In my last article I mentioned that I sold my VW bus for a pittance in order to get something bigger, stronger, and four-wheel-drive. That something was a 1971 International Travelall ¾ ton four-by-four.
One Sunday, I attended a garage sale out in the country near Dallas, OR. The man that was running the sale had some pretty nice stuff, including an original Spencer rifle. But just as I was leaving, I noticed an olive green Travelall sitting in the driveway with a sign in the window. I turned around and went back to ask him about it. According to him it needed some brake work and had been sitting a little while. He only wanted four hundred dollars for it.
It was a three quarter ton, four-by-four with a 392 V8 engine, divorced NP205 transfer case, and Borg Warner 12 automatic transmission. So of course, I had to have it.
I got the four hundred from selling my van and bought a battery and a can of gas as well. And off I went to get my new ride. It started right up and ran just like a truck that had been sitting. The brakes were barely functional, but worked well enough to get it the few miles to home. All it took to make it roadworthy was a carburetor rebuild, new brake cylinders, and a battery.
Now a few words about this truck. 1210, in International lingo, means ¾ ton. Now ¾ ton, in International lingo, means 1 ton in the Big Three’s rating system. And while the aforementioned three were busy trying to make their trucks more car-like, IHC was busy trying to make them even more truck-like. Take for instance the simple act of going over a speed bump at ten mph: in a Ford, Dodge, or Chevy, that would be a reasonable speed to yield only minor discomfort in an unloaded truck. However in a 1210 International, it would feel like thirty mph with no springs whatsoever. To give you an idea of the type of rattle and bump ride one could expect from an IHC 1210 4×4 here is a video shot during hunting season 2001 listen to all that noise, it’s the truck.
Another downside to owning an International with a the 392 V8 was the fuel mileage (or lack thereof). Eight mpg was pretty much the standard, city or off-road. Of course, that’s why IHC put three fuel tanks in it. Two saddle tanks of twenty gallons each and a fifteen gallon tank in the back. That’s right, the equivilent of a fifty-five gallon oil drum for gas tanks. And one hunting trip we actually filled all three tanks three times.
It was a really nasty hunting season, rainy, windy, cold. But we were determined to get in on the last few days of elk season. So my friend Jerry and I set off in the Travelall. We filled up on the way, which cost us an arm and leg. We got into our area, but the weather was so bad that we ended up sitting inside the truck. I had gotten a new (to me) rifle that year. With my old rifle, I had been in the habit of loading it when we stopped, and lowering the bolt with the trigger pulled onto a chambered cartridge (called safari rest). So I did the same in this new one. As the day slowly wore on and we passed the time watching the rain beating indecently on the windshield, we both fell asleep. Suddenly I was awakened by the sound of hooves. I put my head up and went to cycle the bolt of my rifle. Bang! It went off, discharging into the floor of the truck. Jerry woke with quite a start and looked me blankly in the eyes. “Damn”, I said. The new rifle had a very different safety and in my groggy confusion I had done things backwards. Needless to say, I have changed my ways since then.
After some alternating explaining and apologizing, we got to looking at the truck. There was a nice round hole in the center hump. And there was a jagged hole in the hood. The bullet had bounced off of the transmission, severed the kick-down wire, went through the air cleaner and exited through the hood. Of course the truck ran fine. So we renewed our determination to hunt and Jerry braced himself, as he had no choice but to hunt with me, being the passenger as he was.
We started driving up to a place were we had seen elk once before. At this point, the weather was starting to reach gale force proportions. Trees were falling and the streams were overflowing. But we continued on unabated, until the truck stopped half way up the mountain. It felt like it had run out of gas, and because the fuel gauges never really worked, we assumed that it had. So we poured in the contents of our Jerry can and tried to start back up the hill. It would not run for more than a minute at a time, so we rolled back and turned around. It ran fine facing the other way so we decided to go all the way back to the city for fuel.
When we filled up in Dallas, the truck was not all of the way empty. But we took off back to the mountain, figuring that the problem was fixed. It was nearly afternoon now and the road was strewn with downed trees. Our mountain road was now a veritable stream, but up we went. Until the truck stopped, same a before. I was baffled, so I gave in and put on my poncho and crawled into the stream of frigid downhill water under the truck. Everything looked OK until I had Jerry crank it over a few times. That’s when I spotted the fuel spewing out just above the front leaf spring. Funny thing, the fuel line had been cut about half way through by being caught between the spring and axle tube. When we were on a normal grade, the spring pushed up on the line, closing the cut. But when we pointed it up hill the front springs were less burdened and let the fuel line cut open up. That was a first time drive-ability issue diagnosis for me!
I of course had a few spare bits laying around the back of the truck and got the fuel line all patched up. Just as I was screwing on the last hose clamp, freezing water running down my back and fuel running down my arm, a State Policeman drove up and asked if everything was OK. “It is now” we said. He then advised us that the road was not safe and that we should leave before a tree fell on us. We did leave, but not before finally conquering that mountain!
When we finally got back home to Silverton, I was rounding the corner of our road behind the barns and gave the truck a little too much gas. The road was very muddy and the back end slipped out. I counter steered, but the left rear of the Travelall caught the back of my 1957 IHC S120 and pushed it into the side of a Volvo 240 I had just bought. Wrecking all three of my vehicles in a single swipe was the perfect end to this disastrous hunting trip. The Travelall was still functional after using a High Lift jack to bend back the rear end. The ’57 was not even scratched, and the Volvo’s passenger door was caved in with the window stuck in the up position. All in all, it was the worst hunting trip in all my memory and Jerry stopped hunting with me for awhile (can’t say I blame him at all).
There are many more stories associated with that truck. Like the time I spun a tire right off of the wheel and wrapped it all around the axle. Only to get it off and have it roll down a mountain into a creek. The late Peter Puppo recovered it and somehow managed to get the remaining tire off of the wheel with only his pocket knife.
But there is not enough room here to tell all of the sordid tales associated with that old tank. Eventually, the eight mpg started to get to me and I sold the Travelall to Peter. When I did, the front left wheel bearing was starting to go out and I told him not to drive it until we could replace it. About a month later, he pulled into the driveway with the wheel smoking and asked me if he could park it on the farm while he waited to get the money to fix it. “Sure” I said, “but you have been driving it like that, haven’t you?” He said he thought it would be “OK”, but now it wasn’t.
It sat next to a greenhouse for several months before I decided I should start it up and get it going. So I started it up and drove it slowly down an adjacent gravel road. Suddenly I noticed a wheel and tire rolling past me on my left in a field. And then it dawned on me that it was my wheel. The brakes were ineffective because the wheel had taken the brake drum with it. And the steering was unresponsive as well since it was the front wheel. But a down shift and emergency brake brought the Travelall to a halt. I had to have it towed back to my house on a flat bed, even though my house was literally no more than eight hundred yards away!
The truck sat some more and Peter worked out a deal to get something else. One day the never-used spare tire sitting up against the truck spontaneously exploded. I found it about one hundred feet away with a big hole in the sidewall. I took that as a sign to get rid of the truck. A friend who owned an identical truck (same color and all) but in pristine condition came and scavenged all the good bits off of it. And then my almost bulletproof Travelall went to the crusher. An inglorious end to a great truck, but after all, trucks are tools and even the best of them can eventually be used up. And I knew that some of my old truck would live on in my friend’s perfect Travelall.
When I met a new best friend at the start of 7th grade in the fall of 1972, his family owned two cars that have become favorites of mine: a black ’72 Chrysler Newport and an olive green ’71 Travelall. So, this weekend has been a great nostalgia trip for me.
I absolutely loved that Travelall. Fort Wayne, Indiana was the site of an International plant that built big trucks and Scouts, and there were a lot of Travelalls around. I had ridden in a lot of station wagons, but THIS was a station wagon! Theirs was a 1010 Custom (IIRC) with the woodgrain and the black pebble-finish roof, just like the promo picture near the start of the article. I was not driving yet, and do not recall if theirs had the 392 or the smaller 345. I will never forget the solid metallic “clack” of the door slam when you got in or out of the car.
They were a family of 5 and I recall taking a trip to Michigan with them. It was the only time I was ever comfortable 3 across in a front seat. They replaced the Travelall with a ’73 Dodge Royal Sportsman van that seated 8, which was an even better travel vehicle.
Everybody has known the Suburban for eons, but they forget that before 1973, the Suburban was an oddball 3 door vehicle. I cannot help but think that the ’71 Travelall was one of the influences on the modern Suburban that followed. That generation of Travelall remains one of my favorite vehicles ever, and I would make a spot for one in my driveway today if the right one came along.
The pickup and utility-vehicle market changed; and International Harvester was unable to change with it.
Even in the best of times, IH wouldn’t have had the resources or volume to justify the huge amount of money for smog and safety engineering. But to complicate things, the truck was moving away from its roots as a farmer’s tool, to a personal vehicle and designer accessory. Jeep, with its flagship Wagoneer, was in the same situation; that was solved by selling the entire operation to an established automobile company. And the Wagoneer, at least, had the benefit of timeless styling – designed for utility use, with painted-metal interiors fit for railroads and city workers, it dressed up splendidly in final incantation, with leather, fake wood-paneling and bling.
International never acquired that sort of timeless design, for whatever reason. It’s B-Series trucks, including the Travelall, were obviously products of the late 1950s – wraparound windshields, rounded lines, headlights set in fender extensions forward. Likewise, final last body style was so obviously 1970-ish.
Thirst for gasoline, tired design, mechanical reliability problems, coming safety standards, low volume…and a parent corporation in trouble and with no Detroit company to take it off their hands. They gave it a go; with purchased engineering and sometimes actual engines; but the small-truck line was secondary to the corporate identity of IH; and the company was in a period of having to pare down to basics.
The end, in the end, was inevitable.
My grandmother’s second husband worked at the IH vehicle plant until it closed (which was years before my grandmother married him). I reget now that I never got to know him better (the relationship between my mother and her was a bit strained in those years) and that we never stat down and talked about those IH trucks/SUVs and what he felt about that job. He’s been gone a little over 10 years now. Every time I see a Scout or a Travelall I think of him.
What a story! Jeez…I’m a wimp, I would have turned around long before the end of that trip.
“The bullet had bounced off of the transmission, severed the kick-down wire, went through the air cleaner and exited through the hood.”
I think I saw Bugs do this to Yosemite Sam’s hat once. 🙂
Only with a Cornbinder can you shoot the truck without (totally) interrupting the hunting trip.
Great article, it reminds me a lot of Patrick F. McManus’s writing. He could have gotten into a situation like this too!
Sure is a noisy old thing I thought LandRovers of ancient times were bad Ive only ever seen a couple of these and never a runner but single figure mpg is not a big drawcard in NZ.Did see a couple in Aussie but not in use once Toyota built the HiLux noone wanted anything else except Landcruisers. Is there any model Inter you havent owned?
Hmm, never owned a Travelette (I would sure like to though) or Scout II. I have owned Land Rovers as well. If I had to have a rig in the Outback it would diffidently be a 70 series Cruiser though.
That thermostat housing extension pipe thingy says everything you need to know about how overbuilt that truck is. Wowza!
I had a 1973 Scout II with a the 392 and the automatic for my first car at the age if 17. The thing would tow a mountain but got all of 9 mpg. The front half was the same as the Travellall but the read half of mine was so rusty the fenders flapped in the breeze.
Another brilliant story – thank you! 🙂
I’ve had hunts like that. I’ve never shot my rig but I did have one of my dogs destroy the interior of one truck.
Excellent story. I can’t wait till lunch so I can watch the video!
“Wrecking all three of my vehicles in a single swipe was the perfect end to this disastrous hunting trip.”
Perfection. Great article!
Except that thin steel pipes connect the heads to the water pump.
A friend of mine in Dunsmuir has a collection of this generation Cornbinders, including an olive green 3/4 ton 4×4 Travelall with the 392. I dont remember the year, but its got a 727 Torqueflite, not the Borg Warner.
Tragicomedy gold, that’s what this one is.
Thanks for sharing it!
Michael, one of your best yet. Loved it!
We had a couple of IH pickups of this vintage at the tv station for hauling supplies up to the mountain-top transmitter, and one of them was a 3/4 ton 4×4. So I know exactly what you mean about its (non) springing qualities. Unbelievably harsh.
I was laughing so hard…. because I can tell you from first hand experience, Mike’s stories are all true.
“Funny thing, the fuel line had been cut about half way through by being caught between the spring and axle tube. When we were on a normal grade, the spring pushed up on the line, closing the cut. But when we pointed it up hill the front springs were less burdened and let the fuel line cut open up.” – Priceless.
Love the pictures, too because they could be any year from 1972-present. In my perfect world, we all drive IH and gas is 25 cents a gallon.
I neeeeed that truck. Damn you Bill
Nice story man, I have a 73 travelall and am going to buy a 72 T-all 3/4t 4×4 this week
I drive my 1972 1210 everyday. It gets 9 mpg. Just not right in the head they say. No power brakes, steering, A/C, windows, locks ect. 4 on the floor with an enormous steering wheel. AM radio. sTuCk In ThE 70’S. Maybe that is why I live alone?