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The Saga of a Ford Guy ending up with a Chevy pickup
I’ll have to apologize at the start of this column. To devote an entire page to a Chevy pickup may be more than some people can stand, including myself, but sometimes “ya gotta do what ya gotta do”. One other thing. A gearhead, say, someone like myself, can never give a wholesale endorsement of the “other brand”. The best endorsement you’ll ever get when a vehicle meets or exceeds expectations is, “it’s OK. I don’t mind it.” Over the next month or so, I replaced the PMD, brain box, and crankshaft position sensor but didn’t cure the problem. I did figure that I was closer to the solution since I’d managed to narrow the list of error codes coming from the on-board computer. Using a diagnostic guide I found on one of the more helpful web pages available, I unplugged the optic sensor on the injector pump and the diesel fired up, running in “limp mode”. The sensor was bad. Eventually I drove out to the local junkyard and purchased an old injector pump, pirated out the optic sensor and installed it in the Chevy. It did the trick. I did end up spending about $300 on parts, but figure it was worth it. A rebuilt pump starts at $800, which is the solution recommended by many with the problem I was having. It was time time to really try it out since I had to deliver something to my son Travis and pour a concrete driveway in Elk River for daughter Heidi and her husband Robbie. I hooked the Chevy to the trailer and loaded up the freight I needed to haul south– Travis' F-150. The Chevy's bumper assumed a definite tilt down, but seemed solid. I had a 300+mile trip to Elk River but the roads were fairly smooth. My Fords would do the trip OK, time to test the Chevy. I loaded up the three Little Girls at 11:00 pm after we got home from the 4-H Performing Arts and Dress Review. Alyssa had earned a trip to the State Fair at the event; I was pleased to say the least. The crusty old Norsk, Orlin Ostby, says Chevys steer themselves down the road, and Trapper concurs, but their infatuation for Chevys makes them a bit less than honest. Following that advice would have put me well out into the big swamp north of Washkish. I kept my hands on the wheel. I took time to re-bolt the bumper at a more respectable angle in Elk River. One of the neighbors, another Blue Star employee, lent me the use of his little stick welder to finish the job. I hauled a load
of surplus Class 5 from the driveway job back to Hill City. The load
was a bit tongue heavy, well, a lot tongue heavy so it was a slow
trip on the rougher stretches of Hwy 169. The hitch held great. The load to haul home was my first 4x4, a ‘78 F-150. Lying abed the morning before I had to load, I realized the trailer ramps were still in Elk River. Management, who had met us at Hill City for the weekend, headed me again south in the Chevy. I made the roundtrip in good time, fortunately I was going north in the Sunday afternoon on the July 4th weekend so the delays didn't bother me. I did stop to look over a nice '99 Ford Super Duty with a Powerstroke in Zimmerman, but was careful not to leave any drool on the bright red paint. Maybe some day. I met Travis at the Onamia Dairy Queen for lunch on the way.19mpg on this leg, but better keep the windows down on rougher roads so the noise from the loose front shock doesn’t annoy. Back in Hill City, neighbor Wayne helped me load up the classic Ford. I met Management and the Little Girls at the MacDonalds in Grand Rapids and we convoyed north to Roseau. Everything worked well, back home to Roseen’s Corner safe and sound. As for the Chevy, it’s OK, I don’t mind it. |
We live in an old brick house at Roseen's Corner, seven miles south of Salol on County 13 in Roseau County. This is where all the stories are written, usually in the wee hours of the morning just before the deadline. Trapper lives in a log house a few feet away. Trapper starts having coffee guests before 6 AM, usually Ms Toyota is the first and the rest straggle in throughout the morning. This reporter is usually the last, partially excused by the fact that I usually have worked the afternoon shift at the Blue Star the night before. |
Southwest
Angle Lexicon Abby the dog - a pudgy, 4 year old yellow lab - terrier cross that spends every minute possible with the columnist. ![]() Dick's
Buick - An early '90's Park Avenue that Trapper's buddy Dick had in the
shed. Pawned it off on the columnist for the extravagant sum of $300.
Came with a 5/50 Warranty - 5 seconds or 50 ft, whichever comes first. Hard
Driving Editor - The
former editor at the Warroad Pioneer.
Had a
Pontiac GTO, thus the hard driving moniker.
Ms
Toyota -
Trapper's oldest daughter. Also a trapper, she has become a rabid
Toyota afficianado even though she was raised to be a devoted Chevy
lover. She is well on her way to destroying her second Toyota pickup. Orlin
Ostby - A
Crusty old Norwegian who works at the Blue Star. You never know quite
what he is saying because much of his speech is in the old country
tongue. He took his huge ox Pum and a Red River oxcart to
Pembina,
ND, then down much of the old Pembina Trail in the summer of '08.
What started out as Walking the Trail ended up being
Trailering the Trail when the incompatibilities of an ox traveling at 2
mph and retired suburbanites aiming massive RV's down the road at
70+mph overcame the mission of the expedition. He made it past Little
Falls, exhibited the ox and cart at several big functions, trailered to
the St. Paul and walked the last several blocks into the '08 State
Fair, then was a participant in the Fair Parade and called it a
success, which it was.
I had to lay low in Salol,
to avoid the fallen women of Falun.
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