I bought my second Beetle, a ’63, knowing its engine was on borrowed time. When the time came, I decided to take the plunge and rebuild it myself, following the directions in John Muir’s classic book. It was going to be a rite of passage: rebuilding my own engine, in the basement of may parents’ house, where I was temporarily bivouacking. Pulling it out, and stripping it of its housing and other accessories was as exciting as when I took apart my first Briggs and Stratton. But when I sat there looking at the bare case, barrels and cylinder heads, I suddenly chickened out and decided to leave it to a pro. Just as well, but I still managed to screw it up.
I plopped the engine into the back of Mom’s Coronet wagon, and took it to one of so many little VW repair shops at the time. There, they talked me into putting big bore cylinders on it, upping capacity from 1200 to 1350 cc, a swell as a bump in compression. You’ll love it, they assured me. I was skeptical, because I wanted maximum reliability for my restless travels. But they talked me into it.
After a week or so, I picked it up the lovely melange of magnesium, cast iron, and steel, and proceeded to re-assemble the accessories. I plopped in the distributor, set the timing with a static light, and after hooking it all up, it started right up and ran like a top. I took it easy the first few weeks, but the increase in power was very obvious, and well beyond even my expectations.
I decided to make one of my frequent dashes to Iowa with it, to hear a friend’s piano recital. I left in the afternoon, and hit the mountains of Western Maryland in the fading light. There’s a very long grade on I-70 that had always slowed my 1200 cc Beetles to some 45 mph. Not now: my Bug felt like it was supercharged; it hammered away up the mountains at a good 60 or so. Wow!
As I rolled downhill into Breezewood, PA to gas up, I hear a disconcerting noise from the back. I got out, slid under the engine, and could clearly make out the sound of exhaust gasses escaping between the head and cylinder barrel. Pulled studs! The curse of so many Type 1 motors. The steel cylinder studs pull out of the soft magnesium-block threads, most typically when the engine is overheated.
I was livid; it’s exactly what I was afraid would happen when they talked me into those big bore barrels. I drove back slowly in the cool night air, parked in front of the shop around two or three in the morning, and slept in the back seat (yup) until the shop opened. I was full of righteous indignation, and insisted they fix it instantly under warranty so I could make it to my friend’s recital the next day.
The had it apart in a flash, put in stud-saver thread inserts, and reassembled it. By noon or so, the owner handed me the keys, and told me that the ignition timing had been advanced to some ridiculous amount; I can’t remember exactly the number. Or I’ve repressed it out of shame. He didn’t charge me anything, but sure gave me a dirty look as I drove off. And no, the Beetle wasn’t nearly as fast up the grade of I-70 the second time in twenty-four hours.
As a teenager, I never got into the Bug thing at all, although many of my buddies did. I was a motorcycle guy and a JAPANESE motorcycle guy at that. I had a well abused 1975 CB550F in 1982 at age 17 that I simply could not kill; no amount of unnecessary, childish, wrenching would even faze the thing. Except once, when I over torqued the oil filler plug and broke the pan. That cost me like $100 for a new pan. However the bike was so well designed you could replace the pan without removing the engine.
Okay it wasn’t once, it was twice. One of the needles in one of the carbs was worn out, so I replaced the needles and seats. A real piece of cake, actually, the bike was brilliantly designed that removing the airbox and all four carbs was so simple even an idiot 17 year old like me could do it. The float bowls had brass screws and the metal of the carbs themselves was first rate. Nothing stripped. The float pins slid like the mechanism of a rifle they were so well built. The seat had a brilliant little fork holding it. Piece of cake! I replaced all the needles and seats and had everything re-installed in a couple of hours.
No more gas leaks but the bike ran like shit above 3000 rpm, just where the fun began. It missed and chugged where it used to wail. After about three months of misery I convinced myself the floats needed to be reset. I took the carbs off and took them to a Honda specialist; I had installed all the needles upside down! Suitably re-installed, the bike then once again wailed forth! Fifty horsepower in a 400 lb bike was loads of power to a kid of that age. Heck, it would give me a thrill now except at my age, thrills are having the time to do a post here for all my CC buddies to read. How things change….
The major difference between that 550 SuperSport and my friends’ Bugs is the Honda actually ran ALL THE TIME, even with me monkeying on it. The Bug boys were constantly talking about how to fix their Bugs and I was screaming around on my Honda with Kerker header and no baffle, more often than not with some rebellious prom queen holding me tight, heh,heh, much to the jocks’ consternation, since I played clarinet and saxophone, not half-back.
I used to get Harley guys laugh at me, “Har, har, will that Honda start?” I wonder where they got that one? I used to see Hog guys outside of the local stripper bar (the Village Green) going into all kinds of drunken gymnastics trying to get their Shovelheads going. (I NEVER rode plastered, by the way, I would always find a cutie former prom-queen-cum secretary looking for a husband, which CERTAINLY was not me at the time, type to drive me and my mates around when we were hammered beyond recognition) Mine never failed me (prom queen or SuperSport) and it sure should have because I beat the bark off of it every opportunity I got which in a small town on Vancouver Island in the early 1980s was easy since there wasn’t a lot of traffic or cops around. That Honda never, in the three years I horribly abused it, never once failed to do anything I ever asked of it, much of the time above red-line. Really, I couldn’t kill it and when I moved up to a brand new 500 Interceptor, I sold the SuperSport to my Mad Scotsman head-banger buddy Angus, who also did not succeed in destroying it and if anyone could do kill a machine, it was him. I last saw it on a used bike lot in 1986 and it still ran great as he had bought a 750 Interceptor. We then started to terrorise the area pack riding together, narrowly escaping jail, but that is another, true, Dukes of Hazzard kind of thing for another day.
And that is the reason I love Honda stuff. I have two of them now and they both strike me as exquisitely well engineered products. This leads to Sleazy Used Car Salesman Days. We had a 1966 Bug 1200 we got for almost nothing. It was my task to drive it around to sell it, since there were very few Type I Bugs left in Canada by about this time, say, 1990. I found it crude, slow, noisy and freezing cold in the winter. People on the street, however, just loved it. They swooned over it, telling me of their teenage years. I didn’t really understand since I had grown up in the Japanese car era, which were basically bulletproof, or at least much better than a Bug. I mean, in 1974 you could plunk your $2500 down on a Nissan or Toyota and drive the thing for five years and spend nothing on it before it dissolved. Buying a SuperBeetle at the time would have cost scads more and would have been a service headache. Same for anything American, like those beauties, the Vega and Pinto.
We also have to remember really how much better cars are now than the were in 1975. Ten years and 160,000 km are nothing now, even for American cars. Well, maybe not American cars, but there are loads of 20+ Accords, Civics and Corollas on the street out front of my house. I don’t see any 20 year old Fords or Chevys, though. And you know what? Not 200 m from where I sit, there is a 1975 CB550F SuperSport on the street, still wailing away, with a guy my age riding it. Talk about engineering!
As a slight PS I will be in Mexico soon and lots of pics will be taken!
Motorcycles have always been a bit mysterious to me. It never seems like they have enough parts to work. I can handle electronic fuel injection, ecms, ecus etc. But reserve tank valves and magnetos throw me for a loop. As far as Bugs go, I don’t get the attraction either.
But can you do an EMU?
Timing is everything. I had a neon strobe light I could only use at night, so every VW tuneup was followed by a little tweaking by neon. Pretty easy with the distributor right out there.
Later the ’72 Pinto kept overheating at highway speed. Luckily I’d put in gauges, so I kept it from boiling over. But I never could get to the bottom of why. I even replaced the thermostat, in spite of the hell I had to go through to get the water pump off. No effect. Limped it 300 miles to get back to school, stopping every half hour. Ultimately it turned out there was a damned little plastic ball valve in the vacuum advance hose, and it was in the wrong way. 20 second fix after all that. Why I never checked the timing advance I can’t say. I never found out what that damned valve was for either. I did learn that timing is everything.
Dakdaks are easy to time probably the easiest motor Ive run across; adjust points to correct gap turn engine to no1 firing position align crank pulley notch and with key on turn distributor untill points open tighten distributor. John Muir probably describes it better his bible on VWs was brilliant especially where garages refuse to touch them and when they do a backyard shade tree mechanic is needed to sort the mess out.
MikePDX, you should try engine off static timing with a tail light bulb and a wire with alligator clips. Set the engine timing where it’s supposed to be like in the picture above. Attach the alligator wire to the coil wire, turn on the ignition, then rotate the distributor until the light bulb comes on. Tighten the distributor nut. Rotate the engine clockwise and counterclockwise with your socket and wrench and if the light comes on when it’s supposed to, then it’s set correctly.
Valve clearance and timing, the two critical items. Knowing what I know now about timing and ported vacuum advance, etc, I set them to about 28-32 degrees BTDC maximum advance with a strobe timing light and let the idle timing fall where it may.
I rebuilt the engine in my 1961 Falcon last winter. It was the 170 cubic inch engine that is original to the car. It was a sludge monster when I took it apart. I had it bored 0.030 over and ground the valves and valve seats. When I bought the car, it had a 170 from a 1962 Falcon. I did the engine swap in the driveway on afternoons with no air tools, so it took two weeks, but it was a success. With about 1,100 miles on it now, it runs like a top!
Yup stuff of that age was sure easy to work on. I got my wrenching experience on a very used, high-miler Datsun 1200. That little five main bearing, forged crank motor was impossible to kill. However, at the astronomical mileage it had when I bought it for $450, everything else had to be replaced, including starter, alternator and water-pump. The odometer only had five digits but it had rolled for sure. It had at least 160,000 miles on it when I got it. It was my winter car. At the time, I was living in Duncan on Vancouver Island, going to school at Malaspina College in Nanaimo and driving taxi in Victoria. From Nanaimo to Victoria is 110 km and from so I would very often drive that little car 200 km a day, of course at 70+ mph. The little 1200 screamed for mercy and of course I didn’t give it any.
Finally, in 1985, it was just about to die. I bought a new 1985 Sprint. I took the tires off the Datsun which were new Michelins and replaced the horrible stock rubber on the Sprint with them. Made it handle really well.
My 1961 Falcon had a 170 cubic inch engine from a 1962 Falcon when I bought it in May 2010, but it also came with the original 170. Last winter, I rebuilt the original engine. When I took it apart, it was a sludge monster. I ground the valves and their seats and had it bored 0.030 over along with replacing all of the bearings and the oil pump gears. When I did the engine swap this May, I did it in the driveway on afternoons with no air tools, so it took two weeks. It came out good, though. The engine now has about 1,100 miles on it and runs like a pro.
Oops, I thought the other post didn’t go through.
I was a sucker for both bugs and hondas. Not being a very good mechanic, however, I aways did better with the bikes. A 1972 Honda SL175 saw offroad and onroad duty and never failed. Couldn’t take it to sea so I sold it. I’ve thought I was stupid several times. That was just one of them.
The total degrees of ignition timing advance is critical not only to decent power but also to engine life .
Timing @ idle speeds isn’t important as there’s no load then .
Many 36 & 40 HP VW engines suffered broken cranks from folks adding ‘ just a bit ‘ of extra timing so’s they’d ” run better “…
GREAT stories ! .
-Nate