#g-body

[f-yeahimpalass]

[hockeymilf]

1985 Olds 442

[americaisdead]

albuquerque, new mexico.  january 2022

© tag christof

[utilize56]

#G-BodyConnection...

[turbodean87]

Notching Your G-Body Frame to Fit Wider Rear Rubber

GBodyParts offers a great solution for notching your G-Body frame so you can use a wider tire for better traction at the track!

[restroom]

Buick update:

So the ticking wasn’t the fucking cam sensor that didn’t want to come out, it was the fucking crank sensor. Reluctor ring wasn’t clearing the channel in the sensor, and this was new behaviour since having sat for the years it was in the painter’s garage, but he ran it every few weeks until warm. Miced the replacement sensor to factory reluctor-ring-fin (whatever the fuck it’s called) clearance specs, but won’t know if this has done any good until I can get it started again. For that, I have to get the intercooler and shit back in (now that’s fighting) for the umpteenth time before I can tell if the OEM reluctor-ring-fin has been bent as a result of this, in which case I’ll need to pull a bunch more out of the way and incur another $200-400 cost replacing both (might as well throw in a new balancer as it’ll be off) and hope it stops there. I fucking hate electronically-controlled motors. Every goddamned time I yank this thing apart –having just sold off more than enough top-quality equipment to’ve just pulled and rebuilt the little fucker on a stand– to fix one thing, as soon as I get it back together it’s something else. I realise that this is a factory-stock turbo motor with rudimentary 1987 electronics, but it doesn’t have the miles on it nor did it exhibit a single fucking issue until the rest of the car’s restored, ran well enough I didn’t even see the point in getting a Turbo Buick tuner’s opinion before I was ready with the rest of the car. There’s no fucking good reason for a car to be assed up with this fucking level of electric/electronic garbage. Sure, it’s a super-fuckin’-special little motor, and at the time it was built it was a goddamned performance miracle, and is still a platform of unimaginable flexibility in the racing world, but I’m too fuckin’ old to deal with all this bullshit. I have to teach myself around my understanding how shit like this even works, so troubleshooting the build

[seat-safety-switch]

No man is ever free of the rules and constraints of his homeland. For me, I had left the glorious land of Canada years and years ago, in search of rust-free hoopties with which to pop clutches in. Homesickness eventually set in, though, and I soon found myself searching for a truly Canadian car.

It wasn’t enough to simply buy Iraqi Taxis and other Canadian-made G-bodies, for those were enforced upon Canadians to construct based on a master plan constructed by some American ultramanager. I could not even reliably convince myself that a Ford Frontenac of all cars was Canadian enough to assuage my guilt at having left the land of my birth.

There was nothing left to do except start my own car company - a truly Canadian car company, and in the spirit of Canada it was founded somewhere in the northwestern United States because rent was really cheap. Our initial model was called the Hoser, and it was a beaut.

Rather than four-wheel drive, we opted for double-double drive, with a confusing array of gear selectors proffered to the driver with an exhortation that there was really no wrong choice to make. Add to that the sprightly feel by having built the entire frame, Morgan-style, exclusively from beaver-felled maple curved by authentic NHL hockey-stick heat guns, and you had yourself a vehicle that could work its way through both an unpaved mountain road or one of those annoying tight corners in parking lots with a decorative snow warning flag on it that you keep hitting the curb with your back wheels while turning right.

It was truly a fantastic car, but we had made one terrible mistake, one glaring oversight so atrocious that it could not be forgiven even by my fellow apology-addicts. The cupholders were too shallow to sufficiently hold a Timmies cup. Hit a bump, and the god damn lid pops off and gets coffee everywhere.