right: standard LiFePO4 power. Again, well done—and there is room in the battery compartment for a second 100AH battery. You can also easily plug in portable solar panels for extra input. Charge control is via a high-quality Redarc system.

On the opposite side of the camper is an optional en-suite toilet and shower enclosure of luxurious proportions, and a Hot Tap water heater and shower system.

There are numerous other features, and optional awnings and side curtains that will transform the Earth Camper into the full epic Aussie quarter-acre encampment. The versatility—from two-minute crash pad to let’s-stay-a-month homestead—will be one of the trailer’s most attractive features.

I have no word yet on price or weight, but I suspect ARB will sell every one of these they can produce. find out more here.

Vintage Dodge Power Wagon camper

Full disclosure: I lifted this maddeningly fractional story off the Maple Leaf Up site, a forum for fans of Canadian military history and equipment. I was looking for ads for or images of early Power Wagons, as part of a review I’m writing for Wheels Afield on a new RAM Power Wagon.

On a page of various PW images I found this. Just the one page of an obviously longer piece, describing in part a fabulous camper built by S. Robert Russell and “his wife,” on a used Power Wagon they bought from a Miami car lot. Look at the features and you’ll see it would stand side by side with the most full-featured of its kind today. The article identifies the truck as “front-wheel drive,” which is clearly a mistake by the writer.

I Googled S. Robert Russell, and “S. Robert Russell Power Wagon,” but found nothing. If anyone else tries and finds the bottom of the rabbit hole, let me know!

Pouring oil the correct way

Wait. Does anyone need instruction in how to pour oil into a crankcase?

Apparently I do, because it was only last year that I noticed a little icon near the top of a bottle of oil I was pouring into the Land Cruiser.

I had always poured it this way:

But the little icon told me to pour it this way:

And, well, to use the colloquialism . . . Duh. Poured this way the oil dispenses with zero gurgling, since air immediately enters the top of the bottle.

If I’m the only numpty on the planet, oh well. But if you read this and thought, “Ah ha!” Then you’re welcome.

Traction board recovery: Go slow and get it right the first time

I teach a simple rule for retrieving a vehicle bogged in sand: The slowest recovery is usually the fastest, because it works right the first time.

Time after time I watch people mildly bogged in sand get out the MaxTrax (or whatever traction boards they have), dig a peremptory trench in front of the sunken tires, cram the board in, and give it the beans, which results in nothing but the tires digging in deeper because they aren’t actually in contact with the board. Or, worse, the tire will be barely on the edge, and the spinning tread will fail to catch but will melt off the first row of spikes on the board, even alloy versions. The vehicle is now stuck worse than before and the expensive traction boards are damaged.

This won’t work.

The tire is not in contact with the board. It will only sink farther.

Don’t do it that way. Take the time to fully dig out in front of the tire, enough so the traction board makes full contact. If possible you want the trench dug out so far that the tire wants to roll down onto the board. And make sure the trench has the gentlest possible slope. Don’t do what one poor fellow I watched did and scoop out all the sand into a nice little mound in front of the trench, right where the tire needed to go.

This will work. Board in firm contact with the tire, and a gentle ramp to climb.

If you’re solo and need to keep moving once you’re free, don’t forget to put the shovel back in the vehicle, and leash the traction boards to your rear bumper so they’ll follow you like obedient dogs until it’s safe to stop.

Americans always seem to be embarrassed by getting stuck, when in fact it’s a normal part of exploration. Adopt the attitude of my British friends, who use the mildest bogging as an excuse to take a break and brew some tea.

A stylish one-off for the G-Wagen's 500,000th celebration

Mercedes Benz has produced this achingly tempting but singular homage to the Gelandewagen to commemorate the model’s 500,000th production unit. Retro green paint, black trim, spare tire cover, even period-orange fender-top turn signals are going to have a lot of people begging the company to produce a limited run. And look at those silver alloys, mounted with tires that actually display sidewall, unlike the typical AMG boulevard showpiece.

Underneath, of course, the chassis, running gear, etc. is all the current generation, although we’re promised (but not yet shown) a period checkered interior treatment. I’d bet a 500-example run of these would sell out in minutes.