Over the last couple days, I've been prepping the rear spindles I got from Victor and Diane in Florida. I removed the dust shields and old bushings (which was much harder than I thought it would be). I also cleaned off all the old grime so they could be painted. The hubs needed to be changed since they are the wrong size for the wheels I got, and I figured I'd replaced the bearings while I'm at it since they could have a lot of miles on them. The hubs and bearings are supposed to be pressed out, but I thought I could probably do it with a mallet. I was wrong and the bruise I have on my finger from hitting it with the hammer is proof. This is what they looked like after I did what I could.
The rusty parts are what needs to be removed. I found an automotive machine shop about 20 minutes away and called them to see if they had a large hydraulic press. Fortunately, they did. I spoke with the owner, George, and he said to come right over. I wasn't sure what to expect since he said it was a one-man operation.
When I got there, I found a house with a 1 1/2 car garage. That was George's shop. As promised, he was in there by himself, seemingly not doing any work. His first question was how I found him because he mostly works with other mechanics (using the internet, of course). He told me how he has mechanics who contact him from all over to send him work. Anyway, I described what I wanted done and we went over to his press. He set up the first unit and started applying pressure. And then more pressure. And more. Finally up to about 6000 pounds. Nothing moved. So then he started hitting it with a hammer and the pressure spiked up to 8000 pounds. Still nothing. Before something broke, we decided to try the other unit. Same process and it looked like the same result. I started thinking that my great $60 deal on these things wouldn't be a great deal if I couldn't get them apart. Then suddenly -- BANG -- the hub released and all the pressure shot through the unit at once. It was like a crack of thunder and I hadn't thought to bring an extra pair of pants. But it was out. Now we knew it was possible to get these things apart so we went back to the first unit. Again, George cranked up the pressure and started whacking it with the hammer. Pretty soon, BANG again, and the second one was apart. Now he had to press out the bearings. We both hoped this would be easier, but as he turned up the pressure even higher than before, nothing happened. This time, he decided to heat the exterior ring so it would expand and hopefully allow the bearing to release. Alternatively, the whole unit might crack and then would be worthless. He's heating and heating. Will it work or will it be ruined? BANG, and out comes the bearing. George follows the same process with the other unit and is successful. Having access to people with years of experience is so valuable. I'm sure George will be a good contact to have.
Here's what they look like after I got the parts back home. the silver parts will go to the painter tomorrow. The other parts will be replaced with new pieces.
With everything done, I started talking to George as he meticulously cleaned his tools and returned them to their homes. He'd run this small shop out of his garage for nearly 20 years, but over the last couple years, he's had less and less work. Partly, it's the economy and partly, it's the effects of automotive evolution. People just don't have their engines rebuilt any more. They get another car. When you think about it, cars have become a massive disposable item. George knows this, but he's too set in his ways to do anything else. He can no longer compete with large, automated shops in lower cost regions. So he sits there most days, hoping the phone will ring. His shop is called G&L so I asked him what the "L" stands for. "Lovely Linda" he said. She passed away four years ago.
I asked George how much I owed him, not knowing what to expect since the whole project took well over an hour. He asked me if I was coming back, but I wasn't sure whether he meant to visit or to bring more work. It didn't really matter because I just said, "yes". $45 he said. I shook his hand, paid him and closed the door behind me leaving George just as I had found him.
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