Panelectomy - Interior Part I

Taking stock of where we are: Hood, windshield frame, top, and trunk lid removed. Taking stock of when we are: About 14-15 March 2009. Since I decided to start The Blog after most of the demolition work was complete, the beginning posts (this one included) will be a couple of months off. (Psst: In real-time, the bodywork is done and it’s in final primer - paint should be applied soon, the engine is almost put back together, I have a bunch of brand-new parts in boxes, and my walk-in sandblasting/painting enclosure is complete.)

So there I was, looking at an orange-ish, faded red, semi-stripped down ’67 TR4A knowing that everything was going to be dismantled eventually, but wondering how to put the work into some level of orderly chaos. I had been working from a top-down approach and I was noting what needed to be done to separate body from frame.

- Hood? Check

- Windshield Frame? Check

- Top? Check

- Trunk Lid? Check

- Dash, Wiring, Seats, Steering Column, Doors, Fenders, Body Chrome, Gas Tank, Seatbelts, Bumpers, Grille, Heater, Interior Panels (what was left of them), Kick Panels, Linkage, etc.? Nope

Today, we will focus on the interior and door panels - after a short introductory tangent…

Even though the seats are some of the easiest things to remove on the car as a whole, you may want to leave them in for a while so you have a place to sit while taking stuff apart in the surrounding area. Also worth mentioning now, during preamble, is the door jamb seal. In the previous post, ‘The Bonnet, to Boot’, I neglected to point out that this seal goes all the way up the windshield frame so some of it will need to be removed before getting here. As with much of the pieces/parts removal, please inspect the seal prior to pulling the ripcord – replacement costs are typically directly proportional to the amount fun had taking something apart. The seal consists of an outer ‘furflex’ material (it’s just furry/fuzzy rubber stripping that keeps noise, wind, and water ingress to a minimum and, to an extent, keeps your doors from rattling) and an inner steel-reinforced strip that secures into the seal channel along the door recesses. Removal is just a matter of working one area loose and pulling until you get it all off. Fortunately, my ramblings have not strayed too far from the topic. Getting back to the panels…

By now you should have a nicely-accessible cab to work in without the hindrances of the windshield or convertible top (or surrey top if that’s what you’re into). The interior panels on the ’67 TR4A are not very sophisticated in the fastening department. Aside from screws and glue here and there, the only unobvious fasteners are those that hold the door panels on. So, after you’ve unscrewed the kick panels (the panels under the dash directly forward of the doors), quarter trim panels (those right above the wheel wells), and rear bulkhead board (I think you can figure that one out) you should be left with glued-on vinyl trim stuck to both wheel wells and ‘B’ posts (we’ll get to the door panels in a minute). There is a nice, big, shiny bolt that holds your seatbelt in the middle of each wheel well in addition to two eye hook bolts on either side of each seat. For now, just remove the chromed bolts on the wells and leave the eye hooks on the floor pan and ‘B’ posts.

Intermission Time: The car’s posts are the vertical support structures found forward of and behind each door. On the TRs, the front posts, holding the door hinges, are ‘A’ posts and the back ones, holding the door strikers, are the ‘B’ posts. Unimaginative as it may be, a four-door car would have a set of ‘C’ posts, normally housing the striker assemblies for the rear doors (the ‘B’ posts would share front and rear door duties). Limousines could have more exotic letters in their posts’ names, but we don’t have all day here.

Regardless of your post situation, we’re left with removing vinyl from them and your wheel wells. They’re just glued on, but the wheel well coverings have some troubling material behind to add padding and plush to the décor. There’s really no secret here, just scrape, pull, swear, and sweat. You could leave remnants, just enough to provide a good base to hold new glue – a wire brush would be good here.

The door panels! Each door panel will have some obvious screws (that may or may not have plastic caps on them) and some hidden tricks that will surely frustrate you to no avail. Before going further, please get/borrow a 90° pick and a door upholstery remover tool (both pictured below).

After removing the screws (including the swinging door-shut knocker), make sure the window is rolled down because we’ll be removing the window crank and door handles. They’re spring-loaded and are held in place using a pin/collar arrangement (see photos below). With your door secured (either fully shut or fully opened), press the black plastic collar surrounding each base on the crank/handle far enough to see their ends. Now, there will be a pin going through one side of the base straight through to the other side – it’s tapered so you’ll need to feel around with that 90° pick until you find the correct side and work it out. Repeat until all handles are off their respective nubs. The second, appropriately named, tool should then be used to pry the hidden clips underneath the perimeter of the door panel. Work it like you’re trying to open a pan of caint. Or, a can of paint. Again, taking care to find the clips before prying if you plan on keeping your door panels intact – otherwise, I suppose a screwdriver and brute force will work just fine. The last part is getting rid of the arm pads along the top of the door frame. They’re just glued on so if you remove them, plan on getting new ones because they’ll get a bit chewed up while removing them. When the doors are free of their dressings, you can sit back and survey your accomplishments, recall feelings of uncertainty, and pay homage to the determination that got you here.

The Aforementioned Tools

Spring-Loaded Cranky Handle

Beat-up Door Panel and Clips

The Bonnet, to Boot

Continuing from the ‘Body of Evidence’ post, we had a level of indication that the body is in decent shape, let’s move on…

…The hood (bonnet, if you’re British) was out of alignment and showed signs of damage from a stuck hinge. To reduce further damage, it was just about the first thing that was removed from the car. Not having the luxury of friends around to help, I made my own. I looped a rope over a rafter in the garage above one side of the hood, making a big circuit from rafter around the hood and back - the headlamp arch in the hood itself acted as a nice catch for the rope and prevented it from moving too much. Removing the prop rod assured me that the rope would hold and I proceeded to unbolt the hinge on the roped side first. (Be sure to unbolt them from the hood-side connection rather than the inner-fender-wall side, it may be a little more difficult to loosen the bolts this way, but the hood will be far easier to remove without the hinges dangling about.) After removing the bolts on the other side while supporting the hood with my free hand, it was just a matter of repositioning to get a hold of the entire thing and then sliding it out of its crude cradle. Have an idea of where you are going to put the hood beforehand – it’s more awkward than it is heavy, but preplanning here could save some amount of improvisation and indecision later. Getting the hood out of the way early will really open the engine compartment, allowing unfettered access to inspect and/or repair a lot of them car parts.

And for those of you wondering about that stuck hinge – I soaked it in CRC (similar to WD-40, but way better) overnight and pounded the spit out it with a convincing hammer, only to wind up with an oily, bent, stuck hinge. I was able to find a used one on eBay that worked.

Waaaait a minute: That hinge’s resilience to budge could have easily been blamed on corrosion – and it was, until just now. Writing about it made me think more about it and question, on a virtually rust-free car, how it could have gotten to the point of seizure through oxidation? Moreover, I remembered that some of bolts on the left hinge (driver's side) were loosened to act as a pivot point so the hood could still open and close, but - the hinge was stuck in the OPEN position, cocking the hood upward on the driver's side when closed.  See...

There wasn’t rust in the surrounding area, the hinge was stuck open, there was visible evidence of a half-assed repair; the synapses started firing. Those of you who know how arc welders work (the actual equipment, not the people), know that the business end is just a node that completes an electrical circuit and that the welding machine works by delivering a large amount of current through a spark (or arc), which heats up the metal and the welding material into a molten stew that, when cool, binds everything together in what’s called a weld. The welder is also supplied with a clamp that must be electrically connected to the metal you are welding, acting as a ground in the circuit. Now, here’s my theory: Someone unwittingly welded that hood hinge in the open position. Since the hood doesn’t really have much exposed metal to provide a good electrical path for the clamp, it was probably secured to the frame or other part of the body while doing the repair work (with the hood up). Since the current had to travel through the hinge, which has gaps between moving parts, these gaps caused their own weld sites and, Viola! mystery solved. I’ve heard of this happening with car door hinges, so it’s really less mysterious that you may think.

Back to it: After the hood was off, I looked at the hood. Rather, after the bonnet was off, I looked at the hood. In Britain, the car’s top is referred to as the ‘hood’, the windshield ‘windscreen’, and trunk equals ‘boot’. So, from front to rear, you have the bonnet, windscreen, hood, boot. To avoid confusion and to minimize pompousness, the good ol’ American terms will be used from now on: ‘hood’ shall be forever read to mean ‘engine cover’, the rest I leave up to your interpretation.

Back to it, again: Looking at this raggedy mess that was once a convertible top, I decided that it was next to go. Before getting rid of the top material, I did a survey of the bows: this is the assembly that supports the rag top and does the moving from up to down, down to up. Sitting for such a long time, the joints were a bit arthritic and resisted my attempts to unsettle them. My old friend, CRC, worked in this case because it was just some rusty/dry hinges and connections that needed oiling. And, just like the Wizard of Oz’s Tin Man, I had them joints back to what they once were in no time. Once ‘up’, removing the worn-out vinyl top was pretty straightforward because I knew none of the material was salvageable: rip, cut, pull, tear. There are two strips of material, known as ‘webbing’, that are connected to the top assembly (bows) from front to back. If yours are not in bad shape, try to keep them because they are typically not included when you order a new top (they’re also available new for less than $10 each, so - your choice). Once the bulk of the material was gone, I moved on to the more-delicate task of removing the bow assemblage. First, there was a retainer bar that holds the back of the top material to the car itself – just a matter of peeling back the remnants of the top and unbolting some, well…bolts. The next part of the operation was to unscrew some, well…screws (yes, screws) that hold the bow assembly to the chassis. 42-year-old screws are not a welcomed site. 42-year-old screws tend to strip easily. 42-year-old screws are a pain the ass. Pushing negativity aside, I dove right in with an impact driver and, to my surprise and delight, all six of those retaining screws came right off with little to no coercing. The bane of the 42-year-old screws would really only present itself once, later. Finding a nice, quiet corner of the garage, I set the bows and associated hardware down to be forgotten until this Phoenix of a car rises from the ashes in a Triumph-ant display of fortitude, beauty, and dollar signs.

A word to the wise, or at least to those listening, they say that experience is what you get by not having it when you needed it. With this in mind, rather than tearing into the car like so many flying monkeys on a scarecrow (I hope this is the last Oz reference), take your time to look at parts that can be repaired/restored. Although many new parts are available for these old cars, some are relatively expensive ($1100 for a quarter panel??) and some are just plain unavailable, as described below.

Next up: the windshield and frame. The windshield glass on my particular ’67 TR4A was in very nice shape - the glazing (the black gasket that holds the glass in place) wasn’t. The once-pliable glazing gasket had better days, I imagine. It was dry and cracked with remnants of yellowed glue here and there and some sort of sealer (caulk) smeared in where chunks had gone missing. What appeared to be a valiant effort by a previous owner decades ago was now a disheveled mess, undermined by California sunlight, dry weather conditions, and ultimately, time. Lucky for us, new retaining gaskets are available and are less expensive and easier to replace than most people think. Removing the glass is a matter of running a utility knife around the perimeter of the glass, about midway on the gasket (ideally, right at the edge of the glass), cutting into the glazing as you go (#2 in the diagram below). It will take a little bit of work, but once the glass is free, the gasket should separate from the frame with ease. Putting it all back together will be another topic at another time. We’re getting to the ‘unavailable parts’ mentioned earlier so hold on. Now that the frame is free of the glass, we can start removing it. Triumph's original idea was to make the windshield frame a removable piece so that you could legally drive your TR4 to the race track, take off your windshield to get some laps in, and drive back home with your windshield re-attached. Oh, the ‘60s. I cannot claim to remember them on account I wasn’t born yet, but from what I’ve heard, this windshield scenario fits right in. Adding on to its design, removal of the windshield frame is necessary if you’re planning on replacing your dash pad and is a good way to make some room for doing just about any type of work in that general area. Aside from the three chromed bolts visible on the inside lower edge (#7 in the diagram below), there are brackets just under the dash on each side above the kick panels in line with the angle of the windshield (unnumbered). The windshield post is threaded and is secured to these brackets two ways: a nut on the end of the post (#21) and a retaining bolt that clamps down on the post (#17). Once all the nuts and bolts have been removed, a swift rap on the end of each post along with working the frame back and forth will dislodge it from the bracket and break any hold the #5 gasket has left in it. The brackets are bolted to the body and can remain there if the remaining bolts are left unmolested.

Now. The windshield frame has a thin plastic trim around it on the interior side that almost looks like a thick paint, but it's plastic (not pictured). I assumed that this finishing trim would be something relatively simple to find and would have probably just been included with an interior kit. Nope. Can't find it. This may come as a disappointment after the literal build up on parts availability, but it serves as reminder every time I think of it to take my own advice and look before you leap, know what parts you can scrap and which ones to be careful with. I have no doubt there will be more stories, but let's get back to business.

The trunk lid removal was uneventful and, aside from closing out this post, there’s not too much to talk about. The design is a little curious, in that there’s a tubular support thingy in there making you wonder about the original blueprints and what must have transpired to endorse this afterthought. Oh, and I like the ratcheting stay rod, which should be disconnected prior to undoing the nuts on the backside of the trunk hinges, thereby detaching your trunk lid completely.

Here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure while I come up with my next topic (taken on 3/17/09):

A Diversion

In an effort to keep these postings interesting, some blogs will stray from the task at hand and offer some level of general insight into the automotive field. Refraining from ‘Science Content’ warnings or Nerd Alerts, I will try to present technically-riddled subjects in contextual format with my own brand of whimsical nonsense. I don’t think the physics behind air/fuel mixture vortices would provide much value unless reflecting upon a certain Honda’s ancestral roots and the Compound Vortex Controlled Combustion (CVCC) engine that it sported. But, I digress with purpose.

You’ve heard of the Honda Civic and you’ve also heard terms like V8, Straight Six, Cubic Inches, Liters, 4-Stroke/2-Stroke, etc. when referring to automotive engines. Aside from sounding neato, these are all useful in determining what you’ve got under the hood (bonnet, if you’re British).

V8 refers to two things: 8 cylinders in a V formation – that is 2 rows of 4 cylinders set at an angle to each other (a V6 has two rows of 3 cylinders and so forth). Straight/Inline is an arrangement of 1 row with all cylinders lined up: I8, I6, I5, I4. Since the ‘70s, American manufacturers wandered from the standard straight six to pursue V6s and never looked back. The choice was made for economical reasons, rather than performance reasons and many auto makers have followed. I6s are still out there, though - BMW has built quite a reputation on theirs (the “i” following most of their model numbers means inline). Engine configurations are not limited to Vs and Is - there are many more including (but no limited to) Slant, Flat, Opposed, W, and H, but I’ll let The Internet answer your questions on those. All of these types of engines have their benefits and drawbacks and are very useful in certain applications.

Intermission: The Parts of an Engine
Depicted below is an exploded view of an Inline 4, similar to the TR4A’s engine. The cylinders are merely guides for the pistons to move up and down in. The pistons go through strokes to achieve power:
1. Intake Stroke: Down, sucking air/fuel mixture in.
2. Compression Stroke: Up, creating compression – the spark plug causes detonation at the top.
3. Combustion/Power Stroke: Down, pushed from the ignition/explosion.
4. Exhaust Stroke: Up, pushing out spent gasses; and back to 1.
Each piston is connected to the crankshaft, which translates the up-and-down to rotation. The crankshaft is also connected to the camshaft, which controls the timing of intake and exhaust valves. This is all shown in the second graphic, which I obtained from howstuffworks.com.



Engine displacement is measured in cubic inches (CI) or liters (L) and represents the volume of all cylinders added up - it’s a measure of the amount of total space available for internal combustions or, simply, how much explosive force can be transformed into motion. Forgetting about many other aspects that factor into torque and horsepower, the size of an engine is the most basic gauge to how ballsy it is. By numbers alone, it seems logical that a Chevy 350 (that’s 350 CI) would be more powerful than Toyota 2.0L, but what about a Buick 215 versus a Ford 5.0L? A 1-liter engine would equate to about 61 cubic inches and each 100 CI equals roughly 1.639L, so you’d need to level the playing field for comparisons. Also, ad men get into the mix sometimes and screw up the math: the Ford 5.0L is closer to a 4.9L since it’s just a re-badged 302, but 5.0 sounds so much better than 4.9. A more-precise habit of manufacturers and automotive enthusiasts is to use the cubic centimeter (cc) to refer to an engine’s volume: 1L = 1000cc’s. This curious method is what Triumph used, so I will talk about the TR4A’s engine as a 2138 cc instead of a 2.1L or a 130 CI.

Strokes were brought up earlier and they will be the last item of discussion for this journal entry. If you notice, the verbiage describes four diff’rent strokes. What I’m talking about, Willis, is a 4-stroke engine. The neat and orderly separation between these strokes is good for emissions, but not so good for power. Thinking more about this, a complete cycle requires the crankshaft to rotate two times - during which, there is only one power stroke per cylinder. The four-cylinder engine pictured above would have four explosions for every two revolutions of the crankshaft so you’re getting two explosions per revolution. Now, here’s the interesting part: a 2.5L Inline 4 produces as much power, per cylinder as a 5.0L V8. Since only one cylinder fires at a time and individual cylinders are the same size for both engines – the V8 just has more cylinders, which means more explosions per revolution and, therefore, more total power. The 2-stroke engine is similar to this comparison because there are only two strokes per cycle rather than four - so, you’re getting more explosions per cylinder per revolution - all cylinders have their power stroke every revolution of the crankshaft. Taking it all in, a 2-stroke, 4-cylinder would potentially match the total power of a 4-stroke V8 twice its size. But, because of the nature of mixing exhaust with fresh air/fuel and the need for oil to be mixed in with the fuel, 2-stroke engines are dirtier and produce more harmful emissions than comparable 4-strokes. A visual aid for this comparison:

Body of Evidence

After the initial test drive and photo shoot circa March 8th, 2009, the car was quarantined to the garage to begin the restoration process: Take it apart, Fix it, Put it back together – simple enough, right? (Insert your own foreshadowing now.) Where to begin?

Before taking the car apart, you need to decide what kind of car you want: Show Car? Everyday Driver? V8 Conversion? I wanted something that would look nice with some modern convenience; I wanted to be able to drive the car AND be able to make some money if I decided to sell it. So (drum roll, please)…this will be a mostly stock, original-ish frame-off restoration. So let’s get started.

Assessing the condition of my new toy car:

This particular 1967 TR4A IRS spent most (if not all) of its life in the high desert of Southern California. It was, therefore, in pretty good condition rust-wise – it was not, however, in as great condition when it came to the interior, paint, seals, gaskets, top, seats, dashboard, etc. since it basically sat in a shed for 14 years. The engine had some new parts and came with the possibly spurious promise that ‘the previous owner rebuilt it’. It didn’t smoke, knock, ping, or otherwise sound bad so I took it at face value, knowing most of the motor needed to be taken apart anyway to replace leaky seals/gaskets – but we’ll get more into that later. It had 71,577 original miles and, based on the condition, I didn’t (and still don’t) doubt it. Right now, I’ll focus on the body and get to other parts in subsequent posts.

A visual inspection only revealed one small rust hole in the bottom of the right front fender that carried through to the rocker panel. Seriously? Just one, small bit of rust? Tapping around and feeling behind panels was just as promising. How much rust and filler was hiding under paint or otherwise not seen?

Tip #1: A little magnet will uncover more about a car’s history than anything else. Since a magnet will not stick (or at least not stick as well) to filler/Bondo, it’s a great tool to check the condition of your body panels. You can easily roll one of those little, round magnets around wheel wells, across rocker panels, or in any other suspicious-looking areas on the vehicle. And, since it rolls, you won’t leave scratches on the paint (good for not angering owners when you’re checking out a car for purchase).

The magnet revealed some filler in the hood (bonnet, if you’re British) and around the right front wheel well, both of which were attributable to dent/ding/repairs rather than rust.

All in all, the total body damage assessed was:
- Right Front Fender/Rocker Rust
- Right Front Fender Body Filler (assumably from a dent)
- Hood Damage/Repair/Filler from Weld Fracture (due to frozen hood hinge)
- Surface Rust and Filler on Hood around Headlamp Arches
- Floor Dents from Misplacement of Jack
- Slight Trunk (Boot, if you’re British) and Rear Valance Damage (presumably from a minor rear end collision)
- Surface Rust in Trunk
- Various Dents and Dings

The consensus for the body: I couldn’t believe it was a ‘67. 42 years old with only about 4 square inches of rust? I hated to admit it, but this car’s body was in better shape than mine. This theme continued as I disassembled the car.

These pictures, taken on March 31st, show the condition of the body. It had been repainted a few times and much of the poor-quality black paint was peeling away under the hood and in the trunk.

Lonely Rust on F/R Fender

(Black is Primer)

Solid L/F Fender

Filler on R/F Wheel Arch

Damage & Shoddy Repair on Hood

Solid, Denty Floorboard

Rear Trunk/Valence Damage

Slight Surface Rust in Trunk Floor (and bad paint job)

Just a Shot Showing Alignment of Left Door/Fender

That Ain't No Bronco

Those who know me, know that I've been in the market for an Early Bronco (1966 - 1977) to restore and have fun with for a while now.  I almost had my mind made up when a question of logistics was curiously raised while looking at my garage space.  My 1940's-era 1 1/2 car garage was not going to accommodate 36-inch tires and a 5-inch body lift on an already-rather-tall truck.  Oh crap.

With the desire to get my hands dirty, I started looking at Camaros, GTOs, Chevy IIs, and other muscle cars.  Knowing full well that my budget would not go very far, the results were ominous.  With prices for a rusted-out heap sans drivetrain averaging $10k, I was going to need another plan: foreigns.  

Porsche?  Yeah, right.  

Datsun?  Not cool.  

VW?  Not interested.  

Sunbeam?  More expensive than I thought.  

MG?  Perhaps.  

Triumph?  Possibly.

Looking on eBay, my mind was made up.  The old Triumph TRs were still relatively inexpensive and, doing more research, replacement parts were available and reasonable.  I looked at a few TR6s, but the TR4s really caught my eye.  What's more, there was one for sale about an hour away that claimed to be rust-free.  All signs were good.

Since I purchased my 1967 TR4A IRS, I have a new-found respect for these old British cars.  Being borne from wartime surplus parts and, eventually, finding a niche in sportscar racing, the TR's evolution is an interesting course.  But more on that in a later post.

Courtesy of http://www.vtr.org/models.shtml, the TR Line: 

TR2 (1952-55)

TR3/3A/3B (1955-62)

TR4 (1961-65)

TR4A (1965-67)

TR5/250 (1967-68)

TR6 (1969-76)

TR7 (1975-81)

TR8 (1978-81)

First Post

This blog is set up to provide tips and experience during a frame-off restoration of a 1967 Triumph TR4A Independent Rear Suspension (IRS).

The car, which I found in the high desert of Southern California, was a barn find that the previous owner had his eye on since 1996. I was told that the engine was rebuilt prior to being put in storage...we'll see about that.

After he bought the car in 2006, he did some work to it:
- Thorough cleaning
- Re-powder coated the rims
- New tires
- New Weber DCOE-9 carbs
- New TWN intake manifold
- New Kirk racing exhaust header
- Rebuilt master cylinder

- Changed fluids

- New belt/hoses

- New fuel pump

- New points

I found the car on eBay, it was listed because the current owner had purchased a more complete '67 that had overdrive. After a short trip out to the desert, I verified that it was, truly a rust-free survivor and the story begins.

The pictures below chronicle the condition the car was in when I received the title (with 71,577 original miles) and trailored it home on 3/8/09. It started, drove, and stopped OK, albeit not in trustworthy condition for highway driving.