Supercharging has interesting roots (pun intended) in the automotive world. The idea of pressure-feeding air into an engine for a car is only a few years younger than the automobile itself. The first production examples were available on Mercedes models in 1922, and it has only become more popular since. As with many examples of technology, there were some interesting attempts at supercharging that didn’t last and ended up on the side of the long road that is automotive history. One such example is the Latham axial flow supercharger.

Supercharging an engine relies on the crankshaft to drive on a compressor that forces air into the intake, effectively increasing the volumetric efficiency of the engine by cramming more air into the cylinders than it would pull in on its own during the vacuum created by the intake stroke. The most common forms of superchargers are centrifugal, roots, screw, and scroll. Before the market settled on the common types we’re familiar with today, there were several efforts to create the next best thing. Norman Latham of West Palm Beach, Florida, hoped his new product would be a must-have performance bolt-on.

Latham’s idea was to create an axial supercharger. This is essentially a turbine, where the supercharger housing contains “fans” that can create positive manifold pressure. Latham’s design went into production in 1956 and was sold until 1965. It was radically different than a roots or centrifugal supercharger, yet also combined a few of the better parts of each. A centrifugal supercharger was a bear to tune 70 years ago because carburetors were still the most popular way of mixing the air and fuel entering an engine.

Carburetors rely on the incoming air to pull in the fuel into the airstream from the float bowl. If the throat of the carburetor is under pressure rather than vacuum, that fuel draw doesn’t work very well. This made centrifugal superchargers finicky. Roots-style blowers could more effectively be set up to draw air through carburetors, but the size and location made packaging tough. Latham used the long and low design of the axial supercharger to put the blower low and further forward with the carbs off to the side, keeping a lower profile. The air and fuel are drawn in through two or four carbs, depending on the model, before being compressed through the turbine and then fed into the intake manifold.

The problem is that axial compressors tend to be less efficient than the more popular styles of supercharging. Their peak efficiency orrurs during a very narrow window and prefer steady-state running at that speed rather than changing RPM quickly like most automotive engines tend to do. It was a solution, but we know now that it was not the best solution.

The design still caught people’s attention though. After an eight-page spread in the June 1956 issue of Hot Rod things seemed to take off. Over 600 Latham superchargers were built and are now highly sought after. The company was sold in 1982 and transitioned to producing a modern interpretation of the axial design. The vintage units stand as an interesting reminder of the times when its innovation was almost as rapid as the cars it was going into.

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Mazda hasn’t offered a car powered by a rotary engine since the last RX-8 ended production in 2012. The rotary engine’s impact on enthusiasts is so great that many still clamor for the chance to own another if one ever comes to fruition. Mazda’s latest news on the subject, from a joint press event with Toyota and Subaru, revealed that a sports car is under consideration. Still, it’s probably not the RX-7 successor we’ve been wishing for.

The two-rotor engine, placed perpendicularly between two sports car tires on the stage during Mazda’s rotary presentation, was not subtle. It pointed to a longitudinal, front-engine car as opposed to the transverse application currently in production in the MX-30 hybrid. It wasn’t just a hint: Mazda admitted that a sports car application was a possibility. Then, when asked directly by CarScoops, a Mazda spokesperson gave this nebulous answer, “There are various issues that need to be addressed, including emissions compliance, before it can be marketed. We believe that the first priority is to clear the technical hurdles. Once that is done, various things will become a reality.”

Ah, yes, “various things.” That’s settles it. While there’s not much to go on, we’re still happy about the possibility of a rotary-powered sports car becoming a reality. That reality might not be ideal, however.

Rotary engines offer plenty of benefits that make them a great choice for a sports car: they’re light, compact, and use fewer moving parts than a comparable piston engine. Because they don’t have reciprocating parts, they can more easily rev high and churn out a lot of power for their size. Sounds great, right? Unfortunately, there are also a lot of downsides to the basic rotary design: they typically offer poor fuel economy, their emissions tend to be high, their apex seals take a tremendous beating, and they’re difficult to cool. As promised earlier this year, Mazda has a 36-engineer team dedicated to rotary engine development to combat those deficits.

One way that Mazda has been chipping away at emissions and fuel efficiency has been by eliminating direct human control of their operation. With the rotary engine decoupled from the driver, it can act as a generator for a hybrid powertrain and operate only under the most efficient conditions. That is a great use for a power-dense engine, but it doesn’t scratch the itch in a sports car like it did in the RX-7. Take a look around—nobody is planning a letter-writing campaign to get BMW to bring back the i8.

Mazda has been the only automaker dedicated to rotary engines, and perhaps it’s found the right niche for them as compact generators for hybrids. The performance metrics and the technology might be impressive in a hybrid sports car application, and we’d be glad to see something with the Iconic SP’s lines make it to production. But will Mazda still be able to cash in on the nostalgia if the driver isn’t the one in command of the potent rotary engine?

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If you’re a fan of high-powered street cars or Pro Mod drag racing, then you’ve probably heard of Steve Morris Engines. If not, you might be surprised at the kind of horsepower that Morris and his team can coax out of a boosted big-block Chevy while still making it reliable for thousands of miles on the road. His latest YouTube video takes a look back at some of the channel’s dyno tests, and it’s interesting to see the power levels grow from 1500-hp centrifugal-supercharged 540s to 3000-hp twin-turbo Pro Mod setups and beyond. What’s even more fascinating is seeing that kind of power level making its way to street-driven cars that compete in drag-and-drive events across the country.

One of our favorite engines is the 3000-hp SMX V-8 Morris built for Tom Bailey for Drag Week. Morris designed and machined a billet block with water jackets to provide cooling on the 1000-mile street drive portion of the five-day event. It debuted in 2016 and had teething issues, but it powered Bailey to overall wins in the event in 2018 and 2019, where Bailey was also the first driver in Drag Week history to run a 5-second elapsed time. Morris shows an early version of the engine and then revisits it to explain its three-injectors-per-cylinder fuel system.

Morris also developed the V-16 for the Devel 16 hypercar. The car project might be dead in the water, but the quad-turbo V-16, which Morris developed based on Chevy LS architecture, was the real deal. You can see it in action churning out just over 5000 hp.

Although there are lots of little bits of engine info to pull from this compilation video, it’s mostly just a showcase of brutally powerful engines doing their thing on the dyno. If you’re a fan of high-horsepower V-8s—and one very impressive Lamborghini V-10—you’re going to enjoy it. Be warned, though, you may have the urge to throw some turbos on your project car when you see the flat torque curves and ridiculous power output from these Morris engines.

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Thanks to recent news from Aston Martin and Ferrari, the V-12 engine layout thankfully remains in production and continues to find a home in new vehicles. It’s great news, and easily put into words. Less easily described, though, is the sound of a V-12 engine—you truly need to hear one to appreciate their symphony.

Those sonorous notes, along with the silky smooth power delivery that comes with them have graced the automotive landscape for decades. In celebration of the V-12’s continued presence, we took a look back into the V-12 engine’s storied history across multiple brands to pick some of our favorites.

Packard Twelve

The Packard Twelve started life as the Packard “Twin Six,” but the second generation of Packard V-12 (1933-39) and was known for a body design worthy of a V-12 engine. Packard’s iconic grille was paired with some of the most famous coachbuilders of the era, including LeBaron and Dietrich. The Packard Twelve was indeed the flagship of Packard line, with the Super Eight, Eight, and “Junior” models like the One-Twenty, Six, and One-Ten slotting below. They were fine models with perfectly acceptable engines, but the Twelve was the one that stood out.

2008 Audi Q7 V-12 TDI

You weren’t ready for this one, were you? But it’s true, as the Volkswagen Group made a V-12 engine for the flagship Q7 utility vehicle. This was before Dieselgate came to fruition, so this turbocharged, direct injected, V-12 diesel had the potential for success.

Audi’s oil burning V-12 was used on this single vehicle from 2008-12, sporting 493 horsepower and a whopping 738 lb-ft of turbodiesel torque. While this particular Q7 never made it to the U.S., it would absolutely be one of the most amazing diesel vehicles in America, when they are legal to import in 2033, that is.

Jaguar V-12

While an inline-six rests beneath the bonnet of many iconic Jaguars, it was only natural for larger, later model Jags to utilize the relaxed cadence of its V-12 motor in 5.3- or 6.0-liter displacements. Luxury cars were getting bigger and bolder, and doubling the cylinder count certainly helped with that transition.

Jag even developed a 7.0-liter example used in motorsport, but Jaguar’s V-12 was primarily notable as a top-tier luxury car powerplant during the Malaise Era, thanks to the addition of fuel injection and a High Efficiency (HE) combustion design in 1981. This smooth, relaxed engine was the perfect dance partner to a cabin fitted with decadent leather and burl wood, and its demise in 1997 was the end of an era for British motoring.

Lincoln-Zephyr V-12

Like so many other components found in Lincoln vehicles, the flathead V-12 found in 1932 model Lincolns and Zephyrs was heavily based on parent company Ford’s flathead V-8. The motor wasn’t without its flaws however, mostly present in its PCV, oiling and cooling systems. Those issues were addressed over time, however, and Lincoln’s V-12 ultimately became part of the brand’s success: Take something from Ford, modify the heck out of it, and turn it into something worthy of a luxury vehicle.

Ferrari Colombo V-12

Named after its creator, Gioacchino Colombo, this Ferrari V-12 powered some of the most famous, desirable and valuable vehicles to wear Ferrari’s prancing horse emblem. The sheer volume of changes this motor underwent over the course of its 41-year production run is impossible to cover for this list.

No matter, though: Every iteration of this all-aluminum masterpiece delivered the feel and sound of exotic performance befitting a Ferrari, from its placement in the original 1947 Ferrari 125 S, to icons like the 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO, and delightful touring cars like the final Ferrari 412i from 1988.

BMW M70

While BMW’s flagship V-12 came in four variations over the course of several decades. Perhaps the most appealing example is the M70 design that powered the E32-generation 7-series and E31 8-series. Be it a BMW 750i or 750iL, you were guaranteed one of the best performing luxury sedans on the planet. And the 850i, 850Ci, and 850CSi were grand touring coupes of the highest order, especially when optioned with a six-speed manual transmission.

But the real reason why the M70 V-12 from BMW was so special is its legacy with the McLaren F1. Its stunning 618 horsepower helped propel the F1 to an insane top speed of 240.1 mph in 1998, thanks to four-valves per cylinder, variable valve timing, and a surprising lack of forced induction. Ah, if only modern hypercars could take a page from BMW’s M70 masterpiece and ditch the turbochargers!

Cadillac V-12

Here’s an awkward twist to the overall theme of this story: While most auto manufacturers had a V-12 as their flagship, top-of-the-line, first class powerplant, this doesn’t apply to Cadillac. Their V-12 was actually one of their V-16 engines with four cylinders lopped off.

The V-12 Caddy was made from 1930-37, and “only” made 135 horsepower relative to the V-16’s rating of 165. While both were premium offerings with features like overhead valves and hidden wiring/plumbing, this V-12 rightly plays second fiddle to the Cadillac V-16.

Toyota GZ

While Japan is better known for engines with fewer pistons, the Toyota Century and its V-12 engine are the crown jewels for an entire nation. Toyota had premium-car intentions for decades, but no other brand in Japan had the nerve to equip a vehicle with a V-12 engine. Toyota did just that for their flagship Century luxury sedan in 1997. In doing so, the V-12 (codenamed 1GZ-FE) soldiered on for another 20 years, ensuring Toyota’s place in luxury car history.

Lamborghini V-12

Ferrari was slow to full embrace dual overhead camshafts for their V-12, but Lamborghini (as was their wont) chose a different path, going all in on the four-camshaft phenomenon with the V-12 in their first car, the 350 GT. The same engine family powered Lambos for decades, including the Miura and Countach, and ending its reign with the 2010 Murciélago. While modern Lambos under the watchful eye of Audi are clearly better performers with modern V-12 engines, their improvements only serve to enhance the original’s mystique. And perhaps it proves that all supercars need twelve cylinder engines, otherwise perhaps they aren’t actually that super at all?

Mercedes M275

While there are four generations of Mercedes-Benz V-12 opulence, the M275 was both twin turbocharged and impressive enough to remain in production for the latest Pagani hypercars. That’s right, even the new Pagani Utopia uses an M275 (technically an M158 derivation) to achieve forward thrust with 754 horsepower, with a manual transmission to boot.

But the M275 V-12’s zenith doesn’t necessarily point solely to the crème de la crème Pagani—there were too many fantastic automobiles that utilized this engine. The list includes Maybach luxury sedans, S/SL/CL “600” class luxury cars and their AMG tuned “65” series counterparts, the radical SL65 AMG Black Series, and even the outlandish Maybach Excelero sports car. Their torque output was legendary and impossible to match, and it’s one of the few engines that can provide EV-like thrust at low speeds with Lamborghini-like top end acceleration.

Perhaps we saved the best for last, as this motor could be considered a gold standard for which all modern luxury cars are judged by. Mercedes has made a replacement for this motor (M279), but it doesn’t do anything to tarnish the twin turbo M275’s performance potential. We can thank Pagani for that, or perhaps we should credit Mercedes for keeping the V-12’s flame alive in more ways than any other automaker possibly could.

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We’ve learned a bit more about the powertrain in the next Bugatti hypercar since our last update, and it seems that turbocharging is no longer in the equation for this exclusive brand. The V-16 in the upcoming Bugatti will be naturally aspirated, offset with a hybrid power pack. The end result chimes in with some impressive numbers: a 9000-rpm redline, three electric motors, and a combined power output that could reach 1800 horsepower.

This amazing engine is claimed to make 1000 horsepower on its own, which is no small feat for a naturally aspirated mill. The news comes directly from Bugatti-Rimac chairman Mate Rimac, announced during the Future of the Car Summit in London (via Motor1). The annual conference features a wide variety of guest speakers from automobile and automobile-adjacent industries, and Rimac’s news was likely a shock to everyone in attendance.

Motor1 also reports that two of the three electric motors are likely to drive the front wheels. This layout is similar to that of the Ferrari SF90. The third motor assists the V-16 at the rear, likely with an eight-speed dual-clutch automatic putting the power down. Motor1 is also reporting that “Bugatti’s engineers are cramming in a 24.8-kWh battery good for 37 miles of electric range.” That could ensure the next Bugatti earns the right to drive in congested parts of Europe with the same freedom as a modern EV.

A congested city isn’t exactly the best place to enjoy an 1800-horsepower Bugatti, but don’t we all need to catch a show and eat at a Michelin-starred restaurant every now and again? The next Bugatti promises the best of all worlds, and it might just provide the naturally aspirated thrills you see and hear in this V-12 McLaren F1 video. Fingers crossed on that.

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Preserving and collecting automobiles has a fascinating side effect: Preserving and collecting all the of the other ephemera that surround our cars. The original sales brochures, shop manuals, and other promotional materials are often a fascinating window into another time. Then there are the promotional items that literally had windows cut into them so we could see the future. One such example was this Red Ram Hemi V-8 cutaway spotted on Facebook Marketplace by Barnfinds.com recently.

The engine is said to be part of promotional material that introduced the public to the idea of the Hemi engine and the combustion chamber shape that gave it that name. The 1950s saw pretty rapid innovation, and lots of manufacturers began to roll out overhead-valve V-8 models into production cars. The Hemi had not yet become the legend we know today, but it seems like someone knew what was on the horizon and kept this piece of memorabilia for the future.

The engine is sliced and diced to show various internal features that are nigh impossible to put eyes on when assembled any other way. Liberal use of a bandsaw aside, this model also has a motor tucked inside, and when the cord hanging out the back is plugged into a 110v wall outlet, a number of lights illuminate the inside and set the crankshaft in motion. The valvetrain cycle through is cool to see from the valve cover side, but to see the actual timing vs piston location is really something.

The seller claims this model is one of three and, per Don Garlits, the only one that is kinetic—the others were just stationary models with other chunks of the engine relieved for sight. That would be something worth researching more before putting in a bid or signing the check for the $22,000 asking price. The seller believes this to be one-of-one but there is evidence of at least one other moving cutaway that was used in a promotional film starring Groucho Marx.

The difficulty of making a clean and functional operating cutaway makes this a really cool bit of kit. That this one has survived over half a century only furthers the wow factor, and the idea that it should be enjoyed well into the future. If your garage or showroom needs something but you just couldn’t find the right thing, this could be it. Also be sure to ask about that cutaway transmission sitting just behind this engine. The seller says he has decided to include it with the sale price—in case you needed any more reason to check your bank account.

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“I think I cross-threaded it.”

The voice on the other end of the phone was sullen. It belonged to a friend who had just emerged from under the hood of his 1999 Chevrolet pickup. As he was putting the #4 spark plug back into the aluminum cylinder head after performing some maintenance, the plug had bit and started threading at a slightly wrong angle.

Nobody wants to deal with damaged threads, but with a little prep and know-how you can save the thread, the part, and your sanity.

Threads are a critical part of the assembly of pieces we call automobiles. The spiral-incline plane that creates a bolt, nut, or threaded hole allows for easy disassembly and generates a strong, durable clamping force. The effectiveness of threads relies on a smooth and well-fitting assembly which means any bit of corrosion or damage can be a big problem.

When—not if—some damaged threads appear on your project, there is a lot going through your head: Everything from horror stories of drills and threaded inserts to tales in which the hero was a wire brush. In the middle of the chart of options is chasing the threads to clean them and remove damage. You might be tempted to reach for your tap and die kit … but that might not be the best idea.

When I dropped by my friend’s driveway for moral support, we pulled the inner fender and got a decent look at the reality of the problem. Luckily, my friend has a good feel for how spark plugs start, and the thread was only barely miffed. However, the idea of getting the plug started correctly and powering through to make it fit again was just not on the table. We needed to chase the threads.

Method #1: Use a Tap

I had an appropriate M14-1.25 tap that would theoretically match the aluminum heads on his engine—a 5.3 LM7—but there is always the chance that whatever tap you have is slightly different than the one that originally cut those threads. Any differences between the two would be settled by force, and in our case the hardened tap would easily bite a chunk out of the aluminum cylinder head to declare victory. We were not interested in that.

Method #2: Buy a Thread Chaser

If you’re looking at that thread chaser and thinking, “Kyle, that looks an awful lot like a tap,” you’re correct. It does, but a couple key features are hiding in plain view that make a chaser different than a tap—and better for this situation. The first is right on the nose: A pilot section, which helps align the tool into the thread bore. Taps lead with a cutting edge in most cases, which means if the tap starts slightly crooked, you’ll have a harder time feeling the misalignment. If you try multiple times, you will start to remove material. Remove enough, and the chance of stripping the thread increases significantly.

Notice that, behind the pilot, the threads do not have the same lead-in as a cutting tap. Again, since a chaser is only meant to restore damaged threads, the design is just less aggressive overall. Using a chaser means less chance of swarf falling into your project, too, and we certainly didn’t want any aluminum in the combustion chamber of my friend’s 5.3. Just to be cautious, we coated the chaser with grease to catch any debris it might loosen.

We got real lucky: The threads got reshaped perfectly and the plug threaded in and tightened up nicely, a reminder that using the right tool always makes a job easier. A good quality set of thread chasers is under $100 and covers a variety of pitches.

This is actually the first thread chaser I’ve purchased. It’s a tool that has always been on the shortlist, but it was never in the cart come checkout time. Any time I need a thread chaser, I usually just make one.

Method #3: Make Your Own

Making a thread chaser is not difficult, and the skill is a nice trick to have up your sleeve. Just take a grade 8 bolt and file down the first few threads to create that pilot and lead-in threads. If you are really motivated, use a hacksaw or small cutoff wheel to create a few reliefs that can collect any debris that will be forced out of the threads as it re-shapes and cleans them.

Next time you are in the middle of that project and miff a set of threads, you are prepared to handle the problem the right way … or at least understand the risks of doing it the other way. Like I said, there is a place and time for each, and having more skills and understanding of what you are doing is always a good thing.

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Steve Morris knows his way around V-8 drag race engines, especially those with forced induction. He’s developed his own engine blocks and heads for the fastest drag-and-drive cars in the world. His company’s big-block-Chevy-based engines can produce more than 3,000 hp and survive events like Hot Rod Drag Week and Sick Week that involve hundreds of miles on the road and a dozen passes down the strip. It’s safe to say he’s spent lots of dyno time developing engines for his customers. In his 25-year career as an engine builder, he’s never seen a mechanical failure as bad as the one he just had. The video he posted to YouTube highlights the carnage.

Steve and his customer, former NBA first-round draft pick and FIBA gold medalist Tom Hammonds, have been working on an LS-based engine to take on the NMCA Xtreme Street class. After his NBA career, Hammonds made a name for himself as an NRHA Pro Stock driver before moving to his current car, a beautiful 1969 Camaro with a Jerry Bickel chassis powered by an 8,000-rpm, 6.0L LS V-8. His car runs more than 150 mph in the eighth mile, which requires a delicate balance due to the class’s small tires.

Morris and Hammonds were at the dyno console testing the nearly 2,000hp engine when a mechanical failure caused its centrifugal supercharger to explode and send bits of cast and billet aluminum flying through the dyno room. A chunk of the centrifugal supercharger flew almost straight forward and blew through the polycarbonate window, heading right between Morris and Hammonds, neither of whom was seriously harmed during the violent event.

We think of aluminum as a light material, but only because of its strength compared to heavier metals. In truth, it’s denser than concrete. Imagine the energy behind those sharp pieces of aluminum shrapnel, and you quickly understand why engine builders clear the room when dyno testing powerful engines to their limit.

The aluminum pierced the drywall, the engine’s fabricated aluminum intake tube, and the dyno’s oil and fuel tanks. Aside from the piece that flew between Morris and Hammonds, other chunks flew straight through the ceiling and the door to the dyno room. It wasn’t just the engine, the dyno machinery itself took a lot of damage.

Morris tried to uncover the cause of the destruction, which seems to have stemmed from the engine shearing the flywheel bolts. The engine, running at full-throttle and suddenly finding itself with no load holding it back, immediately revved to 11,800 rpm. That led to the supercharger, rated to run at a max rpm of 65,000rpm, to exceed 105,000 rpm. It’s no wonder the thing came apart.

The engine teardown showed that the valvetrain remained intact, with the rockers where they’re supposed to be. Unfortunately, there were pieces of supercharger where they definitely weren’t supposed to be, including inside the intake ports and the cylinders. It appears that the block and heads will survive to race another day, but plenty of parts will need to be replaced just to be safe.

We’re sure Morris and his team will have his dyno up and running again shortly, and Hammonds will soon be back with an angry LS V-8 that churns out nearly 2,000 hp. This video reminds us that it’s not easy to run on the bleeding edge of performance and that horsepower can turn ugly when it escapes in sudden and violent ways. Stay safe out there.

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Pardon the prewar pun, but the storied French-German automaker Bugatti just dropped a doozy of a teaser video for its next vehicle, due in June. The star of the 25-second clip is a sixteen-cylinder engine with an achingly beautiful carbon-fiber intake manifold and an exhaust note that will haunt your soul. But unlike the Chiron and the trend-setting Veyron before it, this yet-to-be-named Bugatti forgoes the “W” engine configuration in favor of a traditional “V.”

That sound is sensational, but look a little closer and this V-16 clearly sports four individual throttle bodies. They suggest that this future Bugatti is an apple that doesn’t fall far from the tree, as the engine could should have four turbochargers to feed that intake, like the quad-turbo Veyron. However, what’s really impressive is Bugatti’s hint that this engine will be mated to a hybrid powertrain.

Odds are this electrified setup will be similar to the party tricks found in the Ferrari SF-90, ensuring the next Bugatti can slow-roll on any street in the EU and the UK. But the similarities are likely to end there, as any Bugatti, even a hybrid one, is designed with the most amount of power and performance possible from an OEM.

While the new, V-shaped engine marks a delineation from VW Group’s past insistence on “W” cylinder configurations, the passion present in that video makes it clear the new Bugatti-Rimac joint venture is paying homage to the Veyron and Chiron, icons that made the brand relevant for the 21st century. Bugatti dates back over 100 years, and it’s clear this V-16 hybrid powerplant is the start of something special.

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At one point in history, thermal efficiency was just a kernel of thought brewing in a would-be engineer’s brain. This led to seeking power in the easiest possible way: Making engines with massive displacement. It made sense then, but times have changed and now there are other ways to make engines that produce usable and reliable power, without requiring 800 pounds of cast iron and pistons the size of coffee cans.

The hardest part of this conversation is that there will always be dyed-in-the-wool people who declare there is “no replacement for displacement.” We’ll get to why that may or may not be true, but first let’s talk about why this sentiment exists: The displacement of an engine is essentially the measurement of how much air volume the engine can pump through itself. The easiest way to calculate this is to plug into a formula the engine’s measurements: Bore squared x .7854 x stroke x number of cylinders = cubic inch displacement. Example: A Chevrolet small-block that measures 4″ bore by 3.48″ stroke by 8 cylinders equals 349.8 cubic inches. Most every manufacturer does a little rounding for the sake of cleanliness.

As compression and combustion of the air/fuel mixture is what makes power, the volume of air determines the power potential. More air in means more fuel, which is what holds the potential energy that is converted to kinetic energy when the fuel is burned under compression. There are other factors in the formula though, including rpm and boost, as pointed out by Engineering Explained on YouTube:

While driving, Jason Fenske does the math to calculate the air volume pumped through a hypothetical naturally aspirated engine. This becomes the baseline, and by doubling the rpm ceiling he is able to downsize the engine by half and have the same potential power. Same goes for boost, as adding one additional atmosphere of pressure—14.7 pounds per square inch—allowed the engine size to shrink without needing massive rpm.

This proves there are, in fact, replacements for displacement, but before you leap to the comments section to drag those knuckles across the keyboard in defensive of stone-age technology, let me just agree with you. You’re right. A big, unstressed, slow-churning engine is likely the most durable and easiest-to-produce option. All of these other methods for making power come with trade-offs that are worth discussing. High-rpm and low-displacement often requires a significant amount of additional precision to make the engine live. Same goes for boosted applications.

Is any option always better than another? If only life were that easy. The reality is that there are better engine formulas for different applications. Otherwise, we would all be driving around 28.5-liter four-cylinders. Sounds fun for a bit, but that’s overkill for the average person’s commute.

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Donald Lewis Carriere (1929–2016) was a research engineer with many patents to his credit, and his 40-year tenure at Ford likely involved many vehicles we know and admire. We’ll come to his patent for a unique powertrain with T-shaped layout in a moment, but first a quick bit about the man himself. Any person who comes up with a patentable idea is clearly worth a closer look, especially when that idea that could have made production in an automobile.

Details of Carriere’s life outside of his patents are sparse, but he earned a doctorate from Wayne State University in Detroit and visited his alma mater on a regular basis to discuss not automobile engineering but alcoholism. Those talks became a book, currently out of print, probably because some automotive journalist bought the last copy. To wit, the book is remarkably informative but engineering-grade dry, with no personal anecdotes or color commentary. Yet Carriere’s vigor in fighting alcoholism makes one thing clear: His personality is both analytical and passionate.

Some people say, “I’m ashamed to go to the doctor.” My response to that is, “What the hell is there to be ashamed about when you’re fighting for your life? You’re in a death situation here. Its hardly rational to be ashamed when you’re fighting for your life.”

I suspect Carriere understood that human behavior is often irrational, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his engineering passions were sometimes mistaken for irrationality. How else could he patent an automotive powertrain with an inline engine arranged in a “T” with its transmission, instead of in a straight line?

Perhaps you first heard about Ford’s T-Drive from a blurb in Car and Driver back in the late ’80s. Or maybe you saw it floating around in the early days of auto blogging. But now we have access to Carriere’s 1991 patent submission, thanks to Google Patents. Here we see an inline-eight engine, mounted transversely, and a “gearing mechanism” that forms a “cross-axis configuration” in relation to the engine’s crankshaft. The transmission even has a straight-line output for a rear axle, giving Ford the space-efficient option for an all-wheel-drive system. Or rear-wheel drive exclusively. Or only front-wheel drive. Perhaps Ford was making modular moves before a certain 4.6-liter V-8 got that name?

This powertrain lived beyond the realm of patents and vaporware dreams. Roughly three years before Carriere’s patent filing, Ford stuffed T-Drive prototypes into a pair of Ford T’s: the Tempo and a Fox-body Thunderbird. Judging by their utterly convenient positioning in these photographs, it’s likely that both cars were trotted out for the media to photograph, hoods open, with T-Drive technology exposed for all to see.

That could have been the end of the story, but Ford wisely implemented T-Drive for the ritzy concept car scene. A radical powertain setup is indeed a good reason for a wildly styled concept car aimed at the heartstrings of auto show visitors and media wonks alike.

The 1991 Ford Contour concept’s unique proportioning only hinted at the revolutionary bits under the hood, but it’s okay to hide Carriere’s masterpiece with a body that’s this well surfaced. Radical HID headlights mounted atop a front end cribbed from a Phantom Corsair show how T-Drive allows for a tight, narrow, bullet-nosed enclosure. As we move back, these lines foreshadowed the painfully radical 1996 Ford Taurus. But the sound of a straight-eight engine musta been impressive, possibly justifying the ovoid Taurus SHO’s V-8 engine when it made production.

Perhaps connecting the V-8 SHO to T-Drive’s eight-pot engine is a stretch, but the Contour’s wide-open spaces were certainly a precursor to cab forward design. As Ford design vice president Jack Telnack said, T-Drive “shortens the engine compartment by 4 to 12 inches compared to V-6 and V-8 installations in small to large cars.”

To prove that point, the Contour has a shockingly beautiful, extruded aluminum space frame jointly made by Reynolds Aluminum and Ford’s Advanced Manufacturing teams. That frame has both style and substance, as it hugs the T-Drive’s east/west orientation like no off-the-shelf platform could. Ford states the Contour places “the transmission rearward on the vehicle centerline for improved weight distribution and overall package efficiency,” and the “fore and aft dimensions are just one cylinder wide, improving safety characteristics and providing more interior space.”

Enter the Ford Contour’s alter ego as a people mover, the Mercury Mystique concept, which clearly wasn’t the badge-engineered disappointment that made production just four years later.  This multi-purpose vehicle uses the same aluminum frame and eight-cylinder T-Drive, but Ford insisted that “manufacturing flexibility permits engines of four, five, six or eight cylinders.” This is ideal for a space-efficient MPV body as it allows “the capability of using high-displacement engines without increasing vehicle size.”

Ford clearly worked hard to squeeze the most juice out of T-Drive’s unique value proposition, but the 1990 Mercury Cyclone sedan was a prelude to concept car greatness. There’s very little information about the Cyclone, but its press release does mention there is “sufficient space to package a large eight-cylinder engine.” That’s hard to accomplish in a nose that short, so odds are this was a T-Drive vehicle before the design had a marketable name.

That’s where the T-Drive story could end, as Ford instead greenlighted the impressive and generally well-regarded Duratec line of four- and six-cylinder engines with dual overhead cams and an utterly conventional drivetrain layout. But there’s much more, thanks to a Ford Tempo race car, the 24 Hours of Lemons race series, and David Eckel and Greg O’Brien of Cheesebolt Enterprises.

Your eyes do not deceive you, as these two guys recreated the original Tempo T-Drive from the grainy photo published in Car and Driver all those years ago. Well not exactly, but they also didn’t have Ford levels of budgeting to throw at the project. It gets the point across, though, so I asked Eckel and O’Brien about their inspiration to make this abomination tribute to a forgotten slice of Ford history.

Turns out their Tempo was initially saved from a South Jersey back yard, sunken in the ground and full of wasps. It received a roll cage and raced on the stock 2.3-liter motor and automatic gearbox for two Lemons races, one of which earned them the coveted Index of Effluency award (for making something really dumb into a legitimate race car).

When the original engine finally blew up, other members of their team were mostly sick of racing the Tempo. So Eckel and O’Brien were at a crossroads: Ford had many superior engines that could fit between a Tempo’s strut towers. But the two enterprising racers couldn’t turn back once T-Drive got in their soul. As Eckel put it:

“While riding a ski lift after a multiple hard cider lunch, I had the bright idea to replicate the Tempo T-Drive by lining up two four-cylinder motorcycle engines. I immediately texted Greg from the slopes to get his input. He loved the absurdity, and he didn’t completely reject the mechanical feasibility of such a thing. The next thing we knew, I had two Suzuki Bandit 1200 motorcycles in my driveway.”

O’Brien also added that T-Drive isn’t the best way to power a Ford Tempo with a motorcycle engine, and they knew “exactly how we would do it, and it would not be this way. But we did T-Drive because we can.”

Aside from the inline-eight-cylinder engine layout and those beautiful exhaust headers, very little of their Tempo resembles Carriere’s work at Ford. Perhaps it’s better if Eckel, in a Ford Engineering costume, gives you the details.

If that sounds complex, getting the T-Drive Tempo running is an absolute ordeal. Both Bandit motorcycle clutches are controlled from the cockpit, via levers on handlebars mounted to the Tempo’s steering column. The handlebars also have the starter buttons for the engines, and Eckel says “a Rube Goldbergian push-pull throttle linkage operates eight carbs using five cables, seven springs, and a bell crank made from the Tempo’s HVAC control levers.”

Making T-Drive work on a homebrew 24 Hours of Lemons budget was not without its pitfalls, as Eckel noted: “Every work session ended with an unsolvable problem that somehow had a possible solution by the next session.” Like the motorcycle engines, which were an impulse buy without measuring first, because Eckel “figured a Tempo engine bay was wide enough.”

Getting the engines low enough to see over them was an issue, mostly because they were retaining the Tempo’s manual transmission. The driver’s side Suzuki engine almost rests atop the Tempo’s bell housing! Then there were the challenges of fabricating the exhaust (which isn’t nearly as beautiful as Ford’s concept cars) and making the input shaft/flywheel/clutch/engine work in harmony. As Eckel said, “doing so required precise machining from a non-healthcare professional.”

O’Brien added that the end result was worth it, because “once we sorted it all out, the T-Drive system was surprisingly robust. We had way more problems with the engines being tired, as one has 45,000 miles and the other had 100,000.” That’s an important item to consider when participating in an endurance race, as O’Brien says T-Drive can “accelerate briskly” with a fully independent suspension that makes for a “decent handling car for what it is.” Indeed, the little white Tempo passed faster cars in the straights, and lit up the inside front tire when exiting corners. Having spent some time inside this vehicle myself, I believe O’Brien does a great job explaining how T-Drive feels when behind the wheel:

“It’s overstimulating. High-pitched noises. Bangs. General vibration is always there, but at constantly changing frequencies. Everything is rigidly mounted, unbalanced, and spinning faster than ‘engineering theoretical max rpm’. We were scared to death of it in early 2023, but now it’s just a fun novelty car. I’m not sure it’s a good thing that this is now normal for us.”

Since these two know more about implementing T-Drive than anyone outside of Donald Carriere’s circle of influence, I asked if T-Drive should have made production. Eckel was adamantly against it, “No. I like Fords: T-Drive would have bankrupted them with warranty claims.” O’Brien was a bit more optimistic, saying “Not under Ford. They were out of their element with this design. I doubt the Ford customer base would have been willing to pay a premium for T-Drive. It could have been an interesting challenge to Saab, Volvo, etc., or maybe it could be the second act that Merkur so desperately needed?”

I asked how their friends and family feel about a T-Drive Ford Tempo race car. Phrases like “universal incredulity” and “genuine concern for our mental health” came from the racing duo.

Eckel’s son is a mechanical engineering student at Northeastern University, and his classmates assured him his father’s mad scientist plan could never work. Claiming victory over an imminent defeat is one thing, but O’Brien correctly states that the Tempo is “such a car-geek inside joke that not many people get it.”

“It managed to outlast nearly half the field, and it actually worked. The whole crazy idea worked.” — Eric Rood, The 24 Hours of Lemons

Now that the T-Drive Tempo finished a Lemons race and earned its second Index of Effluency award, O’Brien says that people still think it’s insane but “it’s now accompanied by a mischievous grin, not a furrowed brow.” I think their flair for presentation (see the video above at the 14:28 mark) doesn’t hurt their chances at acceptance, either.

David Eckel and Greg O’Brien aren’t done yet, as their Tempo’s durability and Ford’s intentions to make T-Drive in front-, rear-, or all-wheel-drive configurations have them pondering the next version: T-Drive 2.0.

Anyone remember the all-wheel-drive Tempo? You never know where such a Ford Tempo might take us in the future, but it’s a safe bet that Donald Carriere and any other Ford employee who worked on the T-Drive program would be blown away by these two Tempo fans. And for that, I thank them immensely for their contribution to an otherwise forgotten moment in automotive history.

***

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James writes:

Sajeev, the quintessential Ford dude! My wife has a 2018 Ford Explorer Limited with 52,000 miles. It’s been good so far. I’ve heard horror stories about the N/A  3.5 V-6 having catastrophic water pump leak/failure issues. A few questions:

1. Is it buried down in the “V”?
2. Are there warning signs?
3. Will this happen?
4. Should we sell before this happens?
5. When will it happen?

Sajeev answers:

This is a fantastic question with ramifications as deep as the location of the water pumps in these 3.5-liter Cyclone V-6 engines. The economic differences between an OEM’s production costs and the individual owner’s service expenses are somewhat fascinating.

But before I go into a huge nerd hole trying to convince you of that, let’s quickly answer James’ questions.

1. You bet! Ford put the water pump inside the timing cover, spinning it via the timing chain on front-wheel-drive vehicles.
   • Yes, it’s quite expensive to repair ($2000 or more), unless you can do things like dropping a vehicle’s front subframe in your own garage.
   • This applies to both naturally aspirated and EcoBoost 3.5-liter applications.
   • This doesn’t apply to the Mustang or F-150, as these have externally mounted water pumps like traditional American engines.
2. You are supposed to see a leak near the alternator, and it’s usually not too late if you keep an eagle eye on that area.
3. All water pumps fail eventually, but regular coolant services as per owner’s manual will extend the lifetime significantly.
4. People kick the can down the road for many reasons, and this is a darn good one. Just be straight up with the next owner, or trade it in and make it the dealership’s problem. (They lowball used cars for good reason!)
5. Given your mileage, if you flush the cooling system immediately and keep an eye on that alternator leak hole (technical term) you aren’t likely to have the problem for well over 100,000 miles.
   • The informative YouTube video below also mentions doing an oil analysis, if you really want to be ahead of the game. While I pinned it to the most enlightening part, watch the whole thing for more details.

And this is where we go deeper, considering the customer’s tolerance for repair bills years after the warranty expires. Who out there actually wants to service their coolant regularly, much less spring for an oil analysis on waste motor oil?

There’s a better way to force coolant services: by using a replaceable timing belt instead of a timing chain. That’s what countless belt-driven imports from the last 40+ years relied on, and it’s contributed greatly to their reputation for durability over American brands that avoid timing belts. Put another way, neglect a “not mandatory” coolant service in a 1990 Essex Continental and you quickly blow the gaskets between its aluminum heads and iron block. Bad news, but neglecting coolant in a 1990 Lexus LS400 has zero downsides because a blown timing belt ensures regular coolant servicing. I’m not suggesting the Lexus LS wasn’t a tour de force in luxury car quality, just that the delta between them and others doesn’t reflect its need for mandatory servicing.

It’s as if Ford gets timing systems and internal water pumps wrong far too frequently. Like back in 1981, when the Ford Escort “World Car” utilized Ford of Europe’s CVH engine. It, like the Pinto before it, had a timing belt. Unlike the Pinto, it was an interference engine. Ford’s American clientele clearly didn’t learn from blowing belts on Pintos, forcing the automaker to make broken-timing-belt-friendly pistons by 1983. The clarion call likely went like this:

“I’m not gonna service my Ford like some Yuppie European Weenie, you can’t make me, and your dealerships better be nice to me when I break something!”

But the 3.5-liter mill is nothing like yesteryear’s Escorts, because adding timing chains to an internal water pump makes it bit more durable. But it comes at major expense for the poor sap who owns it 8+ years into ownership, because labor costs are orders of magnitude more than servicing an old ‘scort in modern times; I got an entirely new cooling system, new power steering pump/hoses, new alternator, new A/C compressor, and a new timing belt in my 1982 Ford EXP for less than the price of a water pump swap in a modern 3.5-liter Ford.

It’s a shame, because the 3.5-liter Ford coulda been just as durable as the previous 3.0-liter Duratec V-6 found in older Ford Fusions, Five Hundreds, and Freestyles. External water pumps ensured the 3.0’s rotating assembly was essentially bulletproof, making for a compelling purchase at the bottom of the depreciation curve. But the “quintessential Ford dude in me” reminds everyone that Dearborn wasn’t the only manufacturer to do something this ridiculous. Chrysler did it with the 2.7-liter V-6, and several VW engines followed suit.

But they added a plot twist: VW’s internal water pumps came with the added bonus of plastic impellers. VW was successfully hit with lawsuits, but similar efforts against Ford’s superior-ish design have yet to succeed.

It’s a shame that somewhere in the hallowed halls of these automaker’s office buildings are people thinking of ways to advance the automobile at the expense of longterm ownership. This is a terrible way to treat your brand, but one perk of the EV revolution (as it were) is that all automakers are slowly adapting to the electric vehicle’s simple powertrain architecture. There’s so much less to screw up in an EV, especially compared to a plastic impeller VW or a 3.5-liter FWD Ford product.

The only flaw in my logic is the EV’s battery, but it’s never a hidden “gotcha” like these awful water pumps. And how great is that?

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com—give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

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This is a week of giving thanks across North America, and my Piston Slap column is no different. I wish to thank the folks who email me questions (I can always use more at pistonslap@hagerty.com) for this series and the commentators for personally enriching my knowledge base. And since many of us shall be consuming large amounts of carbs and tryptophan-laden dishes, let’s once again enjoy the tradition of overindulging in the automotive problem that is this series’ namesake: slapping pistons and failing engines!

John writes:

I have that piston slap, how can I stop the rattling on cold start?

Sajeev answers:

You can’t do much, because the noise comes from between the piston and the cylinder of the engine. For most folks it’s better to deal with the noise because fixing it costs thousands at a machine shop—maybe tens of thousands if the motor is for some exclusive specialty car. No matter the application, going to a heavier oil weight can help, but that might have unintended consequences for the engine elsewhere if it wasn’t made for it. Best you change the oil regularly, and be OK with the noise when cold.

Justin writes:

I read the article about piston slap on 2011–13 Hyundai Elantra 1.8 engines (TSB 14-20-002). I’m a mechanic myself and I’ve known that Hyundais have had this issue for years now. My mother recently purchased a ’13 Hyundai Elantra with full service records and only 58,000 miles on it. Car went in to limp mode about a week ago and after inspecting it, I can confirm I hear the piston slap within the engine.

I am planning on going to the dealer and demanding a replacement engine under the warranty. Original bumper-to-bumper warranty being 6 years/60,000 miles, which it hasn’t even hit yet, and the class action lawsuit settlement having extended the warranty to 10 years/120,000 miles. I’m reaching out wondering if you can foresee any problems occurring with me going that route? Yes, it’s 2023 and 10 years from production date of vehicle, but it hasn’t even hit 60K let alone 120K.

Sajeev answers:

I anticipate an uphill battle, especially if you demand something from an overworked service advisor who’s about as burnt out with their career as you are with this Elantra. So play the empathy card, and see if the dealer/Hyundai district manager is more charitable than needed to keep their job. If your mom bought the Elantra from a Hyundai dealer, I anticipate they will put the new motor in with zero stress. If not, they don’t have an ongoing relationship (as it were) and could reject the claim.

Worst-case scenario, you might be able to get a new motor for less money, just because the mileage is so low. Maybe you can get the motor from the district manager and install it yourself? Offer things like this if at all possible. I would also scan customer reviews/ask other local mechanics to see if one Hyundai dealer is staffed with folks who are better with escalations to the Hyundai mothership than others in your area.

Mike writes:

My parents purchased my Elantra in Virginia and gave me the car in 2018. The “slap” noise started after starting on a very cold morning (Virginia, after all) in December 2022. I could not afford to take it to dealership, and since no lights were on, I drove the car just fine. Regular oil changes were done, many from Hyundai. Nothing else is wrong with the car. Did not know about piston slap until my mom looked it up after she heard the noise two weeks ago.

Took it to a Hyundai dealer this week. They say my VIN does not qualify for the lawsuit settlement (but I have the year and engine listed in lawsuit). They also say I am out of warranty anyways because the settlement only extended warranty to 120K and mine has 140K. I don’t have money to buy a car. What can I do?

Sajeev answers:

Much like Justin’s concerns, because of the mileage, and the fact you aren’t the original owner, you are also in for an uphill journey. I have a similar Hail Mary for you: Escalate the issue with any Hyundai dealer that’s willing to work with a Hyundai district manager to see if they can do a partial goodwill repair for you. While this repair may not include a new engine for free, maybe if you ask nicely they can heavily discount the job for you.

Sue writes:

I have a 2013 Subaru Forester that had oil consumption and piston slap upon startup. It was purchased new in 2013, and it now has approximately 140K on the clock. I am on my THIRD short-block with new improved oil rings, and I switched from 0w-20 to 5w-20 oil and still have to add two quarts between 5000-mile changes. When the car sits overnight I get a piston slap (or light clicking?) upon startup, which goes away after it warms up. I am thinking the last new set of oil rings are broken in and piston skirting is worn down on all pistons causing the noise? As long as the mileage is not changing can you offer any advice or figure just keep driving until it dies?

Sajeev answers:

Three short-blocks, hmm? Well, let’s hope the third time is indeed the charm, as what you are experiencing is the best its gonna get. We all have to take a leap of faith, because we must have faith that new short-locks are assembled/machined correctly to match the piston rings. You can’t dig in there and verify the work was done correctly for yourself. If this is an engine from Subaru, monitor its health (oil consumption, piston slap noise) and see if it degrades during the factory warranty period. I am hoping your current engine will outlast the 10-year-old chassis around it, and you can merely drive it until it dies. Hopefully that will be a long, long, long time from now.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com—give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

***

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Lyle writes:

Hey Sanjeez, I have a question for Piston Slap: What makes a reliable engine?

Like, there are some throughout history that seem to have endlessly positive reputation despite having at least some problems or quirks. Nothing is perfect, but why are some better than others? Is it the design? Production? Materials? Some combination of all three, with a little sprinkling of Chemical X?

Sanjeez (who is really Sajeev) answers:

Excellent question Lyle, and your slow meatball pitch is setting me up for a home run. Thanks for that, so let’s get into why a combination of everything you mentioned makes a reliable engine.

I learned that even the most durable motors have problems at some point in vehicle ownership, stemming from faults in engineering or the supply chain. Even worse, this can happen at any time over the engine’s lifecycle, because it’s just a commodity made by a multi-national corporation. I used to think the 100 percent cast-iron Ford Vulcan V-6 was as tough as they get, except examples at the tail end of its 20+ year history had a defective cylinder head casting that could crack.

My tarnished brand loyalty aside, it turns out that everything matters, especially over time. Cheap out in the supply chain (somewhere, who knows where) and something like this cylinder head defect surfaces. Add the complexity of modern small displacement, low friction turbocharged engines designed to meet government mandates across the globe, and the system is ripe for failures.

And no period of time is safe from blame: Bite off more than you can chew with bleeding edge technology and the early Cadillac HT4100 engine is the result. Tinker with oil change intervals, PCV systems, etc., and sludgy 2000s era motors from VW and Toyota rise to the surface. Subaru boxers have a serious love/hate relationship with the Internet. And when the entire industry seeks less friction in an engine’s short block, oil consumption issues across the board becomes more prevalent.

Now let’s get a little weird …

Chasing down all the fail points will drive you mad, but as a judge in the 24 Hours of Lemons, I learned that presumably durable mills can be downright hapless in endurance races. I’m looking at you, small-block Chevy and various engines from Toyota and Honda that can’t stand being revved for long periods of time. Even the legendary Chrysler Slant-Six has a checkered history in this series, while BMW inline-sixes can take the heat just as well as they do on the streets. (Maybe better?)

Ironically and shockingly, Lemons taught us that the Cadillac HT4100 does pretty well in an endurance race. A Cadillac-swapped Miata is winning races fast enough to hurt some egos in the process. Contrary to the delightfully snarky video above, the HT4500 and HT4900s are one of the better V-8 swaps you can do in this race series. Getting a budget-built small-block Ford/Chevy to be competitive for that many hours on track is difficult, but aside from Ford’s lazy-revving SOHC 4.6-liter mill, the Cadillac is where its at.

And oh boy, does it ever have Cadillac style! (Cue that bass guitar drop!) 

I think everyone needs an HT4100 swap so they can go and “live, love every mile” in flagship style. It proves the point that good engines can be junk, and junky engines can be fantastic.

Frustrated by my answer yet?

Just remember that nothing is sacred, as engineers, mechanics, previous owners, government mandates, and supply chain snafus will find a way to surprise you. No brand is unassailable, no dataset has all the information you seek. So be vigilant on maintenance, buy used vehicles with a service history, and get an extended warranty if your nerves cannot be soothed into submission. Only joking on that last part … probably.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com—and give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

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Carl writes:

My wife has a 2014 BMW X3 with a 2.0L turbo and 100K miles that has been dealer maintained since new. In the morning when first started, it sounds like a muted diesel engine. It’s difficult to tell if the sound is coming from the lower end or perhaps from solenoids/valves in the emissions system. The sound is more noticeable when cold, but it’s still evident when hot. The BMW dealer said the sound is “characteristic” for the engine. Some posting boards say to use a heavier oil than a 5W30 and the noise will go away. What are your thoughts?

Sajeev answers:

Hi, Carl. It’s generally a bad idea to use heavier oil unless there’s a variance of oil weights listed in the owner’s manual. Odds are the oil isn’t a problem here, as problems that surface upon startup but go away/get quieter as the engine heats up can come from other sources. I found two such things in my research. BMW’s N20 engines have known issues with their timing chain guides and the wastegate on the turbocharger. Both could be applicable here, which means we need to try to eliminate one or both of them.

Let’s tackle the timing chain guides first. Timing chain guides are known to rattle upon startup, and that’s not just a BMW N20 thing. (My 1995 Lincoln Mark VIII has been rattling upon startup for 15-something years and well over 100,000 miles; it’s clearly not the end of the world.) There was a recall on this a couple of years ago; you can learn more about this issue here. I highly recommend asking the dealership if BMW will pay for this repair, and they might make this happen easily since you’ve been giving them a steady flow of cash for regular maintenance items. That’s a much bigger deal these days when seeking goodwill repairs.

So, now let’s look at the possibility of a rattle from the turbo’s wastegate. Getting the dealer to address this might be harder, as I see no recall in the works for that. But when you put the affected parts on a bench, the problem becomes clear.

Although it’s a clear-cut issue, the repair can be dicey. You can adjust the wastegate’s linkage, but that might only be a temporary fix. Depending on how long it’s been loose, there’s a good chance the soft metal bushing that’s part of the wastegate system has worn out. A new bushing is needed eventually: Odds are yours has less play, as all that metal heats up from that toasty little turbocharger.

And apparently the new bushing comes in a nice little kit for your wastegate. Many different vendors sell them, and you can see one type of kit being installed here. These might be of varying quality, so discuss which kit is best with a local BMW-savvy technician who is well-versed in the issue.

It doesn’t have to be at a BMW dealership, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the dealer can do the job for a competitive rate, if you ask nicely for a discount since this is a known flaw. I bet they’ve seen this issue on turbocharged BMWs on a weekly basis, and they know the right bits to install. This is one time the dealer might be even better than an independent mechanic. Of course, that depends on the number of BMW-savvy mechanics around you (North America is such a diverse place, ain’t it?), but I’m digressing … Ask someone trustworthy and familiar with N20 engines about how they’d fix the wastegate rattle.

Be it a bad guide or wasted wastegate, I am pretty confident your problem will be found if you start here. Best of luck!

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com—give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

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James writes:

Hi! Have a 2010 Kia Forte with 69,000 miles. It has bearing noise and piston slap when cold at startup. I read Kia recalled some of these 2.0 engines but we never received a notice. Hard to believe such a low milage car has this! Local mechanic said to “just drive it,” but what do you think?  Thanks!

Sajeev answers:

I am pretty sure your local mechanic is right, but I would highly recommend starting a paper trail with your local Kia dealership. I hope you have service records showing regular oil changes, as those are crucial to a paper trail that will work in your favor. And this is a big deal because the Theta II engine has manufacturing issues that lead to engine failure. This video does a fantastic job explaining the problem:

But the only way to know for certain is by yanking it out and disassembling it. Which would be much like exploratory surgery in a hospital setting, as it is something nobody wants to do. So instead, just make sure the Kia corporate mothership has a paper trail on you (with oil change history) and your engine’s performance issues. Heck, you might wanna ask the service manager at your Kia dealership of how many engines they’ve replaced under recall/warranty/goodwill in the last 5–7 years. I bet they could tell you a heckuva story.

Or stories—plural. Manufacturing defects seem par for the course with Hyundai-Kia gasoline engines these days. The scope of the problem is likely unknown, as I suspect many are quietly addressed via dealership franchises performing the aforementioned goodwill repairs. Unless another whistleblower provides a running list of all the poorly manufactured parts from the beginning to the end of production for all Hyundai/Kia engine families, we are likely to only see a hodgepodge of errors come to the surface. Which doesn’t exactly help you, so let’s get back to the point.

Start a paper trail of customer concerns and oil change history with the Kia dealership, as I promise that the effort put in has a potential benefit, should your motor decide to implode in the future. Once complete, do what your mechanic said: Drive the Kia normally, but keep an eye on oil consumption as if the car’s life depends on it.

Because it probably does, as naming your engine after the Greek letter associated with death turned out to be a bad move. Best of luck, because maybe you got one of the motors that was machined/assembled correctly. Fingers crossed on that.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com—give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

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This article first appeared in Hagerty Drivers Club magazine. Click here to subscribe and join the club.

Ken Levin writes:

My 1960 Ford Country Sedan runs hot, particularly in traffic on warm days. The car is rebuilt to stock specs and equipped with the original radiator and four-blade fan. No air conditioner. What are my options to improve the cooling, and which do you recommend?

Hot running can be caused by many things (stuck thermostat, rusted water pump impeller, sediment in the water passages of the block), but overheating in warm weather usually means that the radiator’s cooling capacity is insufficient. Running additionally hot in traffic is a classic symptom of inadequate airflow.

Since your radiator is 62 years old, I’d recommend upgrading to something with a three- or four-row core. I’m not a big fan of re-coring radiators, but if you want to keep yours original, and if you know of a good, old-school radiator shop, you can certainly go that route. Replacing the radiator is a bit confusing, as the 1960 Country Sedan doesn’t appear to be as well-represented in databases as its Ford brothers. I believe the radiator is the same as that for a 1960–63 Galaxie. However, unless you’re certain that something is a correct replacement, I’d recommend calling Eckler’s Automotive (877-305-8966), as it should be able to confirm fitment, and it has both original-looking copper radiators as well as aluminum. Personally, I don’t care for the look of aluminum radiators in vintage cars, but they’re usually a less expensive option.

Regarding the airflow, a shroud around the mechanical fan should improve cooling in traffic, but I’m seeing conflicting information on whether your car had one. Some folks would advise an aluminum radiator with one or two electric fans directly attached to it, but I’m not a, er, fan of this approach. The electric fans that come on inexpensive radiator-fan packages are usually junk. They often move less air than advertised and don’t last. Also, I resist the deletion of a reliable belt-driven fan, unless there’s no alternative.

I’d update the radiator and see how much of the problem that solves. If it still runs hot in traffic, try changing to a five- or six-bladed fan inside a full shroud. If that doesn’t work, then try shrouded high-quality electric fans.

Randy Mertz writes:

I have a ’64 Chevy Impala with an original 140,000-mile 327 engine. It runs and drives after sitting 15 years in the barn, although the power brake booster is shot. I can get the car started, but after warmup, it smokes oil terribly and oil drips out the exhaust pipes. Mechanics have told me the rings are bad, but there’s no blowby coming out of the oil-fill tube, and the engine is pretty peppy when I step on the gas. Is it the valve guides and seals that are letting oil into cylinders?

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I have to agree with the mechanics.

Fog-like oil burning usually is caused by something in the cylinder-piston-ring interface, and if the car sat for 15 years, it could be that the rings are stuck. Sometimes they free up with use, sometimes they don’t. In contrast, worn valve guides and leaky valve seals usually result in oil burning at start-up and during deceleration.

I’d recommend performing a leak-down test to get as much information as possible. Since you note that the power brake booster is shot, you should check that what’s dripping out the exhaust is oil and not brake fluid. It’s possible for brake master cylinders to fail, leak brake fluid into the booster, and for the fluid to get sucked into the intake manifold. When burned, brake fluid smoke is white (oil smoke is bluer) and has an acrid, bitter smell.

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Rob’s latest book, The Best of the Hack Mechanic: 35 years of Hacks, Kluges, and Assorted Automotive Mayhem, is available on Amazon here. His other seven books are available here on Amazon, or you can order personally inscribed copies from Rob’s website, www.robsiegel.com.

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In the endless pursuit of more speed aboard my 1986 Honda XR250R motard, it has now come down to searching for incremental gains in power. The aerodynamics are terrible, the suspension is pretty good, and the brakes are great. So that leaves horsepower as the low-hanging fruit. But to be clear, there is no truly low-hanging fruit here.

Regular readers will recall I converted this bike from an air-cooled thumper designed for trail riding and toodling around the farm into a dedicated road-racing machine. Sure, it’s an odd choice, but with lots of ground clearance and suspension travel, the XR250R is a forgiving and fun bike to ride. It’s just important to remember such use is far outside the engineering parameters of its early 1980s origins. The lack of horsepower means corner speed is the only way to decent lap times, and that requires real understanding of proper riding technique, which scales up to larger bikes that might one day be in my future.

After running three weekends with this bike last year, I realized that while chasing additional power would likely be a fool’s errand, there were some easy ways to eke out a little extra. Since bolt-on solutions do not exist for my “problems,” and I had to engineer my own performance package, I looked no further than the basics.

More air (and exhaust)

There’s an old saying that engines are nothing more than air pumps. More air in and more air out makes for higher power potential.

To get more air out, my first step was to grind down the welds inside the factory exhaust. This opened up nearly a quarter-inch of additional diameter, which is quite significant when talking about airflow. With a couple more paychecks saved up, I made the jump up to an even larger stainless-steel header pipe. Plenty of air leaving.

Sadly, there still wasn’t much going in. Despite my DIY porting of the cylinder head and adding a larger, 34-mm Mikuni carburetor, the whole operation was drawing through the drinking straw that is the factory air box. This meant all air had to travel through a rubber tube that changes shape and volume as it passes around the rear shock.

After finding a mangled airbox from a bike I parted out a while back, I had the idea to swap to a free-flowing pod filter. The guts of the old airbox would act perfectly as a deflector to protect the shock from debris flying off the rear tire, and I could keep open the left side, which has the number-plate mounting points. Because I put the pod filter right on the carb, the bike still has all the proper mounting points for the things it needs. Crucially, it also has a lot more airflow.

More fuel

Most motorcycles like this XR have simple fuel systems. Fuel tank, petcock shutoff valve, hose, carburetor. Having already changed the carb to a larger model, the only thing left here was the fuel hose, which in this application is actually something of a fuel pump. The stock XR250R is made for grunting around at low rpm and has a fairly large fuel bowl, meaning there is little risk of pulling fuel up through the main jet faster than it can refill from the tank.

In prepping the bike for racing, however, it only took a couple full-throttle pulls down the street to see I had fuel delivery problems. The amount of air being drawn into the engine corresponds to the amount of fuel being consumed, since we tune the engine to run on a particular fuel-air ratio.

With a significantly larger fuel hose, I essentially created a larger fuel bowl. The inlet into the carb is still a slight restriction but not nearly as tight as the petcock. No more fuel issues.

More compression

More air and more fuel are the basics of making more power from an engine. Increasing compression is a little more involved. This is the ratio between the volume of the cylinder with the piston at bottom dead center and the volume when the piston is at top dead center. The tighter you can squeeze the air and fuel mixture before lighting the spark plug and allowing the burning mixture to expand, the more energy can be converted from the potential in the fuel to the kinetic energy of piston movement.

To solve this, I changed the piston for one with a slight dome and also had the cylinder head decked to remove a couple thousandths of an inch. Think of this as lowering the ceiling in a room. The volume of the space changes, especially when the piston is at the top of its stroke. More squeeze, more power.

The change demands that I be careful about what fuel to run, as lower-octane fuel is more susceptible to igniting by itself when compressed. Factor in the added work of ensuring that valve-to-piston clearance is acceptable, and this step borders on “not easy.” The effort is worth the reward, though.

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The key to getting more power from your engine is to understand how it makes power—and what adjusting the factors of that equation can do. Sure, for most engines you can copy someone else’s parts list and assemble a similar mill that you know will work. But where’s the fun in simply being a credit-card mechanic?

Individuality requires knowledge. Everything you learn on one project can be used on future projects, and before you know it, you’ve spiraled up to building really interesting stuff. Start with the basics, and you never know where you’ll end up. That sounds a lot more fun than just ordering parts, right?

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After attending a few LS Fests it’s hard to be surprised to see one of the world’s most ubiquitous V-8s mounted into an obscure car or other conveyance. However, we were still impressed with the ingenuity and craftsmanship in many of the cars on display at LS Fest West 2023. Here are some of our favorite swaps from the event.

Steve Groenink’s 1973 Celica sat in a field for almost 30 years before he got his hands on it 13 years ago. It was reborn as a Pro Pouring build with a Lexus 1UZ swap, a pair of turbos, and a T-56 Magnum six-speed manual transmission. After winding up in a ditch with that build, Groenink rebuilt the car into the drag-and-drive competitor you see today. It’s powered by a 388-cubic-inch V-8 with LS3 heads, a Concept Performance LSR aluminum block, and aluminum rods. That fiendish build is mated to a two-speed Powerglide automatic transmission. A single Precision XPR 98mm turbo feeds it loads of boost to the tune of 1,163 hp—as measured by the LS Fest dyno. Groenink got eliminated just before making the drag race finals at LS Fest West 2023 but still managed to run a 7.93 E.T. at 189 mph when Las Vegas Motor Speedway’s density altitude was more than 6000 feet.

We’re not sure it really counts as a swap considering a kit car doesn’t come with any engine at all, but Chris Hein’s Factory Five coupe is very impressive nonetheless. After building the car on a budget, Hein rebuilt the car to compete in drag-and-drive events like Drag Week, Sick Week, and Rocky Mountain Race Week. A set of mirror-image Garrett turbos feed a stock 6.2-liter LSA long-block and help it produce more than 1000 hp. Hein shifts the car himself using a G-Force T-56 Magnum with a Tick Performance billet front plate and McLeod clutch. The car has run in the 8s and can rack up highway miles comfortably thanks to its air-conditioned cab.

Adam Rocconi, who goes by @WS6SIX6 on Instagram, bought this Trans Am for $900 when he was 17 years old. It originally boasted a tuned port 305, but now the car is now powered by an LQ9 from a 2004 Escalade that runs Holley Terminator X EFI. Of course, now the 6.0-liter V-8 has new heads and cam as well as an intake with eight throttle bodies from Redux Racing, so it’s making a lot more than its original 345 hp rating. The individual throttle bodies took some tinkering to sync up, although the snappy throttle response seems well worth the effort. Inside, the car’s original Recaro seats were reupholstered and looked amazing with the metallic brown exterior.

Of course, there were hundreds of LS swaps on display and we couldn’t see them all, let alone get the details on all of them, so here are some additional standout swaps that we managed to snap pictures of. Which one is your favorite? Let us know in the comments below.

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The post Our favorite LS swaps from LS Fest West 2023 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Carla writes:

My 2006 Subaru Forester clatters each morning when I start it. After a couple of minutes, the noise goes away and I don’t hear it again until the next morning when I start the car. It has 202,000+ miles on it.

I’ve read that it might be bad spark plugs (it is almost time to change them), or the tensioner on the timing belt (recently replaced with new kit) or a bad valve-cover gasket that seals itself after the engine heats up (changed at 174,000 miles along with the head gasket). I’ve read other ideas like cheap oil filter (I use Subaru oil filters) and a few other ones.

I’d like to hear if you have other thoughts.

Sajeev answers:

Engine clatter upon startup is usually more of an oil pressure or a timing-chain guide issue. The latter is clearly not relevant on your timing belt–equipped Forester, so I am focusing on oil pressure right after you twist the key. While an oil filter that lacks an anti-drain-back valve can reduce start-up oil pressure to the point of clatter, that isn’t applicable here, either. The other items you noted (plugs, valve cover gasket, belt tensioner) are highly unlikely to be an issue.

What we have here is the classic issue of old engines misbehaving like old engines normally do. Low oil pressure upon startup is sometimes just a cost of doing business at your mileage. High-mileage oil formulations aren’t likely to help with this noise.

Perhaps replacing the oil pump would fix the clatter, but a cheap part with expensive labor just doesn’t seem worth it at this stage in the engine’s life. Not to mention the fact that the oil pump may not be enough on a motor with this many miles under its belt: Only a full teardown and rebuild can determine that.

And well, it looks pretty easy if you watch this video:

If you love your Forester—more than any replacement you could afford—then you might be tempted to spend the cash to fix this issue. Except you must not, because you should wait until something worse happens under the hood. Doing so now is throwing money at a problem that doesn’t need a solution.

Bottom line: Be okay with that startup clatter, as it isn’t appreciably hurting anything. Worry about fixing it (with an engine rebuild or replacement) when the noise becomes more frequent. Or louder.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com—give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

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The comments quoted in this article have been edited lightly for clarity and house style. —Ed. 

Turns out there are lot of great engine names out there! You, a member of the Hagerty Community, helped fill my list with engine names that stood the test of time. Or at least been memorable enough to never forget. And some were just nicknames that caught on! No matter the name’s popularity or where it came from, here is your list of favorite engine names!

Blue Flame

You just gotta keep the flame for Chevy’s famous inline six cylinder engine. It powered so many vehicles, ranging from the work-ready to the weekend fun generated by the original Corvette. It’s almost a shame we only got two upvotes for it!

• Peter: The “Blue Flame Six” baby!!
• DUB6: Yeah, I always thought Blue Flame Six was a catchy name for an engine.

HEMI

I was a little surprised to see that only one person (@JBD) mentioned Chrysler’s famous Hemi V-8. Or maybe this comes as no surprise, as the name is so common that the Hagerty Community wanted to dig up other names that we might have forgotten?

AMC Torque Command & Typhoon

Be it the V-8 or the straight-6, AMC’s Typhoon name was so catchy and so perfect for the era. There was even a special edition AMC Rambler called the Typhoon in 1964, but the name lived on in their engines.

• Gregory: AMC’s “Typhoon” is my favorite.
• Adam: 343 Typhoon by American Motors.

Mopar Grab Bag

Thanks to Commando, Super Commando, Magnum, Wedge motors, and likely many more, the Chrysler brands likely had the coolest engine names of any manufacturer. Be it Chrysler, Dodge, Plymouth, and DeSoto, there are so many names to love:

• Safetyguy: My ’63 Plymouth says “Golden Commando POWER” on the fender badge but has a 318 poly head, the “Semi Hemi” small big-block.
• Tom: Super Commando is another one I remember from high school days.
• JBD: Magnum, Super Commando.
• Grant: Sonoramic Commando Power.
• Stephen: Plymouth “Golden Commando Power” and Dodge “Super Red Ram” are two of my favorites.
• TA: Super Commando, Magnum.
• Clare: Dodge’s baby hemi, the “Red Ram.” A fantastic little engine at 241 cubes (basically 4.0 liter), but what a HEAVY SLUG. Just about pulled the chicken barn down pulling the engine and trans out of my ’53 Coronet!!
• Paul:  Chryslers Golden Lion 361 four-barrel.
• WLB: The Chrysler Firepower and DeSoto Firedome Hemis.

Buick: Nailhead and Wildcat

While giving catchy names to engines in more premium luxury cars wasn’t commonplace, Buick had the Nailhead and the later Wildcat V-8s.

• Robert: Nailhead by Buick!
• DUB6: Not sure if Nailhead was actually a name that Buick coined, but it sure is descriptive enough if one knows what it means (most of the general public doesn’t, I think).
• KJ: I’m still ol’ school: 6 – 2s on a 425 Nailhead!
• Mark:  Nobody mentioned the Buick Wildcat engines? (Sad but true, luckily you resolved that! – Ed.) 

Iron Duke

The famous Iron Duke was as tough as the name suggested, if tragically short on power and refinement for many automotive applications where it saw frequent use. Luckily I am not the only person who loves this little motor and its fantastic name.

• DUB6: Iron Duke sticks in my mind as memorable.
• Mark: My favorite name is Iron Duke.

Willys Tornado & Go Devil

Did the Willy’s Go Devil (L134) engine win World War II for the good guys? Not singlehandedly, but it was a big part of getting people in the right place at the right time. But it wasn’t the only name from Willys:

• Dean: Go Devil Willys L134.
• JohnfromSC: Tornado by Willys.
• Reggie: The Jeep Willys “Go Devil.” That’s quite a name; I would drive that into war.
• Ren: Willys “Go Devil” flathead four used in WWII jeeps and early CJs.

Ford: Interceptor, Boss, Cobra Jet, Super Cobra Jet

The Blue Oval folks weren’t short of catchy engine names in the 1950s and ’60s, especially for their big block V-8 engines:

• Mark: You’ve got include the BOSS engines by Ford. They encompassed the slang of the day and they’re still respected almost 50 years later.
• Gayle: Ford Interceptor.
• Mark: Fords 428 Cobra Jet, Super Cobra Jet, and Police Interceptor!

Gray Marine Fireball

Not to be outdone by their land based counterparts, marine applications had memorable names too. Gray Marine did the boating world a solid with its name for the AMC-derived V-8 that powered many boats during the muscle car era.

• Mark: Gray Marine Fireball V-8. I have one in my Century Resorter wood boat. It is modified for marine use, based on a 1950s 250-cu-in AMC engine. Reliable and rugged.

Air Cooled says it all?

American manufacturers dominate the landscape of “cool names for engines,” but that’s not to say that other manufacturers haven’t earned a catchy phrase or two for their creations.

• Ray: Simple, descriptive, succinct, reliable, and immediately identifiable: “Air-cooled Flat-Six.” And for us older guys, a name across two brands: “Air-cooled Flat-Four.”

Oldsmobile: Jetfire, Rocket & Ramrod

Not to be outdone by competition from Pontiac and Chevrolet, Oldsmobile had memorable engine names that were absolutely worthy of their Rocket-themed designs of the mid-century era.

• BigRig12: My car’s engine has the best name, 455 Rocket!
• Jim: I always liked “ROCKET 88.”
• Tom:  Easily the Oldsmobile Jetfire with Turbo-Rocket V-8 engine snorting Turbo-Rocket Fluid, as water methanol injection. Had the fluid tank been three times the size, or the compression been 7–8, it might have hung around a little longer.
• Ed: My buddy had a big Oldsmobile (late ’60s, I think) and on the air cleaner it said, “Oldsmobile 425 Ultra High Compression Super Rocket.”
• Mood-O: How about the “Ramrod” 350?

The Leaning Tower of Power & Hyper-Pak

Chrysler’s Slant 6 has a well-deserved reputation for durability, affordability, and being easy to work on. That said, the Slant 6 wasn’t just a workhorse, it could be tweaked and tuned for a big more fun.

• World24: I like the “Leaning Tower of Power” because that sounds a bit cooler to me.
• Gary: How about the 1960–61 Plymouth “Hyper Pak” high-performance slant-six engine?

Flathead, Panhead, Knucklehead, & Shovelhead

While being accurate, the “valve in block engine” is a rather boring description of this type of engine design. Flathead accomplishes the same description, but from a different vantage point. And there’s another “heady” description for engines of the Harley Davidson variety too!

• TGJ: How about the Knucklehead, Panhead, and Shovelhead?
• OldFordMan: Of course, FLATHEAD V-8!

Chevrolet: Mystery Motor, Turbo-Jet, Ram Jet

There was something about Chevrolet engine names of the era, as they felt more functional and less emotional, less dramatic as your average Mopar, Pontiac, or Buick name.

• Jack: ’57–65 “Ramjet” Fuel Injected SB chevys.
• Dynoking: Turbo Jet, big block Mystery Motor.

High Output

The comment below triggered memories of the 1980s for me, hence the photo above. Ford made a big deal about the increasing levels of power its engines were getting as it put the Malaise Era in the rear view, be it from 5.0 Mustangs or 1.9-liter Escorts. General Motors did it too, with everything from the famous small block Chevy to Oldsmobile’s Quad 4. So thanks to @Erik for both reminding me of the ’80s, and teaching me about the 455 HO from Pontiac!

• Erik: I would add (HO) High Output for the 455 HO to the mix from 1971 and ’72. It had the Ram Air IV top end. Quite a nice motor with loads of torque and able to make 13-second time slips out of a low compression motor.

Dauntless V-6

Buick’s Fireball V-6 has a story no other engine could tell, and part of it includes its connection to Kaiser-Willys:

• Dean: When Kaiser-Willys bought the Buick V-6 tooling, it called the new engine the Dauntless V-6. When the oil crisis hit, GM took a Dauntless and put it in a Nova (or Buick Apollo) and determined that it would really help bring the gas mileage CAFE up. They bought the tooling back, and the rest is history.

Ford Vulcan

Is it possible that the most memorable engine name in Ford’s lineup is for a motor that powered the original Taurus? Believe it or not, we didn’t get a lot of love for the Coyote V-8 in our initial question, but we got one hit for this cast iron workhorse:

• Chuck: “Vulcan” by Ford.

RPO codes

Codes aren’t a name, are they? Sure, but consider how revered certain RPO codes are in the classic car market. Maybe the three codes below will change your mind, because they instantly conjure up images of unmatched performance and exclusivity:

• Jack: Chevy’s legendary RPO codes. ZL1, L88, and LS6.

Induction-Specific Names

Feeding air into an engine can be fantastic inspiration for a catchy engine name. The act of doing the deed better than others can be distilled into a word or three, right? That said, is it possible to come up with an exhaust-centric name for an engine?

• Vern: Pontiac Tri-power! Three deuces and a four-speed, and a 389! It’s all about my little GTO.
• jim: Pontiac Ram Air IV, and the Formula 400 (I’ve got one of those).
• Peter: “Three deuces” still turns my crank in my ’65 GTO.
• TA: Six Pack, Ram Air.
• Jon: You all missed the most classic of classic names … the one and only, Spider Turbo-Charged Corvair!

Pontiac Trophy & Sprint 6

While we have sprinkled Pontiac references above, it’s about time they got the same “stand alone” treatment given to Chevrolet, Oldsmobile, and Buick.

• Reggie:  Pontiac’s inline-six, named “OHC 6 Sprint”
• Gayle: Pontiac “Trophy V-8”

Napier Deltic

An engine that complicated deserves a unique name, don’t cha think? The triple crankshaft equipped Napier Deltic likely didn’t stand the test of time for many reasons, but the power it must have put out in its heyday woulda been spectacular to behold in person.

• Slow Joe Crow: Napier Deltic, almost as incomprehensible as the engine itself with 18 cylinders and three crankshafts.

EcoBoost (R.I.P. Twin Force)

Our very own @DUB6 probably gave us the best comment, even though he may not know the whole truth behind the name. In his words:

“I’m not sure I can isolate a favorite, but I think I know my LEAST favorite: EcoBoost!”

Agreed! But did you know that EcoBoost wasn’t the original name for the first of this engine family? It was Twin Force, making its debut in the 2007 Lincoln MKR concept car. Between that moment and the production of the 3.5-liter, twin-turbocharged V-6 came a name change to the a more Eco-friendly, greenwashed name. While greenwashing is an issue (i.e. turbo boost is not terribly fuel efficient), the name easily transferred to four-cylinder Fords with a single turbocharger: Can’t make that happen with Twin Force.

But still, if I wanted to help the environment, I’d be taking mass transit. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, so perhaps Devries Designs did a better job than Ford? Because when you have a turbo with boost optimized by a computer, why not make an Eco-BEAST instead?

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The post According to you: Your favorite name for an engine appeared first on Hagerty Media.

What’s in a name? Is it massive torque? Immense power? Something else?

No matter what you’re into, great engine names are out there. Ford has the Windsor and Coyote, with the Essex for oddball lovers like yours truly. Chrysler has the Hemi and Hellcat, but there’s something inherently impressive about the phrase Max Wedge. Chevrolet motors aren’t necessarily as catchy in the moniker department, but the big-block rat and small-block mouse motors are nicknames worthy of mention.

And let’s not forget the (Mercury) Super Marauder V-8, (Buick) Fireball V-6, and even the (Oldsmobile) Rocket. Marketers in Detroit were working overtime in the good ol’ days, and we admire Stellantis for dubbing its new inline-six “Hurricane,” which has a whiff of decades past.

That’s just what we see stateside and in English, too, which means there are perhaps plenty more noms de “boom“ around the globe. (Multi-lingual readers—enlighten us!)

So let’s get into it, what are your all-time favorite engine names?

The post What are your favorite engine names? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

CarBuzz noticed an interesting patent filed by FCA earlier this month. The document contains several photos and explanations of how the automaker, now known as Stellantis, could cast an engine’s cylinder head and a turbocharger as one piece.

The patent abstract describes, “A cylinder head assembly for an internal combustion engine includes a cast cylinder head, a turbocharger housing includ­ing a compressor housing and turbine housing integrally cast with the cylinder head, and a turbocharger cartridge assem­bly configured to be inserted into the turbocharger housing and including a shaft coupled between a compressor wheel and a turbine wheel.”

The design has the potential to streamline the manufacturing and assembly of an engine, with the turbocharger’s turbine and compressor installed as a cartridge after final machining.

Several engine families have moved to designs that incorporate the exhaust manifold with the cylinder head. For example, General Motors began integrating the exhaust manifold into the cylinder head of its DOHC V-6 engine family at least as early as 2010, and the current lineup of naturally aspirated and turbocharged V-6s continues to use a similar design. Stellantis has been incorporating the exhaust manifold into the cylinder head of its own Pentastar V-6 (below) since the engine debuted for the 2011 model year. Ford’s EcoBoost engines are similar as well.

Including the manifold and cylinder head in one casting brings the turbocharger and/or exhaust catalyst closer to the combustion chamber, helping reduce emissions by lighting off the catalyst sooner. It also removes several bolts and a gasket surface, eliminating a potential exhaust leak.

Casting the turbocharger onto the cylinder head, as the patent entails, would offer the same benefits. It would place the turbine wheel closer to the combustion chamber where it could capture more of the exhaust’s heat energy and transfer it to the compressor wheel and provide boost more efficiently. It removes yet another gasket surface and another potential for exhaust leaks.

The patent also notes that the oil passages for the turbo would be cast into the turbo housing, allowing oil to drain back to the engine’s sump without requiring any additional lines and fittings eliminating yet another potential point for a fitting to fail and/or leak.

We’ve seen tremendous strides made in casting and machining in the last 30 years. The core shift common in ’60s and ’70s engine blocks that was apparent to the naked eye is a thing of the past, but there are pitfalls in making such an intricate part serve so many roles. That integrated oil passage keeping the turbo bearing cool is critical, and of course machining the deck surface, valve guides, and turbocharger cartridge mounting are all precise operations. We’re also concerned that a problem in the vehicle’s life 100,000 miles down the road might mean the whole piece could lead to an expensive repair or replacement.

Clearly, Stellantis sees the benefit in putting all of the efforts into creating such a complex casting. As enthusiasts, we’re going to miss the artistry of a perfectly routed set of exhaust primaries. Meanwhile, tuners and aftermarket manufacturers will have to get creative to improve on turbochargers if they’re hemmed in by the location and size of a fixed casting. What are your thoughts on this complex and ambitious patent?

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This question might sound a little familiar, as we discussed your worst engines in our last installment of According to You. And that’s where Hagerty Community member Bob Keith’scomment comes into play:

“Hey one more thing – excellent piece on the Worst Engines – NOW how about an article on the BEST Engines? I would love to read the final survey results for that!”

Me too, Bob!  So let’s do it. Your answers should not be regurgitated opinions from others, nor should they be from content consumed online or in a magazine. Only your experience with an engine can help forge such an enviable accolade.

To kick things off, I’ll share my candidate and give you all a sense of what we’re hoping to see in your answers.

Lotus/Mercury MarineChevrolet LT5 V-8

My experience driving a 1990 Corvette ZR-1 ensured that its 5.7-liter LT5 V-8 motor would become my runaway favorite engine. I got to enjoy it for just a few days as a college student, but that was all I needed. The C5 generation (1997–2004), LS1-equipped Corvette was already a couple of years old by the time I met the C4 generation (1984–96) ZR-1, but I couldn’t care less after tasting the sweet, sweet powerband of that LT5 motor. Between the 370 lb-ft of torque and 375 hp on tap and the wide powerband, the experience absolutely blew me away. (That little key on the dash that turns off half of the sixteen fuel injectors when someone else needs to drive it is worth a chuckle or two, as well.)

Then I drove a Lingenfelter stroker version of the LT5 that was bored out to 6.8 liters and made 668 horsepower—the brain-melting commenced for a second time. The big boy Lingenfelter has all the torque of a big block muscle car with the powerband of a VTEC Honda. You simply cannot understate the magnificence, especially when you open the hood and see Lingenfelter’s signature siamesed intake resting atop those massive double-overhead camshaft heads.

The ZR-1 was a tour de force when new, but it’s just as impressive nowadays and still shockingly underappreciated in today’s red-hot collector car market. While it’s a bit complex on the induction side of things, the motors are shockingly reliable and quite trustworthy. Why people don’t lust after this vehicle is beyond me, but the LT5 is clearly the best engine I’ve ever experienced.

And with that, I leave it to you, Hagerty Community:

What is the best engine you’ve ever experienced?

Jump in with your experiences in the comments below.

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Doug writes:

Hello Sajeev,

I was recently made aware of the 1.8-liter Nu Engine extended warranty for the 2011–2016 Hyundai Elantra, and subsequently brought my 2012 Elantra in for an engine diagnostic at the dealership. It was the same dealership from which I purchased the car as a Certified Pre-Owned vehicle in 2014.

The diagnostic was two visits at $193 each. My claim was denied by the Hyundai Motor America warranty department, and I was denied ANY access to the pictures, borescope images, and video. They had the nerve to tell me that if I wanted the results I would have to retain an attorney to get the results! My question is do you know of any route to take for escalating this issue I have with Hyundai?

I would appreciate any suggestions for either the warranty repair or the diagnostic money spent to be refunded.

Sajeev answers:

My unqualified legal advice is twofold: consult with an experienced Product Liability Attorney and be realistic about the process. Since we have no insight into why the claim was denied, this is sadly that’s the only option I see at this point. Or maybe just give up, trade it in, or sell it to Carvana outright. This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s taken advantage of a car dealer to dump a vehicle with powertrain issues, ya know.

Depending on where you live, manufacturers have a stronger case for denial if they can prove neglect. No matter what they saw, I bet they discourage you from taking action by making you go through hoops to acquire said proof. Pretty smart move for a profit-minded corporation, as lawyers are costly for both parties.

That said, if you don’t have a service history to prove regular oil changes on your part, well, you might be in for an uphill battle. The documentation doesn’t need to be from a dealership, it can be receipts from a third-party service department, or oil and filter purchases from a parts store.

No matter what documentation lives in your glovebox (as it were), lawyers bring a lot more stress your way. And, for all we know, there could be an arbitration clause thrown in there too. Assuming the engine is on its last legs, it might be time to sell and get something else. Best of luck, no matter what you decide.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

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Ron writes:

I own a 1954 Olds V8 and want to know how to make it run smoother. You can hear the rods when you first start it, there is a knocking sound. Also the carb hesitates when you come to a stop and then start moving again.

Sajeev asks:

Thank you for your question, Ron! How old is the motor and how many miles does it have? Depending on age and condition, the engine and carb might need to be rebuilt.

Ron answers:

I bought the car in 1983 it had 82,000 it now has 90,000. I don’t know for sure if it was the original miles since it was 29 years old? I am the third owner, and the carb was rebuilt twice in 2019.

Sajeev concludes:

Let’s assume the carb (this one?) was rebuilt correctly. Just ensure the idle is set correctly, it sounds like a little adjustment to the idle bleed screw is all you need. And by “little adjustment” I mean like half a turn with a screwdriver. Or less, much less. Just turn it so the engine speeds up ever so slightly. Then take it for a test drive and see if the hesitation improves.

If not? Rinse and repeat. And if that doesn’t fix the problem, maybe more advanced adjustments (i.e. the idle mixture screws) to the carb are needed.

For the engine noise? Knock upon startup is usually an oil pressure issue. Maybe the oil pump needs a rebuild, but before you tear into the engine, just ensure you’re using the right oil weight. You can run modern diesel engine oil, which has a higher zinc content because your car is pre-1974, which means it doesn’t have a catalytic converter. (Zinc doesn’t play nice with catalytic converters, but you’re in the clear here.) As previously mentioned, diesel-specific oil is readily available online or at local retailers. Try a bottle of oil stabilizer (like Lucas) if the rattle continues after that.

If those fail, consider the aforementioned oil pump rebuild. Or just live with the noise because it’s probably not worth the cost of tearing into the motor. At least not yet. When it comes to engines this old with no repair history, I’d wait for a bigger problem to arise before plunging into a full rebuild. That way you fix everything once, with no superfluous labor costs in the future. Get it done right the first time. But I suspect you don’t need to do that anytime soon. Best of luck!

UPDATE: see the discussion in the comments. If using the right oil doesn’t fix the problem, just rebuild the motor for peace of mind. The less stuff you break internally on a rare engine like this, the better.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

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We’ve seen the good and the bad in our lives, haven’t we? And when it comes to our passion for the automobile, does anything get us more upset than a poorly performing engine?

Take the photo above, as I am (sadly) quite the fan of Ford’s fairly disappointing Essex V-6. I am painfully aware of the issues with its head-gasket-munching demeanor, but I remain firm in my convoluted logic to find appeal in this mill. Which is irrelevant when the aluminum heads and flawed gasket design take over … but what was the motor that I truly hated?

I was but a young child in the back seat of this poor little VW product. Thanks to its diesel engine, the memories of my family’s temporary ownership of the VW Rabbit linger to this day. (A family friend wanted us to run it periodically while he was tending to family matters in India over the holidays.) I was freezing cold in a damp parking garage, realizing that perhaps a 3-to-4-year-old VW diesel wasn’t as cool as I was expecting it would be. The engine refused to fire up with my Dad behind the wheel for several minutes—an eternity, for a kid my age.

The owner had told us his Rabbit was finicky, but the frustration in my father’s eyes was hard to forget. He had some choice words for the Rabbit, words that kids aren’t supposed to hear. Oh, to be a fly on the wall when my father made a long-distance call to India about that particular VW product.

The diesel Rabbit sputtered and stalled when it was cold, behavior which was kinda terrifying with all the bigger vehicles here on the mean streets of Houston, Texas. Things fared better when it warmed up, but the engine’s 50-ish horsepower meant merging on any of the interstates was an act best reserved for the most faithful of the flock.

This was the first time I remember my clothes smelling like the fumes emanating from a tailpipe, for better or worse. To this day I wonder how long the glow plugs are supposed to last on these engines, and if this particular Rabbit needed a new set.

No matter, this question remains:

What’s the worst engine you’ve experienced?

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It’s a small job that somehow became a rite of passage for gearheads: Oil changes. The draining and refilling of engine oil is the first task that many budding wrench-turners undertake, and its certainly an important one. Like any other task in the automotive world, there are some pieces of institutional knowledge that comprise the key dos and don’ts for a smooth oil change. So let’s put these lessons learned out in the open, with the mission of shortening the process for newbies. And perhaps to reinforce some best practices for you veteran mechanics?

Don’t go crazy with warm-up

Modern oils are pretty amazing at suspending particles and contaminants, but there is still some junk that sinks down to the bottom of the pan. It needs to be stirred up to ensure it escapes when you pull the drain plug. Starting the engine and letting it idle for a minute or two is perfect for that final circulation. Run it any longer and you’re rewarded with nothing more than scalding hot oil that does nothing more than burn you. Before you pull that (drain) plug, give the engine a minute after shutting down, allowing the oil to drain to the pan from the nooks and crannies higher in the engine. But before you get underneath the vehicle to do the deed, remember you must…

Wear disposable gloves

Nitrile gloves keep you from soaking up solvents and oils into your skin. I’ve found 7mil thick to be a nice sweet spot of durable and affordable.

We all know the guy at the auto parts counter who has seriously gnarly hands from all the years being soaked in oil over decades of engine builds. That’s the visible damage. The invisible damage is sitting in your internal organs. All the hydrocarbons that get absorbed through the skin and are processed in our gut where they can’t be broken down. They end up accumulating in our body, which can cause serious health complications after years and years of chemical exposure. Preventing those issues is easy as putting on a pair of nitrile gloves. Use them even if it’s only for pulling the filter and drain plug, which you can do efficiently with…

The drain plug trick

It’s not groundbreaking, but nothing feels better than the perfect pull on a drain plug to ensure you don’t get any oil on your hand. The trick is pressure, not pulling. As you unthread the plug by hand, push in–against the bolt as in comes out–so the threads act as a seal with the outer edge. With a little practice you can get the pressure right (while not rocking the plug in the threads) and can spin the plug a full turn to feel for the “click.” That click means the bolt overlapped the last thread. With a swift motion away from the direction of oil flow, remove that now-loose plug. Presto! This can make thin viscosity oil changes much cleaner, and thick stuff like 20-50 can sometimes be spotless. In your excitement of not having a mess to clean up after draining, make sure you…

Don’t over tighten the drain plug or filter

It’s come to the point where stuck filters and stripped drain plugs are no longer a joke. Neither the filter nor plug require any real torque when installed properly. Use a small amount of oil to lube the filter’s rubber seal, then spin it into place. After the gasket seats on the housing, turn it only about three-quarter of an additional turn. Some applications might call for a full turn, but that is usually reserved for heavy duty equipment. Any tighter than what the filter manufacturers call for and you run the risk of deforming that rubber seal, which could cause oil to leak past the seal. That’s bad news. Any oil spillage is bad, so when you are filling…

Just use a funnel

The oil fill port on most engines is in that perfect spot where it looks like you could pour directly into it, except that’s a lie. They seem to be ideally located, but cleaning up if you miss (by even the smallest margin) can be a major pain. Are we really going to work so hard to spot and address leaks, to keep our engines clean, and just ruin it while doing routine maintenance?

I’m not. A funnel all but guarantees I won’t have to do any clean up after filling, even if I’m distracted or letting my 7 year-old niece do the filling. Putting in that fresh oil feels good, but be careful and…

Don’t overfill

This shows the rotating assembly without the oil pan and it’s easy to tell how oil at too high of a level would be bad.

Too much oil is just as bad as not enough. Seriously. The oil level in a wet-sump engine is carefully calculated to keep the rotating assembly from whipping through the oil. That action causes foaming, and oil foam pushed through the oiling system is the same as not having oil at all. I don’t need to tell you how bad that can be, so check the service or owners manual for the proper fill level. When done, look at the dipstick as a double check. Luckily, the empty oil containers you now have at this point are are perfect to…

Recycle your used oil

It’s never been easier to properly recycle used oil, so there is no excuse to do otherwise. Just about any auto parts store takes it, so they should be your first trip in your freshly serviced vehicle to “return” your oil. Be sure to capture oil in a non-contaminated pan so that the oil can actually be recycled. Coolant is the main enemy here, so be sure to flush your drain pan before the oil change. Luckily you don’t have to worry about how dusty or dirty the pan is, but other fluids can defeat the purpose of recycling. But before you make the trip to recycle the oil, be sure to…

Reset the computer (or write down your service date)

Modern cars have an oil life monitoring system. Whether you trust it is a personal preference, but for the sake of eliminating confusion, go ahead and reset it now. Most reset procedures involves cycling the ignition key and pressing the throttle pedal a certain number of times. The service manual will outline it, or a quick search to an online make/model specific forum will have the instructions. If your vehicles are of the manual variety, write down the oil change date in a log book. Or consider service tracker kept in the car or garage, as it keeps you from forgetting what’s been done. Not to mention thisa paper trail shows good stewardship to a potential next owner, which can mean an easier sale for more money.

In all, oil changes can be simple and rewarding for newbies and DIY enthusiasts alike. Following these best practices will not only keep your vehicle happy, but also make the experience better for you each time. Do you have something specific you add to this process? Let us know about it in the comments below.

***

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The fuse of my personal ticking time bomb was a 28-cent nut. Although that rudimentary fastener’s specific job will never be known, it was most likely one of 32 little soldiers tasked with holding the valve covers in place. This nut was originally one of the least important parts of the entire car, but it had worked its way into a position to ambush the 2.9-liter Dino V-8. That motor, you might recall, came in the 1975 Ferrari 308 GT4 that I’ve been restoring—and sometimes writing about here.

(Last year, editor-in-chief Larry Webster set forth on a bold path to fix up the 1975 Ferrari Dino 308 GT4 he bought for $25,000. He wasn’t sure our fine readers would be all that interested in hearing about it, but your vigorous responses proved otherwise. The last installment in the Dino article series published this past February, when the Ferrari had its first test drive. –EW.)

About the time of my last update, I separated the engine from the body and sent the two large assemblies to specialists. The body needed rust repair and new paint. The engine, which I got running after it had been sitting for 20 years, seemed fine to me. I changed the timing belts and paid a neighborhood kid $200 to scrape and clean up the grime. I planned to simply reinstall it in the freshly painted body. Our Marketplace editor, Colin Comer, called me a fool and said I should have the engine rebuilt while it was out. Easy for him to say—he’s not paying the bills.

Comer persuaded me, though. He happens to be friends with the founder and owner of a Ferrari shop near Milwaukee called GT Motorsports. Last December, I carted the engine there and met Al Pinkowsky, who opened his one-man garage in the mid-1990s and has worked on the Italian cars ever since.

I’ve found that recommendations from people I trust are by far the best way to find the artisans to do this work. Pinkowsky quickly discovered that the aluminum intake manifolds—they connect the Weber carburetors to the engine—had corroded around the steel bolts that hold them in place. One technique to break these parts free is to heat them, let them cool, and then repeat. There’s a risk of damaging the manifolds, however, which cost about five grand for used replacements. This is where you want someone like Pinkowsky holding the torch.

The scenario reminded me why I was hesitant to rebuild the engine in the first place. It ran fine, so let sleeping dogs—and stuck manifolds—lie. Also, there was no way Pinkowsky could predict the total cost for the job. He didn’t know the degree of stuckness until he started. Eventually, he had to break off the studs and have a machine shop drill out the remains. You can hear the cash register ringing, right?

In April, Pinkowsky texted me: “Finally got the manifolds off!” The parts were so gross with corrosion, it became obvious that any sort of future engine work beyond routine maintenance would have required removing the engine. Might as well go through the struggle now.

Then he found the valve bucket. This part is a small steel cup that sits between the top of the intake valve and the cam lobe. It moves as the valve opens and closes. That little nut, which probably fell into the valvetrain when the cover was off, had wedged under the bucket and nearly destroyed it. Who knows how long that nut lived there and what havoc it could have caused.

Meanwhile, another specialist, Dave North of Magneti Marelli Distributor Restoration, refurbished the two distributors. I have to admit that I only have a partial understanding of how these things work, so when North asked if I wanted to stay with the mechanical points or switch to an electronic replacement, I didn’t know how to answer. Since I’m always paranoid about being stranded on some remote back road, I stuck with the points under the fantasy that perhaps I could fix them. North supplied an exhaustive report of the origin and calibration of the two distributors.

Last September, I returned to Pinkowsky’s place and handed over a $20,000 check, which I considered a more than fair price for the expertise and the hours of work he put into my engine. That price included all of the machine work and a list of parts saddled with Ferrari prices. The seal kit alone, which includes gaskets, O-rings, and main seals, was $1500. Considering that I paid $25,000 for the car, I’m close to doubling what I spent on it.

I haven’t even covered the bodywork, paint, or interior work yet. These projects are not for the squeamish.

This article first appeared in Hagerty Drivers Club magazine. Click here to subscribe and join the club.

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To honor the uniquely British craft of this shop, we have retained a U.K. vocabulary but adjusted spelling to reflect an American lexicon. —Ed. 

It’s often said that Britain no longer makes stuff. Yes, we make Japanese cars, and bits and pieces of electronickry, but not your good old Victorian fire, smoke, and hammers type of making stuff. But a visit to visit Grainger & Worrall in Bridgnorth, Shropshire, will convince naysayers otherwise. Here you will find cauldrons of molten aluminum, shiny silver like mercury at 750 degrees centigrade (1382° F), ready to be poured into molds that when cooled will be broken open to reveal anything from intricate castings to large engine blocks.

Jay Schofield, head of sales and marketing at Grainger & Worrall, is giving Hagerty a guided tour of this incredible place. A large number of the world’s car companies knock on G&W’s door, many of whom require utmost discretion from the company. Not all of them, however—and many of the parts made by G&W are not difficult for the knowledgeable enthusiast to recognize.

For example, we are looking at a crankcase which has sixteen cylinders arranged in a W configuration: It is clearly destined for the rear of a Bugatti Chiron. Grainger & Worrall has made all of the engine cases for Bugatti from the Veyron onwards. But the hypercar maker is not the only customer from the Volkswagen Group.

It triggers warm patriotic feelings when Schofield points to rows of Porsche flat-six crankcases on pallets. They’re for Porsche’s GT-series engines, such as those fitted to the GT3 and GT3 RS and the new Cayman GT4 RS.

McLaren is another long-term customer for whom G&W has cast V-8 blocks since the Woking sports-car concern launched its MP4-12C over a decade ago. Later, when we visit the enormous, new machine shop that was opened only five years ago, we will see rows of V-6 engine blocks that are the heart of the new hybrid engine that’s going in the new McLaren Artura and, no doubt future, models. These blocks are not to be confused with a similar, V-6 crankcase that is made here for Maserati, for the Modenese company’s MC20 supercar.

The real secrets hidden within G&W’s substantial premises are the multitude of commissions from some of the world’s best-known names in motorsport. Schofield isn’t allowed to let us sneak even a couple of millimeters of nose between the doors of the motorsport department. That said, I have visited many F1 teams over the years. I can recognize the odd F1 engine part when I see it and have already spotted a wooded crate containing what look suspiciously like water pumps for an F1 engine. No doubt a man called Lewis would recognize them too. The two-wheeled world is also no stranger to G&W with several Moto GP teams using the skills available within these walls.

Grainger & Worrall was founded just after the war by Vernon Grainger and his brother-in-law Charles Worrall. Although the company retains the original name it is now entirely owned by the Grainger family and is run by Vernon’s grandsons James, Edward, and Matthew. And the family really does own the company; they’re not bankrolled by some big-shot financiers who would think a capstan lathe was a brand of cigarette.

Eighty percent of the castings are in aluminum using around 40 different alloys. The remaining 20 per cent of the work is in ferrous metal. One such product is a V-8, cast-iron crankcase that carries a Ford logo and is used in NASCAR racing. G&W has been supplying blocks for various teams involved in the American stock car series. Before they did so, teams used to get through around 1000 blocks per season, but now, thanks to the Bridgnorth company’s skills, only a quarter of that number are used.

The foundry or casting departments are split into two; one is for low-volume production and the other is for series production. In the first we see half-a-dozen large molds that are used to cast V-8 blocks for Bentley. These blocks will be held as spares for the now out-of-production 6.75-liter, pushrod engine. Each mold for an engine of this size comprises about a dozen or more individual molds bonded together to form the whole. The molds themselves are created from patterns. Patterns used to be made from hardwood, a material that required a combination of great skill and much time.

In the past it could take six months to produce a new component. Today, using techniques similar to 3D printing, a prototype pattern can be made in a matter of hours. Once series-production is started, patterns are made out of a composite material that is CNC-machined. The color of the material used denotes the lifespan of the pattern, with a dark, ruddy brown indicating a pattern that will be able to produce thousands of molds.

In the series-production casting area, robots are used to pour the molten metal into the molds; but in the low volume area, which in truth is the more interesting place, people are doing the work. Thirty-five years ago, I worked in an iron foundry in a placed called Toowoomba in Queensland, Australia. Tough work: A blast furnace feet away brewing up iron and steel at over 1500° centigrade (2732° F), hotter for high-strength steel, and in ambient temperatures approaching 40° C (104° F). We cast stuff like lorry brake drums, master cylinders for cars, and lots more. Health and safety was minimal in those days …

For small components the molten alloy can be spooned into the molds with a large ladle, but for these big, V-8 Bentley engine blocks, the cauldron itself is lifted by an electric hoist then carefully tipped into the top of the mold. With a large component such as these crankcases, it takes several hours for the alloy to have cooled enough for the mold to be broken away. The sand used in the mold, a special type, will be recycled and used again, the epoxy that it contains to join the various sections burnt away during the process.

The finished block, cleaned of sand, will now go to G&W’s machine shop. The company has always had machining facilities but five years ago opened a giant new facility just a couple of hundred meters from the foundries. G&W offers a variety of services to customers from complete machining to, say, simply milling the mating faces of a cylinder block. Everywhere you look are state-of-the-art CNC machines, each capable of carrying out a multitude of tasks, automatically selecting tools with which to do so.

There’s another department, far removed from the fire and brimstone of the casting works and the swarf and machine oil of the machining department, that’s just as fascinating. This is the design department, responsible for prototyping and, in many cases, reverse-engineering components. Among G&W’s OEM clients are those who make “continuation” versions of their back catalog of classics. I’m sure you can guess the names and models of a few.

Here I’m told something so remarkable that I struggle to get my head around it. At a desk, an engineer is running a program that simulates the flow of molten metal through and around a mold. The goal is to have the metal enter the mold and fill it at a consistent temperature. Hot or cold spots are to be prevented, as these can lead to weaknesses or failure points within the part. In the modern world we’re used to computers being able to carry out tremendously complicated calculations in seconds. Get this: Although the computer on which the simulation program is running is very powerful, it can take it almost as long as a week to complete all the simulation required for a complicated part.

One thing has been worrying me, as we’ve been walking around looking at fantastically intricate engine parts and wonderful assemblies like the Bugatti W-16 cylinder blocks. What happens to Grainger & Worrall after the electrification revolution that’s taking over the car world?

Schofield leads me to a part of the new machine shop where there are pallets of large-diameter, alluvium castings. “These are electric motor units for a large, U.K.-based OEM,” he explains. There’s more: Schofield is particularly proud of the fact that Tesla used G&W for prototype casting for the huge, front-end assembly used in the Model 3 and Model Y. This is no secret, as there’s a complete example of the structure in the company’s reception area.

Grainger & Worrall is one of the most fascinating establishments that I’ve ever visited. It is a place of remarkable contrasts. A place where the past lives alongside the future. No better example is the brand-new, Rolls-Royce Merlin cylinder heads that the company has produced for owners of Spitfires and Hurricanes and other warbirds that use the iconic, V-12 aero engine, and the prototyping work being carried out for the electric cars that will be in showrooms within a few years.

Next time someone grumbles about disappearing skills in this country, it will give me great pleasure to tell them about Grainger & Worrall, just one example of our automotive industry delivering world-class work.

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Via Hagerty UK

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Michael writes:

What is the best way to seal a steel rocker arm stud in an aluminum head when the threads open to the intake port?

Sajeev answers:

I’m tempted to suggest that only someone with experience building the engine in question can answer this, but odds are there’s general information that applies here. And to insure that we’re all on the same page, here’s a graphic representation of the issue, using a cutaway of a GM LS-series engine.

Basically, if you port these heads, you will see threads. And exposed threads, when met with engine vacuum, might create contamination between the incoming air and the crankcase air (between the cylinder head and the valve cover). Simply put, the threads must now also be air tight.

Your best bet (only bet?) is to use a thread sealer on the rocker arm’s studs. As mentioned in this forum post, using a thread locker like the ones from Permatex or Loctite is the way to go, not to mention you might already have it in your toolbox. The blue thread locker is good for 300+ degree temperatures and is easily removable. The red thread locker is a lot stronger, but you’ll need a lot of muscle (or heat from a torch) to get the studs off again. And, while I mistakenly assumed red is mandatory, the general consensus is that blue is adequate here.

That said, this might be a good time to discuss torque specs. If the aluminum head in question is a factory part (like the LS head, above) the specifications listed in the repair manual are probably fine. If these are aftermarket heads, it behooves you to call the tech support line from the manufacturer to see what torque spec is needed, especially because of the exposed threads (presumably from porting).

Too bad I have no experience in this matter, only tangential knowledge gathered from watching other people soup up small-block Ford and Chevy mills. So, Hagerty Community, if you have firsthand knowledge, we’d love to hear from you!

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! Keep in mind this is a weekly column, so if you need an expedited answer, please tell me in your email.

The post Piston Slap: Sealing threads in ported heads? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The latest gasoline truck engine from General Motors, its 2.7-liter turbocharged L3B inline-four, is taking on a couple of important roles at Chevrolet and GMC. For 2019, the direct-injected four-cylinder replaced GM’s 4.3-liter V-6 as the base engine in the Silverado and Sierra, producing a respectable 310 hp at 5600 rpm and 348 lb-ft of torque at 1500 rpm. Not only did it improve on the naturally aspirated V-6’s 285 hp and 305 lb-ft of torque, the new engine, combined with the upgrades from the new-generation pickup that was wrapped around it, led to an improvement in fuel economy.

For 2022, the engine got an important upgrade. Thanks to improved hardware and a revised tune, the L3B now makes the same power but torque kicks in hard with 430 lb-ft at 3000 rpm—an increase of nearly 100 lb-ft—with a torque curve that retains its start low in the rev range.

GM, which sells more light-duty trucks in North America than any other OEM, is clearly confident in the L3B. The four-cylinder will be the sole powerplant for the upcoming third-generation Colorado and Canyon that were unveiled earlier this summer. In those mid-size applications, the engine will replace three outgoing mills: the 2.5-liter inline-four gasoline engine, 3.6-liter V-6 gasoline engine, and 2.8-liter turbodiesel four.

To become better acquainted with this new powerplant, we asked Kevin Luchansky, assistant chief engineer for the 2.7-liter, about its development and its recent upgrades. Mainly, how does it crank out such diesel-esque torque?

Although the L3B is also used in the Cadillac CT4-V sport sedan, Luchansky told us that the turbo-four was conceived from the beginning to be capable of hard work. “It’s a purpose-built, turbocharged truck engine. Every detail was designed as such.”

Don’t feel too bad for Cadillac; GM’s pushrod V-8s were developed as truck engines as well, and that worked out quite well for the CTS-V.

Trucks need to go through the wringer and haul heavy loads, often pulling several times their curb weight up steep grades. Full-throttle performance for extended durations is non-negotiable, and they also must get those heavy loads moving from a dead stop. “Power is super important in a sports car,” Luchansky told us, “for a truck you really want low-end torque.”

The way the L3B’s turbo delivers low-end grunt is perfect for a truck. Luchansky explained that a specific dyno test, used in development to measure turbo response, holds the engine at 1500 rpm and measures the engine from no load to wide-open throttle. The dyno then records how long it takes before the truck to produce 90 percent of its max torque. For the L3B, it only takes 2.5 seconds. That’s the kind of response you especially appreciate when towing, but it helps every time you need to pass or dust somebody at a stoplight. In Cadillac tune, the engine produces an extra 15 horses (325 hp) thanks to premium fuel and more aggressive timing. Engineers prioritized a quick spool-up and low-end grunt, the downside of which is that the turbo runs out of steam in the upper revs.

For those worried about turbocharger longevity, all of the engine’s systems are designed around it. As Luchansky said, “You keep a turbo alive by feeding it really clean oil, and keeping it cool. As long as you do that, the turbo should last a really, really long time.”

One of the most intriguing aspects of the L3B is that its bore centerline is offset from its crankshaft centerline. When viewed from the front, a line drawn through the bore centers would miss the crank centerline by about nine millimeters. In our case, in North America, the bores are offset to the driver’s side. It sounds a bit strange at first, but the offset allows the connecting rod to be closer to vertical when the piston is pushing down with its peak cylinder pressure. The configuration reduces side-loading on the bore, which means less friction on the piston skirts. It also helps the bore stay cylindrical.

Tough as it is to imagine, even something as sturdy as a chunk of cast metal can move around when subjected to the kinds of cylinder pressure generated inside a turbocharged engine. Luchansky put it into terms easy to understand, “It’s kind of like a bridge when you drive over it.” The metal can flex a bit, before springing back to its original position. “If you’re putting that much load into the block, it can make the bore oval.” A more cylindrical bore allows the rings to do their job and keep combustion gasses up top where they’re doing work, and out of the crankcase where they dirty the oil. This isn’t the first engine to employ this tactic; the first-gen Honda Insight did the same and Luchansky noted that Yamaha also built a motorcycle engine with similar geometry. GM’s 1.5-liter L3T and 2.0-liter LSY engines also feature offset bores.

Before the adoption of offset bores, engine developers might design an engine with longer rods in order to reduce piston side loading. However, for any given deck height there’s only so much room to work with, as the wrist pin bore can only move up so far before it interferes with the ring lands. For decades, truck engines have used increased deck height to get longer rods and allow for extra displacement when combined with a longer stroke, but efficient packaging in new vehicles is more critical than ever. GM’s engineers were able to keep the L3B compact while still delivering on performance. Just think of the offset bore as a substitute for a longer rod and the turbo as extra displacement.

The rotating assembly of the L3B was built with toughness in mind, as the aluminum pistons feature a cast iron insert to locate the top ring and improve cylinder sealing, while the connecting rods and crankshaft are steel forgings. The original iteration of the L3B featured cylinder bores with more material on the thrust side, to shore up the part of the block that takes the most abuse. Its cast-in-place cylinder liners are made from spiny lock centrifugal nodular cast iron. The liners are spun as they’re cast, forcing iron into the pores of the refractory material used to shape them. The process creates a texture that not only keeps the liners bonded to the aluminum block that’s cast around them but also provides an increased surface area for the iron to shed heat into the aluminum.

All of those attributes remain in the upgraded L3B that debuted in 2022 Silverados and Sierras, but to keep up with the increased cylinder pressure, the new engines feature an upgraded block casting, with an extra kilogram of aluminum webbing shoring up the outside of the block. The crankshaft was also retooled, as the new forging uses widened crank arms that improved stiffness in the front bay of the crankshaft by 30 percent. Not only did the improvements allow for the new tune that adds a heap of torque, but it reduced the NVH of the engine.

Luchansky knows that there’s a lot riding on the L3B, and he also knows that its diesel-like output may have its skeptics. He addredssed the question we know many of you are asking: How can this engine make that kind of output and live long term? “It’s details like [the block casting and the crankshaft], and 50 others like it.”

Luchansky was especially excited about the chain tensioners used on the new L3B. There is a chain at the back of the engine running the balance shaft and oil pump, and a chain at the front of the engine drives the camshafts. “This engine had to be reliable, no questions.” Luchansy said. As such, the engineering team sought out the best, most reliable suppliers for parts. For example, the pressure relief valves on the chain tensioners. When there’s a higher engine load, the oil pump responds with additional oil pressure to keep the bearing surfaces supplied with clean oil. The timing chain doesn’t need the extra help, so the pressure relief valve bleeds off just a bit of oil pressure to maintain proper load without additional wear on the tensioner.

We’ve only spent a brief amount of time with the recently upgraded L3B—in a crew-cab Silverado, which left us rather impressed. What we’re really looking forward to is what it can do in the Colorado and Canyon, which should be gearing up for production shortly. Mid-size shoppers will likely savor a Colorado and Canyon with low-end grunt of the L3B rather than the 3.6-liter V-6’s higher revs. Perhaps this engine, which is an improvement in nearly every metric over the three powerplants it replaces, proves to be the jack-of-all-trades GM hopes.

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark us.

The post GM Engineer: L3B turbo-four is a true truck engine appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Would you pay 99 cents to have a computer park your car in a crowded city? Stellantis CTO Ned Curic said that customers might pay that amount for a single autonomous parking job, especially if it was an added fee to an existing parking charge. Volkswagen also envisions a future where autonomous driving is available as a kind of in-app purchase where you pay a dollar to have your car drive itself for your 50-mile journey to the grandparents’ place. Those are just two of the micro transactions currently being talked about.

Perhaps you heard that BMW recently started selling heated seat subscriptions in the UK for $18 per month. BMW USA next took pains to note that subscription heated seats, at least, weren’t coming to the U.S.

Buying digital features in cars is nothing new. Tesla offered a “pay-to-unlock” function in certain Model S vehicles more than six years ago, where cars sold with a claimed 70 kWh battery actually had 75 kWh batteries installed. Buyers could pay $3250 to “unlock” access to the extra battery capacity. It also offered free month-long trials of Autopilot, a technology that, at the time, cost $2500 to unlock at purchase or $3000 after purchase.

Free-to-play video games with in-app purchases, generally of the cosmetic variety, are hugely popular. Fortnite, Apex Legends, Warzone, and Rocket League are all free to download and play, and you only need to pay if you want to change the visuals of the game. Want to play Fortnite as Spider-Man or Robocop or Obi-Wan Kenobi? You can do that … for a price. My kids have already trained me to accept this.

Will drivers, however, accept in-app purchases and subscription fees and cosmetic upgrades for their cars? Opinionated automotive commentator Peter DeLorenzo calls these subscription services poison for the car industry. I am torn. According to Edmunds, the length of the average car loan is now 70 months. By the time a 70-month note is paid off, the now-six-year-old car enters the stage of potential major upkeep costs like shocks, tires, brakes, etc. So, there is rarely a point in our driving lives when we’re not paying for a car. I’m sure many of you have stories of driving beaters for free, but that’s the exception. If we’re always paying anyway, would an a la carte monthly fee be so bad? While the Tesla battery arrangement feels wrong to me, I’m okay with only paying for heated seats for the cold months.

One subscription I’d strongly consider is an engine lease program for micro sprints. My son and I are racing them this summer. They’re glorified go karts with 600cc motorcycle engines. I bought us two aged examples—for about five grand each— to slide around nearby Jackson Speedway.

My son is 13 and during a practice session last week, his first time in the car, the engine blew in catastrophic fashion. The internal parts were so unhappy that they punched a hole in the side of the engine.

What happened? Hard to say, but I’m pretty sure the previous owner, who told me the car was ready for the track, had not properly bled the cooling system. Whatever. I tried to make the best of the situation and also elicit help finding a replacement by displaying the engine at our paddock stall.

Last weekend was my first time competing at a Saturday night dirt track. The scene was everything I love about motorsports: A mix of families and people all gathered for the love of driving and competition. These small-town tracks are often fixtures of the community. I’ve come across so many in my travels that I wondered if the tracks served as de facto town halls. I posed the question during an editorial meeting and Cameron Neveu not only agreed but also knew which track would best illustrate the point. His dispatch from Iowa’s Knoxville raceway reveals that the tracks are vital to many folks beyond the gearheads.

Our blown motor on display seemed to scare off more folks than invite them to introduce themselves. I watched people walk by and give it wide berth, as if it was radioactive. Bad luck, after all, might be contagious. I did find a new engine and will install it this weekend.

I hope my son enjoys the driving as much as I do. I have a lot to learn. The dirt track driving is vastly unpredictable compared to the road-course racing I’m used to. I lack the experience to know what fast feels like. I was so overwhelmed that even if I had a lap timer in the car, I wouldn’t have had the spare attention to check it. I gauged my speed off of the cars around me.  I qualified 11th out of 13 cars. I did not care because charging up to the corner, aggressively pitching the car sideways, and then floating sideways through the turn was ridiculously fun. I’m hooked.

In other news, a 909-hp Dodge Challenger is rumored to be in the works, which would further cement the Challenger as the car that does not age (I’m searching for its secrets and will share if I find them).

Citing concerns from the blind and those with impaired vision, NHTSA recently rejected a 2019 proposal that would have allowed automakers to install “any number of compliant sounds” on their EVs and hybrids. This means we won’t be allowed to make Teslas sound like five-oh Mustangs. Sigh.

Get out and drive this weekend!

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The post Never Stop Driving #10: One dollar parking and blown engines appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Today is 4/26—a calendar date that conjures up other notable 426s in history, namely Mopar’s vaunted V-8s. On this date we’ve previously heralded the short-lived but well-respected 426 Hemi, but that wasn’t the first V-8 of such displacement to come from Chrysler Corp. Before the street Hemi bowed in 1966, and even before Richard Petty used a 426 Hemi to take the checkered flag at the 1964 Daytona 500, another 426 was top dog among Mopar racers: the Max Wedge. Often overshadowed by its big-headed younger sibling, the Wedge is worthy of praise all on its own.

There’s no denying that Hemi engines offer a lot of benefits over the more common inline-valve competitors, but they do have drawbacks. Pushrod Hemi engines require a relatively more complicated valvetrain and machining process. They’re also large and heavy, reducing some of the inherent benefits of a pushrod design. When replacing its early Dodge, DeSoto, and Chrysler Hemi engines of the 1950s, Chrysler Corporation developed a big-block V-8 architecture that used a more common wedge-shaped combustion chamber. The B family of V-8s introduced in 1958 included 350- and 361-cubic-inch displacements, both with 3.375-inch strokes. In 1959, a tall-deck variant, dubbed RB, brought the capacity for a 3.75-inch stroke, which was used in all subsequent factory RB engines. Initially offered in 383 and 413-cubic-inch displacements, the RB V-8 would provide the horsepower for a wide range of Mopar vehicles, from the sleek Chrysler 300H to the stripped-down coupes that competed on track and at the dragstrip.

Starting with the 413 in 1962, Mopar built race-only versions of the RB intended to take on 400+ cubic-inch offerings from Ford, Chevrolet, and Pontiac—the latter of which was cooking up a mean 421. With high compression ratios (11.0:1 and 13.5:1), fortified rotating assemblies, big cam lobes, gorgeous cast exhaust manifolds, a cross-ram intake, and high-flow cylinder heads, Chrysler dubbed its maximum-effort competition engine “Max Wedge”. In 1962, the 413 Max Wedge offered as much as 420 horsepower if built with the higher of the two compression ratios offered. When installed in Plymouths it was referred to as the Super Stock 413. When bolted between the frame rails of a Dodge it was known as the Ramcharger 413, in honor of the so-nicknamed drag racing engineers who had helped spearhead Mopar’s performance push.

For the 1963 season, the NHRA instituted a displacement limit of 7.0 liters for many of the factory drag racing classes, including Super Stock. Mopar was poised to take advantage. After just one year of racing, the Max Wedge 413 made way for the Max Wedge 426 that used the same 3.75-inch stroke and combined it with a 4.25-inch bore. Power in the 11:1 426 was rated at 415 horses, which was five more than in the 413. The 13.5:1 engine got a similar bump, for a total of 425 hp.

As if the huge power from these big-blocks wasn’t enough, Mopar put them in cars that featured lightweight sheet metal and bumpers. Not only did they hold their own against Super Duty Pontiacs and 427 Fords in the early and mid-’60s, but they continue to set records in vintage racing classes to this day.

If you’d like to see one in fantastic condition, be sure to read this feature story from last year on a 1963 Savoy Max Wedge that’s likely the finest of its kind. It’s worth a second look, especially on 4/26.

Check back with us tomorrow to celebrate the 427 on 4/27!

The post On 4/26, we celebrate the other 426 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

John writes:

To prime or not to prime? This is a discussion that is still not settled among even the best engine builders. We use much assembly lube to protect the engine upon start-up. What happens to the lube when we prime the engine? Should we prime the complete engine before the initial start, making sure oil is coming out of every rocker? Some builders want us to prime for several minutes while we turn the crankshaft. Some want us to only prime until we see oil pressure and some believe the assembly lube is enough. Any thoughts?

Sajeev answers:

I doubt this will ever be settled? For me, it’s about risk aversion as a new motor is a significant expenditure. We all have different risk tolerances, and mine are pretty low after getting burned by a poorly assembled motor in Project Valentino, I lean toward some amount of oil pressure building throughout the engine before the first engine start up. (Not that oil pressure was my engine’s problem, but that’s a whole ’nother story.)

Let’s consider another angle to risk aversion: oil changes. More to the point, can you minimize the amount of time an engine runs without oil flowing through its veins? I am one of those nut jobs that not only fills a new filter with oil before installation, but I also rotate the filter at an angle to let all the air escape the pleats. After turning the filter a few times, you can add even more oil to a new oil filter for maximum risk aversion. Provided you don’t have to turn the filter to install it, but I digress …

But oil changes and priming a brand new engine with oil are two different beasts. So first off, let’s get everyone up to speed on what is involved with priming an engine with oil.

Well then! Priming the system on a fresh motor isn’t quite the cake walk of a primed filter in an oil change, but ensuring the system is primed eliminates variables in your build. The last thing you want to see is performance issues minutes after installing a fresh engine, but sometimes the engine itself necessitates the extra work. Not all designs are created equal, and turbocharged examples (video above) are more likely to need oil system priming to ensure the turbos aren’t starved of lubrication.

Yup, there isn’t a good answer. Unless you are risk averse, and then you absolutely should prime the system before startup. If you aren’t, just do whatever the engine builder suggests. And if you’re an engine builder, you really need to chime in below in the comments!

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: Primed for success, or does it even matter? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

America’s traditional performance path starts with a smoking heap of piston displacement under the hood. With the arrival of the 2020 Chevrolet Corvette, a.k.a. C8—a mid-engine first, after 67 years of front-motor Vettes—a radically different strategy emerged. To endow Chevy’s halo car with true supercar verve, the traditional combo of pushrods, long-stroke geometry, and cast-iron block was ditched to create the technologically advanced powerplant presented here.

Later this year, those wise enough to bribe their local dealer with an early deposit will take delivery of a Corvette Z06: 670 hp and a rousing, 8600-rpm redline. The LT6 V-8 makes it happen. Let’s dive in.

Gemini: The new small-block

If you’re lucky enough to see a ’23 Z06 in person, ask to peek under the hood. The 54 rocket insignias GM engineers hid around engine represent the “Gemini” code name used during the project’s eight-year development. The symbol carries multiple meanings. Early Corvettes were admired and driven by the first NASA astronauts. Also, Gemini is Latin for “twins,” a nod to this engine’s double overhead cams and prominent pair of intake plenums.

Only one dimension—the 4.4-inch cylinder-bore spacing—made the leap from the five previous generations of Chevy small-blocks. While the LT6 shares no parts with its predecessors, that carryover spacing provides a historical link to engines that have powered Chevrolets since 1955. The 104.25-millimeter bore is one of the largest cylinder dimensions ever used in a Chevy small-block, while the 80-millimeter stroke is one of the shortest. The combination yields a modest 5.5-liter piston displacement, which also happens to be ideal for the Corvette C8.Rs that compete against Porsches and Ferraris at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. The LT6’s deck height (the distance from crankshaft center to cylinder-head sealing surface) is ten percent shorter than the deck height of the base C8’s 6.2-liter LT2 V-8. The new block’s mass is 16 percent lower. Dividing the Z06’s 670 hp by its 333 cubic-inch displacement delivers a nice round ratio of two horsepower for every cubic inch.

Flat-crank fashion

The LT6’s signature feature is a crankshaft with four throws located in a single plane. This leaves those throws 180 degrees apart—the layout is colloquially called “flat”—versus the usual 90 degrees of a traditional, “cross-plane” V-8. This arrangement is standard in racing and Italian supercar V-8s but rare in American engines. A century ago, Cadillac moved from 180-degree crankshafts to 90-degree units in order to reduce shaking forces, and most other V-8 makers quickly followed suit.

Flat cranks bring significant advantages, one of which is significantly less rotating inertia, especially when a short stroke is part of the deal. Perhaps the biggest benefit is that flat cranks enable spacing the four exhaust strokes in each of a V-8’s two cylinder banks 180 degrees apart. Thanks to LT6’s ultra-short stroke and light connecting rods, this crank’s counterweights are lighter and its rotating inertia is significantly reduced.

The loping sound commonly associated with American V-8s comes from how some of those exhaust strokes are staged at 90-degree intervals. Flat cranks increase that spacing to 180 degrees, maximizing scavenging—the effect where exhaust gas from one cylinder actually sucks spent gases out of an adjoining cylinder’s exhaust port, aiding flow and efficiency. The Z06’s tri-Y exhaust headers further exploit this effect. The evenly spaced combustion pulses also benefit intake air flow.

Flat-crank V-8s respond righteously to every jab of the throttle; their firing pulses, which alternate between banks, help give these engines a banshee wail at high rpm. To make the LT6’s crankshaft as light as possible, GM bores unnecessary metal out of the rod and main bearing areas. While flat-plane engines offer increased vibration, Chevrolet engineers claim this shortcoming has been minimized by securely attaching ancillary equipment such as the alternator, and by carefully tuning powertrain-to-chassis mounting systems.

During development, GM engineers discovered that vibration was causing the LT6’s oil filter to unscrew itself. That issue was remedied by locating the filter element inside a substantial aluminum canister, instead of the more common spin-on arrangement. The LT6’s eight-quart, molded-plastic oil-storage reservoir is also mounted to the block through rubber isolators, to protect it from vibration damage.

Doing the splits

The LT6’s 90-degree cylinder block is split horizontally, assembled from two separate castings that mate at the crankshaft centerline. The cylinder case and the oil sump are both made of A319 aluminum alloy, which is heat-treated after casting. A special talcum additive smoothes areas in touch with coolant and oil. Four vertical bolts secure each of the five main-bearing caps. The crank is forged steel, and the Austrian-sourced connecting rods are forged titanium. Super-short-skirt, forged-aluminum pistons are supplied by CP Carrillo, a highly respected racing-parts vendor. Piston rings and cam followers are coated with a friction-reducing material made of diamond-like carbon.

Shrunk-in-place cast-iron liners assure long-haul cylinder-bore durability. They’re arranged in a “Siamese” configuration—the outside of each adjoining liners touch—so there’s no lateral coolant flow except through small, drilled passages near the block-to-head interface.

The LT6 has a multi-purpose intermediate shaft rotating between the cylinder banks just above the crank. This shaft is driven off the crankshaft by short chain, and it, in turn, drives a secondary chain running to the cams in each cylinder head. Lobes on the shaft activate two 5000-psi fuel pumps located in the engine’s valley, or vee. Another chain from the nose of the crank drives the seven oil pumps. One of those pumps distributes lubrication to the main bearings, the four camshafts, and the cylinder-bore oil squirters. Others evacuate the four sealed crankcase bays and drain-down cavities located at the front and the rear of the block.

Scrapers cast into the block in close proximity to the four counterweights skim oil off the crankshaft. The partial vacuum created by scavenging the lower crankcase in such a manner reduces the windage losses created when a crank spins through oil mist. Only half a quart of oil is circulating around the engine at any given time, even at peak rpm.

The head of the matter

LT6 heads are cast in A356 aluminum and heat-treated. Intake and exhaust ports are fully CNC-machined, as are the 12.5:1 combustion chambers. Each of the four valves above each cylinder is operated by a short finger follower located between each valve stem and the corresponding cam lobe. Oil squirters there keep all contact points well-lubed. Intake valves are titanium to save weight, while the stainless-steel exhaust valves are sodium-filled to help evacuate heat. Cast-iron valve seats are fitted for longevity. Direct fuel injectors are located outboard of the exhaust valves to promote air-fuel mixing as air tumbles into the combustion chamber. Each injector features six spray holes, laser-drilled to optimize the fuel mist pattern.

Variable valve timing improves both around-town drivability and high-rpm output. The timing of the intake valves can be adjusted by up to 55 (crankshaft) degrees, while the exhaust valves can be retimed up to 24 degrees. Two coil springs per valve prevent float at ultra-high rpm.

GM uses a robotic system to measure the thickness of each lash shim for the engine’s 32 valves. The engine assembler at the Corvette’s manufacturing plant, in Bowling Green, Kentucky, installs a shim under each finger follower; thanks to fastidious lubrication and minimal wear, GM claims that this setting will last the life of the engine. If a lash adjustment becomes necessary for any reason, the work can be accomplished by removing the camshafts.

An exotic breather box

In order to produce its stupendous horsepower, the LT6 must inhale massive quantities of air. The two-piece intake manifold residing atop this V-8 brings to mind the black crown of an evil prince. Made of injection-molded, glass-reinforced nylon and stiffened with molded-in ribs, this manifold lives just above a pair of 87-millimeter throttle bodies. Each of the manifold’s two intake plenums has an internal volume of 5.5 liters, coincidentally identical to the LT6’s displacement. That huge size, crucial to power production, is enabled by the fact that mid-engine Corvettes carry their engines low, behind the driver; unlike on front-engine Vettes, C8 intake manifolds can be quite sizable without inhibiting driver visibility.

The good stuff is inside. Each plenum contains four molded intake-port extensions resembling small trumpets. Between the plenums live three servo-operated “communicator” valves; they take advantage of the pressure waves created inside the plenums every time an intake valve opens or closes, helping maximize engine output. Two of those valves share a common shaft, opening and closing in sync. The third one operates independently. One valve opens at around 2000 rpm. The others open on a schedule that varies with driving mode and rpm. All valves close shortly before the engine’s 8400-rpm power peak.

The net result: Four distinct communicator operating events inflate the LT6’s torque curve from 3500 rpm to 8600 rpm. The cylinders receive greater-than-atmospheric air pressure while running, with air volume exceeding piston displacement by 10 percent.

That constitutes 110-percent volumetric efficiency, virtually unheard of in naturally aspirated engines. This is essentially supercharging without the complexity of a crank- or exhaust-driven blower.

A landmark, for a landmark era

The LT6’s torque curve is essentially a flat line, with a subtle pip located at the engine’s 460 lb-ft, 6300-rpm peak. Combined with the astounding 670-hp at 8400 rpm, that stands as a new record for naturally aspirated V-8 engines, eclipsing the 622-hp achieved by Mercedes-Benz with its 6.2-liter, V-8-powered AMG Black Series coupes of 2013–2015. Energized by this new V-8, Z06 C8s are expected to click off the 0–60-mph run in just 2.6 seconds.

There’s more good news: The LT6’s son will be aimed at the upcoming Corvette ZR-1 and soon follow. That monster, logically labeled LT7, will offer twin turbos and at least 800 hp.

Given how the sun is setting on the internal-combustion era, it seems fitting to drag out the finest champagne and toast the arrival of these remarkable V-8s.

The post LT6 Breakdown: The Z06’s 670-hp V-8 is a landmark achievement appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Exactly when the spark sparks, lights a fire in the combustion chamber and makes some power and noise is important because these things take time. The timing of exactly when that spark happens is important to how the engine runs, its performance, fuel consumption, and crucially, its well-being.

On a modern classic with a distributorless electronic ignition system, a crank sensor usually controls spark timing by sending a signal to the engine ECU (electronic control unit). By knowing the exact angle of the crank in degrees, the ECU software can fire the spark for each cylinder at the right time. That means there’s no setting of the ignition timing to do, as it’s controlled by the ECU software (known as an ignition map).

On older classics with a distributor, the timing needs to be set and checked periodically to make sure it’s still correct. As a reminder, a spark is triggered for each cylinder as the cam in it rotates at half crankshaft speed. Lobes on the cam open and close the contact breaker points and each time they open, a spark is triggered by the ignition coil. For more info on distributors and exactly how they work, check out an earlier column here.

Contact breaker points can be replaced by optical or Hall effect sensors, but the timing is still controlled by their position in relation to the distributor’s cam. For now though, we’ll stick with old-school contact breaker points because if they are incorrectly gapped, they too can affect timing to some extent. But before getting to the nitty-gritty of timing the ignition, why does it matter?

When fuel and air is ignited in a petrol engine it burns, and like a bonfire, that flame takes time to spread. Not much time, granted, just milliseconds, but it’s still a progressive process. Because events are happening in the engine very quickly, like the colossal speed of pistons traveling up and down the bores, then there may not be enough time for the fuel to burn and release its energy at the right point in the engine’s cycle.

For that reason, the fuel is usually ignited early to give it time to burn fully by the time the piston reaches the top of its stroke (top dead center, or TDC) and begins its downwards power stroke. That’s what is meant by ignition timing, the precise point, relative to the position of the piston in the bore, when the fuel is ignited.

The position of the piston relates to the rotational angle of the crankshaft relative to TDC which is 0°. As the engine revs increase, so does the speed of the pistons and the time allowed for the fuel to burn reduces. To get over that, the mixture has to be ignited sooner the faster the engine goes. In engine speak, the ignition timing must be “advanced” as revs and load on the engine increase.

For that reason ignition timing on distributor-timed engines can be checked both statically with the engine turned off, and with it running. The starting point though, is static timing. Ignition timing settings listed in a workshop manual will usually give the amount of advance (before top dead center, BTDC) static and with it running. So the Haynes Mini manual gives an early 998 Mini saloon setting as 5° BTDC static, and 8° BTDC at 600 rpm with the vacuum advance pipe disconnected.

Automatic advance of the timing is controlled by two things. The first is a pair of bobweights in the distributor which rotate the distributor cam as the engine speeds up, meeting the heel of the points sooner and advancing the ignition. The second is a vacuum advance system consisting of a vacuum pipe connecting the distributor to the inlet manifold. As the throttle opens and load on the engine increases (it works harder), then pressure in the inlet manifold drops, which in turn advances the ignition timing at the distributor.

To check ignition timing, first start on the bookshelf by referencing the proper setting and any special procedures for checking and adjusting in the factory service manual. The specs found there are the best baseline to start with. Once armed with knowledge, remove the spark plugs so the engine can be rotated easily and turn the engine in small amounts either through judicious shoving with the car in second or third gear or in neutral with a socket on the crank pulley. The aim is to align the timing mark on the crankshaft pulley with the corresponding number in degrees which is often stamped on an engine cover right next to it. In rare cases, the marks may be elsewhere. On early Minis, the marks are stamped on the flywheel behind a small inspection plate. Make sure the final alignment of the marks is done in the direction of the engine’s rotation to make sure all backlash between the crankshaft and distributor is taken up.

At this point, the contact breakers should be on the cusp of opening or already opened for number one spark plug. Undo the clamp fixing the distributor to the engine block and rotate the distributor body in the same direction as the cam to make sure the points are fully closed, then rotate it back again until they just open. That is the moment at which the spark will be generated.

To be accurate, with the ignition on, a multimeter in parallel with the points connected between earth and the negative terminal of the coil, will give a reading the instant they open. If you don’t have one, a 12-volt bulb wired across the points will illuminate at the same instant. Another quick and easy method is to rotate the distributor with the ignition on, until the instant a spark jumps across the points.

For testing with the engine running, you’ll need a stroboscopic timing light. Connected across the HT lead and spark plug on number one cylinder, the light will flash every time the plug sparks. Directing the light from the strobe light at the timing marks used for static timing, will reveal the advancing timing as the revs increase. Timing lights with built in rev counters make it easy to check at the revs listed in the manual.

If the distributor is fitted with points rather than an electronic ignition trigger, it’s important to check the points gap before you start because if it’s incorrect, that will also affect the timing. If the points gap is too small, the heel of the points will meet the cam lobe sooner, advancing the ignition slightly. Badly retarded timing causes overheating, back firing, poor performance and poor fuel consumption. Timing that’s too advanced can cause pinking (detonation), so it’s worth making a fairly regular check part of the routine.

Via Hagerty UK

The post About time you checked your engine’s ignition timing? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Victor writes:

Hi, I have a 1979 Ford Courier Pickup, with the 2.0-liter engine and a four-speed transmission with a little over 150,000 miles. I purchased this truck 41 years ago, brand new—it’s an original survivor and show winner. The problem I am having is when I drive it, once a week for approximately 15 miles, I get a few oil leaks.

The first appears to be coming from the rear of the cylinder head area. It is referred to as a “Blind Plate.” I torqued the four bolts to this plate to 4.5 nm and it eliminated the oil getting on the firewall. I am still getting a very small amount of oil dripping from the Air Manifold Assembly, which is run just below the blind plate. I have been unable so far to track down where the oil is dripping from. Additionally I notice a drip on the bottom bolt of the clutch bell housing the day after I drive the truck. If I wipe away the drip it does not reappear until I drive the truck again.

When I check the dipstick it always reads at the full mark. I have been told it is a rear main seal but my mechanical experience consists of changing the oil, filters, spark plugs, coolant and detailing. The truck runs great and has been well treated; I change the oil every six months, which amounts to less than 400 miles per oil change. Any insight into what’s going on would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for taking the time.

Sajeev answers:

Thank you for your comprehensive assessment of the problem! Considering the mileage, I reckon you’re experiencing the side effects of engine blow by. This happens because of increased crankcase pressures, which occurs because worn piston rings allow gases from the combustion chamber to enter the engine’s crankcase. I assume this case of blow by is pretty minor, not a nightmare scenario as seen in the engine below.

Ouch, that’s a lot of pressure in the crankcase.

Luckily, your case is more of an inconvenience. The increased internal pressure is just allowing oil to weep out of random places, not making a racket and ruining your performance. You could see blow by as a sign to get your engine rebuilt, but that’s a bridge too far for me. One of two parts could work for you, it’s just a matter of determining what is the best course of action.

I am pretty sure your 1979 Courier has a positive crankcase ventilation (PCV) system, and the replacement PCV valve (left photo) is the best way to remove a possible blockage in the valve and get crankcase gases circulating normally. But that may not be enough. Actually, I suspect it isn’t nearly enough, so that’s when a breather cap replaces the PCV valve in the valve cover and essentially defeats the system by venting it to the atmosphere.

While not exactly good for the environment, this is a classic vehicle that barely gets driven. It’s not a big deal to defeat the PCV system in the grand scheme of things, and the breather cap makes owning a worn engine far more tolerable. It might just be the trick you need.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

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Don Graves writes:

I have a 1995 Lincoln Town Car with the 4.6-liter V-8. The engine stalls two or three times each morning when it is cold. This has been going on for some time. When the car starts and keeps running, it runs very well. Any suggestions?

Given that the symptoms manifest only during warmup, I’d suspect that the Idle Air Control (IAC) valve is sticking. The IAC is a silver cylinder a few inches long, located at the very top of the engine. You can try tapping it with a screwdriver to see if it unsticks. It’s also an easy part to remove, and a quick test is to gently shake it to see if it rattles. If not, it’s probably stuck. You can try cleaning it with carburetor cleaner or simply replace it, as it’s not a terribly expensive part.

Gil Mares writes:

I own a DeTomaso Pantera with the 351 Cleveland. The spec for initial timing varies from 6 degrees to 16 degrees, depending on compression and heads. There isn’t much stock on these engines after a fresh rebuild, so how do you determine where the initial timing should be set and where the vacuum advance should start?

The engine should be timed so it never knocks. Unless you’re having the distributor rebuilt and recurved, the static timing, centrifugal advance, and vacuum advance aren’t independently adjustable; when you rotate the distributor, you’re changing the sum total of all of them.

Centrifugal advance is a function of engine rpm, but vacuum advance is an inverse function of load (throttle opening) and how the vacuum line is connected. On nearly all cars prior to the incorporation of emission controls, the distributor’s vacuum advance diaphragm was connected to a manifold vacuum at the base of the carb, providing about 10 degrees of extra advance in the lean-running, throttle-closed configurations of idle and highway cruising and dropping to zero at wide-open throttle. When emission controls ratcheted up in the 1970s, many manufacturers changed to “ported vacuum” (using a port on the carburetor above the throttle plate) in an attempt to increase exhaust gas temperature to help burn off hydrocarbons. This essentially defeated the vacuum advance at idle. I believe this is the reason the Pantera has two stating timing specs–the 6-degree spec is for the manifold vacuum configuration, and the 16-degree spec is for the ported vacuum configuration.

Whether your Pantera is set up with manifold or ported vacuum is one of those “decades later many changes” issues. The trend generally is to convert early 1970s-era cars back to pre-emissions manifold vacuum, but some Pantera owners say that ported vacuum works well on a 351C with iron heads and flat-top pistons.

Because of the changes from long-ago stock, as well as the unavailability of leaded gas to act as an anti-knock agent, on any vintage car with a mechanical advance distributor, I recommend: starting with the factory settings; putting an advance timing light on the engine; verifying the distributor is actually advancing with increasing rpm (sticky pivot points can often cause a no-advance situation); disconnecting the vacuum advance; setting the total advance to 32-36 degrees; reconnecting the vacuum advance; then driving the car under a variety of load conditions. If it knocks, back the timing off. If it doesn’t, try advancing it slightly. Then check it with the timing light and see what the total advance is to have that as a reference.

***

Rob Siegel’s new book, The Best of the Hack Mechanic^TM: 35 years of hacks, kluges, and assorted automotive mayhem, is available on Amazon. His other seven books are available here, or you can order personally-inscribed copies through his website, www.robsiegel.com.

The post Good Times? Setting the timing on a rebuild can be a hassle appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Overheating is of the most familiar problems with owning an older car—and one that has provided plenty of fodder for black-and-white comedy films in days of yore. In reality, though, standing by the open hood of your beloved automobile, ducking plumes of steam spurting from the radiator cap, is no fun. The causes can range from minor to major, so it’s worth making sure the cooling system is in perfect shape—and it’s an easy task to perform while the car’s off the road over winter.

The good news is that keeping an engine cool isn’t rocket science, but there are different types of systems depending on the age of the car. Pre- and post-war cars often have unpressurised systems which rely on the engine running cooler. Later cars have pressurized systems which allow the engines and the coolant to run at higher temperature for greater efficiency.

Pressurizing the system simply raises the boiling point of the coolant and that’s controlled by the radiator cap (or expansion tank cap on modern machinery). The caps are pressure-rated depending on the car, so it’s important to fit the right cap. Pressures are relatively modest, typically 15 to 18 psi, but to achieve that range the rubber seal in the cap must be in good condition. Otherwise, the coolant will boil over and cause overheating. Always buy new; radiator caps are inexpensive but do an important job.

How your cooling system works

The most basic of all cooling systems in old cars without a cabin heater consists of radiator, belt-driven water pump in the engine, and thermostat. Cars with heaters have a second radiator (the heater matrix) inside the cabin. Fresh air from outside forced through the matrix, either by atmospheric pressure or an electric fan, warms the cabin. If you find your car beginning to overheat, turning the cabin heat and fan settings to maximum to increase the cooling capacity of the cooling system can sometimes get you home.

Coolant is pumped around the system by a water pump, usually bolted into the front of the cylinder block and driven by the fan belt. Coolant flows from the radiator bottom hose into the water pump and through the heart of the engine via the water jacket, a network of spaces around the engine’s cylinders created during the casting of the block. After that, coolant flows up into the cylinder head, through the thermostat, and then out through the top hose to the radiator.

The radiator consists of a top tank and a bottom tank, with a core comprised of vertical tubes joining the two. Delicate, horizontal fins provide the large surface area to take the heat away from the radiator, cooling the water as it travels down through the core. The radiator fan exists mainly to provide a cooling airflow when the car is stationary or moving slowly; once the vehicle picks up speed, the natural airflow takes over.

Common problems

If an engine begins to overheat while driving at a reasonable speed, the first port of call is the thermostat. Engines are designed to run at a certain temperature for maximum efficiency and the thermostat restricts the flow of water from the front of the cylinder head back into the radiator. A bypass circuit, sometimes involving a small hose, allows a restricted flow of coolant directly back into the water pump when the thermostat is closed. By cutting out the radiator from the circuit, the coolant heats up quickly—but if the thermostat fails in the closed position, as it often does, then the engine will overheat.

If the engine is overheating badly or boiling over and blowing water out through a serviceable radiator cap, the culprit may be a leaking head gasket. When that happens, leaks may not be visible externally, but when the gasket fails between a combustion chamber and a water jacket port, which allows water coolant to flow from the block to the cylinder head, then the cooling system becomes pressurized and heated directly by combustion gasses. That’s easy to diagnose, though. When the engine is cold, there will be white, emulsified oil visible in the radiator and in the engine oil filler. The only fix for that is to remove the cylinder head and replace the head gasket, along with any work needed to sort out the cause.

Draining the system is simple, either via a tap on the radiator or simply by undoing the hose clamp and pulling the bottom hose off when the engine is cold. Removing the thermostat housing gives access to the thermostat itself. Each thermostat is designed to open at a certain temperature and will be stamped with that value. It can be checked by popping it in very hot water, preferably with a thermometer, and it should open above the appropriate temperature. If it doesn’t, it should be replaced.

Other cooling issues

A more obvious cause of overheating is loss of coolant through a leaking hose (so make sure they are all in good shape), a punctured radiator, a badly slipping or failed fan belt, or electric fans which are not firing up as they should when the engine temperature reaches a certain threshold. In that final case, check the wiring and also the sensor screwed into the cylinder head which triggers the fan.

A less obvious cause is a poorly maintained cooling system which is blocked with sludge and corrosion. Notice we’re using the word “coolant” here rather than “water” because the system should be filled with a mixture of water and antifreeze. Antifreeze does more than the name suggests: It’s also a corrosion inhibitor and without it, everything the coolant touches—including the inside of the engine—will corrode. Corrosion will circulate with the coolant, sludge will build up in the bottom of the engine’s water jacket, and the bottom radiator tank and the radiator core will become blocked and less able to do their jobs.

Use the recommended maximum amount of antifreeze to protect the system. That said, don’t go mad and fill with a majority of antifreeze, because water is a more effective coolant than glycol. If you’ve just acquired the car and the coolant looks grim, flush the system by draining it (when the engine is cold), refilling with a proprietary radiator-flushing product, and running the engine for the specified time before draining again and refilling. When doing this, remember to have the heater on full so the matrix gets flushed as well.

At refill time, the amount of antifreeze you need will be printed on the bottle and depends on the capacity of your car’s cooling system. You can find that out by checking a maintenance manual or by draining it, then refilling with plain water to see how much it takes. Avoid refilling a filthy cooling system with fresh coolant mixture because the anti-corrosion properties of the antifreeze will be diminished. Cleaning and refreshing the cooling system isn’t difficult or unpleasant to do and there’s satisfaction in knowing the engine and radiator is properly protected, in more ways than one.

Via Hagerty UK

The post How to maintain your car’s cooling system appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Dan writes:

I have a ’64 Corvair with a six-cylinder engine. It runs OK after I rebuilt the carbs and seems to be mechanically fine. However, it overheats. I have locked open the air discharge flaps at the lower rear of the engine compartment to allow air flow. Engine cooling fan seems to run properly, as the belt is tight. It will overheat whether it sits idling for a few minutes or is driven a couple of miles. Your suggestions?

Sajeev answers:

I was on the verge of blurting out, “OMG, U HAVE A CLOGGED RADIATOR!!!”

Even though I just typed it, I do, in fact, know Corvairs are air-cooled, but my sentiment has some merit. You clearly do not have a clogged radiator, but something is restricting airflow. I am no Corvair expert, but luckily Hagerty’s own Kyle Smith is quite the guru. So here’s his input into your cooling system quandary.

Kyle Smith writes:

Hey Dan, Corvairs are simple cars at the end of the day, but folks often overthink the cooling systems. The key is no different than a liquid-cooled engine: air flow. On the Corvair flat-six the airflow has a relatively simple path: the fan pulls air from above the engine and pushes it down through the cooling fins on the cylinders and cylinder heads before the air exits below the engine through the door you have already found.

I suspect there is a blockage or buildup of debris in or on top of the cooling fins. Start by removing the shroud—commonly referred to as the “turkey roaster”—and thoroughly clean everything. While you are there, removing the casting flash from the cylinders and heads makes a noticeable difference in keeping temps in check. Use a small hacksaw blade to reach in-between the fins and break or saw away debrits and flash. Reinstall all the shrouding, and make sure any and all holes are sealed up. The engine shrouding to body seal is a common failure and can be a pain to replace, but it serves an important function.

Overheating can sometimes be traced to fuel/air mixture issues, but we will assume yours are correct since you freshly rebuilt them. Last thing to check is the ignition timing. Improper timing can build heat rather quickly even though the engine could run relatively smooth. Reference the 1964 supplement shop manual for proper timing for your engine. The code stamped on the block near the oil filter adapter will designate the engine you have and how the timing should be set. Please let us know if this helps; if not, give us a call. Maybe we can figure it out together.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: The reconditioned Corvair’s distinct lack of cooling appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Dave writes:

I have a Dodge Dart with a 426 Gen-II Hemi and a 727 auto transmission. During the summer of 2018, I started having some issues and also started to diagnose them. Long story short, I found that the rear wall of the thrust bearing was compromised. I built this motor, and I’d put 7500 miles of spirited street driving on it in the prior eight years. No drag racing, with very few from-a-stop burn outs! The build started with a new block that was manufactured in 2005 (mega-block from Mopar Performance).

I lucked out in the fact that nothing was ruined due to this failure. I did end up having the block line honed to make sure it was correct. Other than that it was a standard check and renew/replace type of rebuild. It is now on my run stand, and it’s been run numerous times this fall. Transmission was also checked and rebuilt, and nothing unusual was found. The only things not checked yet are the drive shaft, to ensure it isn’t too long, and the torque converter, to make sure it hasn’t ballooned. Two questions: What might have caused this issue, and do you recommend checking anything I haven’t mentioned? I am 69 years young and not wanting to do this again!

Sajeev answers:

Oh, boy, talk about a tough one to diagnose. Worn-out thrust bearings either suggest a poorly machined block/crankshaft, or something that bolts to the front or back of the engine applying undue pressure to the crankshaft.  Even worse, this isn’t as easy to diagnose as a manual transmission vehicle (i.e. push in the clutch and watch the crank pulley for movement), but odds are the same area of concern is applicable to your automatic-equipped Dart.

It could be that the torque convertor was incorrectly spaced during installation. As I have zero personal experience in this, perhaps it’s time to turn to a video for a better explanation of the problem.

A quick check of a Mopar forum suggests this video’s specs are a little off for a Chrysler 727, but I would ditch the Internet and talk to a local rebuilder to get the correct spec. The aforementioned driveshaft is worth checking, especially if your Dart didn’t come with this engine and transmission from the factory (i.e. someone made a custom shaft to fit).

If all the dimensions are correct, perhaps there is too much line pressure causing torque convertor ballooning. This can happen from using incorrectly-sized lines to the cooler, kinked lines, aftermarket modifications, etc. that increase line pressure and eventually turn the torque convertor into a thrust bearing eater. Again, another chat with a local transmission expert is in order.

Fingers crossed! Best of luck with the inspection and repair.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: 426 Hemi vs. ballooning torque convertor? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

In comparison with modern cars and their solid-state ignition systems, the distributor has to be one of the most infernal parts of an older engine. If not regularly checked and maintained, it can cause all kinds of problems, like poor starting, misfiring, low power and, er, being stuck on the side of the road. The distributor is both a crude and at the same time, elegant way of “distributing” high-tension current (many thousands of volts) from the coil to each spark plug at precisely the right time. It also contains the contact breakers (points) and condenser which, between them, work with the ignition coil to generate the high-tension current which creates each spark.

To understand more about how that works in detail and what each bit does, have a look here at how to maintain your car’s ignition system, but here’s a quick summary. Points inside the distributor open and close triggering an high-tension (HT) current in the coil, which is transmitted back to the distributor and then out to each spark plug via a spinning “rotor arm.” The distributor, then, is doing two jobs simultaneously and has two separate electrical circuits passing through it.

One is a low-tension (low voltage) circuit which includes the points and the ignition coil, fed by electricity supplied from the battery (usually 12 volts). The second is an HT current which passes from the coil, to the distributor cap, to the spinning rotor arm then straight back out to the plugs via contacts in the cap. The coil end of the circuit and the spark plugs are earthed to close the circuit, but to complete that circuit, the HT current must jump the gap in a spark plug.

The distributor consists of an outer casing, a cap made from an insulated material, a rotating shaft running through it topped by a rotor arm, a movable plate carrying the contact breakers, a condenser, some bob-weights and springs and a small external vacuum chamber which on Lucas designs, looks like a flying saucer.

It works like this: The points are opened and closed by a cam on the shaft with the same number of lobes as the number of cylinders. As it rotates, the points open at each lobe triggering a spark at one of the spark plugs and firing one of the cylinders. The cam is connected to bob weights and as the revs increase, the bob weights move apart against small springs, twisting the cam in relation to the shaft and advancing the timing of the sparks as the engine speeds up. The vacuum chamber is connected to the engine inlet manifold and if the driver opens the throttle to develop more power, the pressure drops and this also advances the ignition.

Several things are critical to keep this lot working as it should. One is that the points are adjusted to the correct gap when fully open. They are opened by an insulated heel touching the cam and as this wears the gap will close. This will affect the length of time they are open and consequently how well the engine performs, starts or runs at all. There’s usually a felt pad clipped against the cam which should be moistened with a light oil. If this is missing, or not maintained, the heel of the points can wear more quickly. Checking the points is something that on a classic is worth filing under “routine and regular maintenance.” If the spark is weak, the engine is rough under load (working hard) or higher revs, or the points are badly burned, or the condenser could be failing. It’s worth replacing this as a matter of course or at least having a new one as a spare.

The distributor cap must be in good condition, dry, and most important, be free of any cracks and securely clipped to the metal casing. The rotor arm should also be in good condition and the contact on it, which relays the spark to the contacts in the distributor cap, should be in good nick and not excessively burnt. The HT current from the coil is transferred from the distributor cap to the rotor arm in the first place, by a spring loaded carbon contact. Make sure this is intact and in good shape.

Really knackered distributors may need more drastic work and should be completely stripped, inspected and rebuilt as a matter of course in a full engine rebuild. Things that can go wrong are worn shaft bearings (normally bronze bushings) so that the shaft flails around when rotating. This is an absolute no-no as the points gap and opening duration will be changing on the fly. Similarly, the shaft can be badly worn and need replacing along with the bushings.

The springs holding the bob-weights together must be exactly the right part for that distributor as their characteristics control the rate of advance of the ignition as the engine speeds up. If one is broken or they’re weakened with age, the ignition will advance too far too soon. During the rebuild of my 1968 Mustang project, the distributor didn’t look too bad from the outside but when I stripped it down, one of the two springs had been randomly replaced with one several times stronger. This would have prevented the ignition advancing as it should and—as well as reducing power—could have caused overheating. The fix was to track down exactly the right part number springs for that distributor and engine, something that was easier than it sounds.

Bushings can be replaced, either in the home workshop or by a machine shop and are available for many common distributors along with the other parts. There are specialists who will do the job for you or alternatively, brand new replicas are available for some older classics at the cost of originality. A freshly overhauled distributor will give long service, but don’t forget to keep an eye on that points gap!

Via Hagerty UK

The post Diagnosing (and solving) distributor problems appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Matt writes:

Hello Sajeev!

I have a maintenance question for you. I occasionally write for Hagerty as well, and I was wondering how important it is to replace a broken motor mount? I have a 2009 Honda Odyssey with 150,000 miles. In the last month we have put over $1000 into fixing an oil and power steering leak. Then we were told that two of the motor mounts were completely gone, and that would cost another $500.

Is that an immediate-fix kind of situation, or is it safe to drive with broken motor mounts? The van has been great to my family, but I hate putting more money into it at this point. Trying to decide if it’s worth investing in repairs (and keeping it until it is collectible and covered by Hagerty!), or replacing the van. Thanks!

Sajeev answers: 

Thank you for writing to Piston Slap, fellow Hagerty writer!

Basically we are dealing with two levels of failure with bad engine (or transaxle) mounts: issues with the insulation (be it solid rubber or hydraulic), or an issue with the metal part safely holding the engine in the chassis. While driving with a failure on the former is not a horrible idea (just an engineer’s NVH nightmare), a failure on the latter is a serious threat to your wellbeing. Or to your wallet.

First, determine what you’re dealing with: an insulation failure is usually just an annoying vibration at certain engine rpms. (This most often happens at idle, when in gear and on the brakes, like when waiting at a red light.) That’s usually how engine mounts fail at first, unless the vehicle was also in a collision. Either way, at some point the vibration does more than wear out the insulation; it eventually breaks the mount’s metal exoskeleton. That’s when you hear louder, more terrifying sounds like thuds, bangs, and clangs. (These are often heard at full throttle from a standstill.)

Given these symptoms, I’ll let you decide how long you can nurse a minivan with bad engine mounts. Waiting for the vibrations to get worse isn’t a bad plan, as it gives you plenty of time to source replacements online for cheap. Provided your shop will install your parts, but that’s a whole ’nother story.

Bonus! A Piston Slap Nugget of Wisdom

A diagnosis was already made here, but spotting the differences between insulation/metal engine mount problems is pretty easy. Sometimes you get lucky, as hydraulic engine mounts (on EX-L and Touring grade vans) sometimes lose their hydraulic fluid like a misplaced bite into a jelly donut. A solid rubber donut can show signs of stress via cracking and collapsing, but it’s a bit tougher to spot.  A failure in the metal exoskeleton is more obvious, but sometimes a cheap endoscope does the trick.

If the visual inspection fails (or is too hard to see on some FWD applications), open the hood, have someone put their foot on the brake, put the van in gear, torque over the motor with the gas pedal, and look at the motor FROM A SAFE VANTAGE POINT. If the motor rocks back and forth under load more than a newer vehicle (i.e. go see how a new vehicle performs to calibrate your eyeballs), then you know you need to replace your engine mounts … eventually.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: A buzz or a thud from the donuts? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The garage is a strange place. Some projects you tackle with all the time in the world, and others are on a deadline tighter than ten-year-old denim. Anyone that has rushed to wrap up a project understands the stress and frustration that accompanies a time crunch. That’s why I decided to share some tips from my latest experience in time-sensitive rebuilds.

The Six Ways to Sunday Honda XR250R was on the track at Gingerman last weekend and sprung an oil leak from the countershaft seal. That meant my plan of fun, back-to-back race weekends suddenly included a two-night, mid-week engine rebuild. Though I’ve been through this engine before, my familiarity with its innards wasn’t my main source of confidence; instead, my comfort stemmed from having been on deadline before with similar projects. Learn from my stressful clockwatching so you can tackle your next time-sensitive project with confidence. Here are five tips to make you a pro under pressure.

Have a plan

When time is short, knowing exactly what you want to do—and, more importantly, what you don’t want to do—does much to keep you from wasting hours. Take a quick moment before grabbing tools to set your objectives and lay out how you are going to achieve them. Things certainly could change as the project progresses—that’s their nature—but if you have a plan laid out, you’ll have a much easier time adapting to surprises than if you simply tear into something, get derailed, and have to take a break to figure out what is going on.

Focus on organization

As the tools emerge and parts start to peel off, keep yourself organized. It’s tempting to lay bits and pieces willy-nilly on the floor or table as you remove them, but a “just put it somewhere” approach will only slow you down when you switch to reassembly and have to waste time searching through a parts pile. Not fun or efficient.

Spread out as much as you can. If you don’t have enough bench space, grab a piece of chalk and draw squares on the floor, labeling components in the order they came off. Taking the seconds to scribble and sort feels like a lifetime in the moment, but trying to find that one mount or spacer when you almost done is significantly more frustrating. I’ve been there, and I promise it is not a fun place.

Keep out distraction

We love a good garage gathering as much as anyone, but when you’re working on deadline, it is not time to have people over to hang out and bench race. An experienced helping hand can be nice and very welcome. However, you won’t have the bandwidth to teach as you go, or to supervise someone whom you don’t trust to do things exactly how you want them done. A plan is extra important should you have someone over to help. Be sure it is thought-out and clear.

It’s not just other people who could distract you in your own workspace. The large TV above my workbench is a thing of beauty and is often tuned into concerts or fun musical performances when I am wrenching on a project. This is not the case when time is tight. I’ll even switch to good jazz without vocals to keep myself from singing along and getting off on a mental tangent.

Write your list and cross things off

Your plan should include some milestones. “Rebuild engine” is a poor plan; one that includes steps such as “remove and inspect cylinder head” is better. This gives you guidance and also a feeling of accomplishment mid-project when you cross things off the to-do list. Embrace these moments, because they can recharge your mental batteries when your energy is getting drained by a large task. Breaking up a project into chunks also helps you time food or mental breaks to keep yourself fresh.

This list should also include specific data you know you will need. In the planning stages, take a minute to flip through the shop manual and jot down numbers like valve lash settings so that, when the time comes, you’ll have the information close at hand and won’t have to stop and hunt for it in the manual with greasy fingers.

Take the time for a final once-over

Tightening the last bolt feels great … but was that really the last bolt? In a flurry of work, it is extremely easy to skip the torque wrench or not run the proper pattern when tightening things down. When you think you are done, take a moment and go front to back—or top to bottom, or whatever makes sense for your task—and mentally put your mind to each part you touched while also physically checking that you did you job correctly. Nothing is worse than thrashing to get something done just to have it break again because of something you missed during a moment of autopilot assembly.

In a perfect world we would have all the time we need to get things done perfectly every time. The world isn’t perfect, though. Time marches on and deadlines exist whether we impose them on ourselves or are constrained by a past promise. My XR250R is back together, leak-free, and ready for the track not a minute too soon. With any luck, you will pull off your time-crunch project, too.

The post 5 tips for a time-sensitive DIY job appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Sajeev writes:

I gave some bad advice in a previous last Piston Slap. And while this is far from the first time I got it wrong, I am glad two people corrected me so that I may correct myself. The last time we spoke about this 1973 Mercedes-Benz 280 SEL 4.5, I said:

“Bosch D (or is this K?) Jetronic systems require specialized knowledge.”

The vehicle in question indeed used Bosch D-Jetronic; perhaps I shouldn’t have doubted myself with the mention of K. But wait, it gets worse.

“Who knows, after nearly 50 years of heat cycling, maybe that internal spring lost its progressive-rated sprung?”

Nope! I got it backwards, because the Air Slide Valve (a.k.a. auxiliary air valve) is open when cold and closes when it heats up. If the ASV’s internal spring lost its aforementioned sprung, the idle will be higher than expected when the engine is warm. Which means the OP’s issue of low idle/stalling is likely resolved elsewhere.

That said, a Jetronic-savvy friend further corrected me by adding that “a good way to test the ASV is to squeeze the elbow when the engine is warm. If idle stumbles or tries to die, it is leaking. Yes they can be DIY rebuilt as you suggested, but I don’t think that’s the issue here.” He went further, discussing what to check on the D-Jetronic system:

1. Inspect the vacuum hose that goes between the pressure sensor and the manifold. It must be kink free and not collapse under vacuum.
2. Always check the condition of the electrical connections, as Mercedes-Benz used copper here. Pay special attention to the ground wires, as many times the issues stem from weak grounds. Sand or polish away corrosion/oxidation, check the fuses, clean the connections at the fuse box, and replace anything if it looks suspect.
3. Next, check the ignition. Many times the advance isn’t working.
4. Then check the injectors. If original, they’re probably tired. A lot of times you can check for spray quality, leaks, etc. and if they’re not flowing well, this could be the problem.
5. It is also good to check Temp Sensor 1 and 2 for good continuity.

Now this is me, your boy Sanjeev, talking: For #2, try a spray-on tarnish remover, as I’ve had fantastic luck with it. But don’t spray it on directly, instead spray on a cotton swab and apply the chemical with said swab.

After reading a very comprehensive forum post my friend shared with me, I have a newfound appreciation for Bosch’s D-Jetronic fuel injection system. While my antiquated fuel metering system of choice will always be Ford’s short-lived EEC-III set up, I learned a fair bit after making this significant error. And I hope you learned something too.

The post Piston Slap: When the air slide valve loses its glide? (Let’s try this again) appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Bill writes:

Hi Sajeev,

I have a quick question about an issue with the air slide valve for my garage-kept 1973 Mercedes-Benz 280 SEL 4.5. I’ve had the problem for over three years, but it’s never been an issue since I don’t drive her that often. Now I’d like to get this repaired. If I sit for long periods of time in traffic, for over 35–45 minutes in gear, the engine starts to idle rough, with the idle starting to slow down to the point where it wants to stall. I have to put my foot on the brake and give her a little gas to prevent her from stalling. I think it’s the air slide valve.

I only drive her periodically on sunny days, not often. She never sees rain or snow, and she hibernates during the colder months through the winter season. But when the engine gets hot from driving an hour or so I also notice if I turn the engine off and then try to restart her again right away, she either won’t start or it’s very hard to start. If I wait until the engine cools down, the car starts right up. Could this also be due to a faulty air slide valve?

Any advice or recommendations would be helpful.

Sajeev answers:

Idle air control sure has come a long way from the good ‘ol air slide valve, when a thermostatic spring was used to regulate incoming air based on coolant temperature. While later implementations used electric motors, they’re all antiques, thanks to the genius of today’s drive-by-wire throttle assemblies. No matter, I suspect there’s a significant buildup of crud inside your ASV, so a quick removal and a deep clean might be worth it. The video below makes it look easy, provided you have the right tools and just a little bit of courage.

Considering ASV cleaning is almost free (or pretty cheap if you have a mechanic brave enough to work on it), I would absolutely clean it first and see if it helps. While the ASV is removed, check the condition of the rubber hoses, as they should be firm (i.e not gooey), crack-free, and flexible.  Replace the hoses if they fail a visual inspection, and consider replacing the ASV if the deep cleaning also fails to give you satisfaction. Who knows, after nearly 50 years of heat cycling, maybe that internal spring lost its progressive-rated sprung?

To your second question, yes, it’s very likely that a malfunctioning ASV can affect re-starts in the same manner. If a cleaned or new ASV doesn’t also fix this problem, check your fuel pressure first. Bosch D (or is this K?) Jetronic systems require specialized knowledge, but doing a near me search with plenty of phone calling will net you a mechanic who has the experience/nerve to work on them.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: When the air slide valve loses its glide? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Noah writes:

Is it possible for an engine’s water jacket to erode to a point that it will no longer transfer heat efficiently?

Sajeev answers:

Possible? Sure, it’s totally possible.

Probable? Not likely, as there’s a lot of metal that has to corrode/erode under truly neglectful conditions before it can happen. Perhaps good examples are when someone doesn’t use the correct antifreeze in marine applications (i.e. automotive coolant isn’t gonna cut it), or avoids using an additive on diesel engines to avoid cavitation, or just fails to perform regular coolant services on most gasoline-powered vehicles with the correct fluid. That said, this is probably a good time to post a friendly reminder on how to check and test your engine’s coolant.

Perhaps a final point to make is for those looking at a neglected vehicle as a project car. If the vehicle is decades old, it’s a good idea to check the inside of the cooling system (open the radiator cap and get a scope in there, for starters) and check for corrosion, rust, or any sort of scale buildup. If you see issues in the cooling system—especially in the somewhat easily accessible thermostat housing—perhaps it’s a good idea to consider the vehicle more of a barn find with the possibility of a full engine teardown in the future. Not that it’ll be necessary, but it could be.

Did I miss anything?  Sock it to me, Hagerty Community.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: Do water jackets ever need a life jacket? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Kevin writes:

My ’64 Studebaker Daytona has its original 289 cid V-8 and has had the cylinders bored out 0.060. Can you tell me what the displacement would be now?

Sajeev answers:

Oh man, I am totally getting flashbacks to grade school math class! Calculating engine displacement requires determining three values: The number of cylinders, the cylinder’s bore, and the piston’s stroke. Your Studebaker has eight cylinders (‘natch) possessing a 3.625″ stroke and a 3.563″ bore, but the latter was increased by 0.060″ to make 3.623″ bore. You can pop all that info into a handy-dandy online calculator, but where’s the fun in that?

Here’s a brief math lesson, manifested in a formula that, thanks to our publishing software’s inability to accurately reproduce mathematical formulas, must be written out as a sentence.

Engine displacement equals the engine’s stroke, multiplied by the bore (which is π, times the radius squared), multiplied by the number of cylinders.

I used this moment to (literally) dust off my solar-powered calculator, got major sixth grade flashbacks to the phrase “Pie are round? No pi are square!”, and eventually calculated a displacement of 298.816 cubic inches.  Which, to be fair, is essentially 299, and should be discussed at car shows as a motor with “just under 300 cubic inches”. (Math snobs who disapprove of everything mentioned above are encouraged to send hate mail to pistonslap@hagerty.com at your leisure.)

And with that, enjoy your 300-ish cubes of mighty Studebaker V-8 power!

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: Pi are square in the Studebaker’s engine displacement appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Arnie writes:

I don’t understand why gasoline cars in Europe need a particulate filter. I understand diesels generate a lot of particulates. I have never previously heard of of concerns with gasoline particulates. Will these filters eventually be required in the U.S.?

Sajeev answers:

This is a great question as it was an eye-opener for me too!

Apparently traditional port-fuel injection systems are not as big of a problem, but gasoline-direct injection engines indeed create a terrible byproduct: Soot. But don’t take an automotive writer’s word for it, let’s dig into a publication from a trusted resource.

It may be surprising to learn that the modern gasoline direct-injection (GDI) engines in today’s passenger cars can emit more hazardous fine particulate matter than a port fuel-injected engine (PFI), or even the latest heavy-duty diesels equipped with a particulate filter.

This quote came from a publication by the Society of Automotive Engineers (SAE), which last time I checked has no connection to the Deep State or any other iteration of hot-button topics currently propagating across the internet and provoking a frenzy of clicking and commenting. Let’s dig a little deeper into the article, as it found that the “Oak Ridge National Laboratory’s (ORNL) Fuels, Engines and Emissions Research Center found that sample GDI engines emit five to 10 times more particulate matter than their PFI counterparts.”

The 2017 study below suggests the “adverse effect studies of gasoline exhaust are scarce, even though GDI vehicles can emit a high number of particles.” But consider that fact that more GDI engines hit the road in the last four years, and people aren’t exactly great with long-term vehicle maintenance. Could this be a canary-in-a-coal-mine-situation?

The study might have more merit in the next 10–20 years, so skim the abstract and consider the side effects of “repeated exposure” on your HMOX1 and TNFa genes. Whatever they may be!

The aforementioned SAE article puts the above research into a clearer perspective, stating these pollutants “can irritate the eyes, nose, throat and lungs, contributing to respiratory and cardiovascular illnesses and even premature death especially among the vulnerable: children, the elderly and those with respiratory conditions.”

So, to your questions! Because of the proliferation of GDI engines, yes, this is a legitimate problem you can replicate in a clinical setting. People that live/work in an area with [the aforementioned] repeated exposure scenarios should be somewhat concerned. Maybe GDI cars do need a particulate filter. Whether America gets the particulate filters is anyone’s guess; I choose not to pontificate on our government representatives’ actions.

That said, after contracting the unbelievably rare Stevens-Johnson Syndrome (don’t google it, it’s gross) and the subsequent auto-immune issues that are now part of my life, I generally feel the need to protect other at-risk individuals. Most GDI drivers could care less about the technology under the hoods of cars or SUVs; they just need the vehicle to perform its vehicular duties. I reckon they would either be receptive or wholly apathetic to the change. Sure, the cost will go up, but not enough for anyone to care considering the eleventy-billion month financing plans available on new cars these days.

But that’s just my opinion, your mileage shall vary. Is the GDI performance and fuel economy benefit worth the maintenance, cost, and health downsides? Should we add particulate filters, go back to PFI, or adapt a Toyota-like PFI/GDI hybrid setup?

You tell me, dear reader.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, and give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: Diesel soot drama, except with modern gasoline engines? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

If there is one tired-out thought that needs to go away in the car world, it is that race car parts always make a street car better. The vast majority of the time using speed parts on a street car creates a machine with a lot of compromises—which is not in itself better. Giant camshafts are the prime example. Huge overlap and lift numbers make for a brutal, head-turning idle—if the engine will idle at all—as you arrive at the Friday night cruise-in, but it will also make low-speed driving an exercise in frustration. Why someone would willingly submit to that is beyond me, but there is one popular trope where I have understood the hype on even though the hype is misplaced: Racing oil is no better for your street engine than regular oil.

Racing oil is designed for the extreme existence a race engine lives. Wide-open throttle, high temperatures, and tight tolerances are the norm. So is regular service. For instance, as Jason Fenske explains in a recent Engineering Explained video, NASCAR engines are only expected to last 1500 miles before a complete tear-down and rebuild. That means teams and engine builders will use the thinnest oil that will still keep the engine together for 1500 miles since there is less friction loss with that thinner oil. Less friction loss equals more power.

Interestingly though, as Fenske talked with Mobil 1 engineers he learned that racing oils contain many of the same additives as consumer-grade oils. The only exception was a pour-point depressant, which makes the oil thinner in cold temperatures. Most race engines never see cold temps. If they do, they’ll pre-heating the oil before engine startup which prevents wear.

Bringing up wear prevention introduces why most self-proclaimed “oil gurus” will tell you to use racing oil—zinc content. Also known as ZDDP, this additive helps prevent metal-on-metal wear by creating a sacrificial layer that builds up with heat and can be worn down and built up infinitely. This is most important for high-pressure metal contact points like flat-tappet camshafts and lifters. The general rule of thumb most folks will tell you is the more ZDDP, the better. It’s not that simple though.

ZDDP is short for Zinc dialkyldithiophosphates, and it’s the very end of that very intimidating to pronounce compound that creates the problem. The phosphates can ruin modern emissions controls equipment like catalytic converters, even in the minute amounts that stay on cylinder walls as the piston travels up and down in the cylinder. Since the vast majority of oil is sold for use in late-model vehicles, that is a problem. That ZDDP is also not as important since nearly all modern engine designs have left flat-tappet camshafts behind in favor of roller versions that reduce friction and increase service life.

That leaves us classic owners out in the cold a bit, right? Well, sort of. The key to remember here is that ZDDP is only important in situations of metal-on-metal contact, specifically when there is a lack of the proper oil film between parts. In a properly functioning engine, the ZDDP is a great safeguard, but not nearly as critical as internet experts might have you believe. Some is good, which is why most modern oils still contain ZDDP. Race oils tend to have about double the amount compared to oils for production engines.

Our vintage rides likely don’t have emissions equipment to worry about, so the drawbacks of extra ZDDP don’t really exist. Over-the-counter additives are the solution for those fretting about engine internals, but in the vast majority of cases keeping fresh, clean, high-quality oil in the crankcase will be sufficient to keep our beloved engines running for many years. These are street cars, and the use of racing parts or oils is often just a more expensive way to do the same thing.

The post No, you don’t need racing oil in your daily driver appeared first on Hagerty Media.

We know that the 1960s were full of horsepower hijinks, but did you know that manufacturers sometimes fibbed about the size of their engines? Indeed, that burbling V-8 in your beloved classic may actually not measure up to its promised displacement. We rooted out five of the worst offenders.

Ford/Mercury 427

Available from mid-1963 to mid-1968, the 427 was Ford’s crowning achievement in the 1960s, carrying the torch during Ford’s “Total Performance” reign of global competition. However, to American enthusiasts, the 427 is best known for powering Fords and Mercurys to success on the drag strip and in NASCAR. The FE-series engine was introduced at the same time as Ford’s semi-fastback roofline for the Galaxie 500 and Galaxie 500/XL (as well as Mercury’s Marauder sub-series), and the silhouette’s aerodynamic advantages helped maximize the engine’s performance on the banked ovals. The street 427 was available with either a single or pair of four-barrel carburetors for 410 or 425 horsepower, respectively. Several thousand 427s were built through 1964, with popularity falling drastically in 1965, the last year of big Mercury; in its swan-song year of 1967, the 427 was installed in 89 full-size Fords.

Even with pressure from the GTO and Chrysler’s Hemi, Ford produced only 57 1966 Fairlane 500 hardtops carrying the 427, which were joined by a nominal 229 Fairlanes and 60 Comets and Cyclones in 1967. The very last 427 produced was the 1968 Cougar GT-E (detuned with hydraulic lifters and a four-barrel for 390 hp); after the ’68 model year, it was replaced by the 428 Cobra Jet.

The 427’s bore and stroke was 4.232 x 3.784 inches. Plug that into your engine-displacement calculator and you’ll get 425.816 cubic inches. Since Chrysler already had a 426, did Ford want to advertise a superior size?

Pontiac 428

As far as the bigger Pontiac engines are concerned, the 428 is somewhat lost between the 421 from Pontiac’s racing heyday and the massive 455. However, from 1967–69, the 428 was the top engine for Pontiac’s full-size series. Initial power output was 360 hp or, in High Output (HO) configuration, 376. For 1968, those ratings were bumped to 375 and 390 hp, respectively. For 1969 a lesser, 360-horse version became standard for the Bonneville, though HO was still optional for all full-size Pontiacs. The 428 also was available for the downsized 1969 Grand Prix, with a 370-horse iteration standard with the SJ package and the HO optional for both the J and SJ. The latter made for a personal-luxury car that was faster than some GTOs.

Alas, the 428 wasn’t quite what it seemed. When you account for the 4.12-inch bore and 4.0-inch stroke, actual displacement comes out to 426.613 cubic inches.

Ford/Mercury 428

A member of the FE engine series like the 427, the 428 debuted for the 1966 model year. Unlike the 427, the 428 was designed to deliver smooth, streetable power—it was rated at 345 hp. Though available for all full-size Ford and Mercury models, it was showcased in the Galaxie 7-Litre and S-55. The 428 continued to be available through 1968, though it was available through 1970 in 360-horse Police Interceptor form. The 1967–68 Shelby GT500 also used the PI 428.

Of course, the 428 is most famous for the Cobra Jet variant that debuted at the 1968 Winternationals and hit the streets in April of that year. It was rated at 335 horsepower but was actually was more powerful than both the regular and the PI 428. Though available for FoMoCo’s pony cars and mid-sizers in 1968, the 428 Cobra Jet was discontinued for mid-size cars in 1970 and pony cars in ’71.

The 428’s bore and stroke measured 4.132 x 3.984 inches, which equals 427.386 cubic inches. Yes, you read that right—the 428 is a 427! Because Ford already had a 427 of sorts, the folks at Dearborn simply rounded up.

Pontiac 350

Pontiac’s 5.7 often gets lost in the shuffle, even though it was produced well into the 1970s. The 350 was Pontiac’s bread-and-butter option for mid-size vehicles and Firebirds starting in 1968 (it replaced the 326), but the High Output variant was overshadowed by the GTO and Firebird 400. The 350 HO was rated at 320 horsepower and available in the Firebird HO plus any A-body coupe, convertible, or sedan. For 1969, horsepower jumped to 325 horses for the Firebird HO and 330 for A-bodies. This was the same engine that had been planned for the stillborn Tempest-based “ET” that evolved into the GTO Judge.

Even so, a 3.875-inch bore and 3.746-inch stroke doesn’t equal 350 cubic inches. In fact, it yields 353.42.

Pontiac 326

None of the above engines have the twisted history of Pontiac’s 326. First appearing in 1963, the 326 featured a bore and stroke of 3.781 x 3.746 inches, which equals 336.481 cubic inches. What gives, Pontiac?

Starting in 1955, small GMC trucks with gasoline V-8s began using Pontiac engines. For 1958, GMC took Pontiac’s 370 block and gave it a 3.875 x 3.5625 bore and stroke for a total of 336.107 cubic inches. The following year, GMC took the new 389 and recreated the 336 with new dimensions. An evolution of this engine was made an option for the 1963 Tempest series as a replacement for Buick’s aluminum 215 V-8: two-barrel variants made 250 or 260 hp, depending on compression ratio, and the four-barrel High Output version made 280. But you’ve probably heard the folklore about cubic-inch edicts at General Motors at the time; for smaller cars, that limit was 330 cubic inches. As such, Pontiac called the 336 a 326. According to Pontiac historian Don Keefe, corporate brass caught wind of the transgression and made Pontiac correct the issue. Therefore, from 1964–67, the 326 featured a 3.71875 bore for a more politically correct final displacement.

Know of any other engines that don’t live up to their advertised displacements? Tell us about them!

The post 5 famous V-8s whose displacements stretched the truth appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Hythem Zayed writes: I own a 1965 Mustang with a V-8. From March through October, I drive it about once a week. In the winter months, I start it every week and let it run for 15 minutes. At most, I put a couple hundred miles on the car each year. I have read different opinions on how often to change the oil in this kind of situation, and I cannot seem to find a definitive answer. I figure it can’t hurt to change the oil, but am I wasting money and energy by unnecessarily doing so?

This is really a judgment call based on your personal comfort level. While oil is not hygroscopic like brake fluid (which does attract and absorb water) and doesn’t spoil from sitting like gas does, a small amount of condensation can occur when a warm engine cools off. Regular drives, longer trips, and a properly functioning positive crankcase ventilation (PCV) valve give the engine a chance to cook off that moisture as well as unburned fuel that may have found its way into the oil during hard starting and overly rich warm-up.

Some of my cars have a similar usage profile to yours, and because my garage is a little humid, I’ll typically change the oil after two years, even if the cars have racked up fewer than a thousand miles. On my lightly used 1999 BMW M coupe, I may go three years, as that car starts instantly and has a more sophisticated crankcase ventilation system. I don’t, however, have data from an oil analysis to support any of this. It’s just what feels right to me.

Jim Steinman writes: Where do you come down on the issue of color-changing a car? I’m prepping my 1973 Datsun 240Z for paint, and I’ve never been thrilled with the light brown metallic color.

I’m firmly in the “It’s your car, paint it any color you want” camp, but here are some of the issues. All factors being equal, a mint correct car wearing its original color is going to be worth more than one that has been color-changed, but most cars aren’t mint or correct, so the changed color just becomes one of any number of value factors. There’s no question that a quick exterior-only respray—one where opening the hood reveals the original color—will substantially affect the value of a car. But if that car has been stripped to a shell for body restoration anyway, and if you love this particular car either for sentimental reasons or because you found one with a solid body you could afford but you still dream of owning a fill-in-your-favorite-color-here one, take the plunge. Life is short. After going through the pain of restoration, you should love the color.

Thirty years ago, I repainted one of my cars Signal Red (it was silver), and I’ve never looked back. Notably, Ralph Lauren color-changed his 1938 Bugatti Type 57SC Atlantic coupe, possibly the most valuable car in the world, from Sapphire Blue to black during the car’s restoration. Be aware, though, that the further away your chosen color is from the original manufacturer’s color palette, the more the color will be an expression of your personal taste. That is, you may love the purple metal flake on your E-Type, but if you ever decide to sell it, you’ll likely find that your aesthetic choice has a narrow fan base.

The article first appeared in Hagerty Drivers Club magazine. Click here to subscribe to our magazine and join the club. 

The post Your car’s oil is already 100 million years old—another year won’t kill it appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Multiple automakers have set their course to have entire electric-only product lines. You wouldn’t be called crazy to think the internal combustion engine appears to be in its final years—you would, however, be wrong. The internal combustion engine is alive and well; it’s just in the water, not on the asphalt.

That’s right, all the piston heads out there could be buying boats to use as donor transplants for electric car chassis. Don’t believe it? While automotive engine development is stagnating, Mercury Marine recently announced a naturally-aspirated, 600-horsepower Verado V-12. That’s something that isn’t happening the automotive world anytime soon.

The new Mercury is a outboard engine, meaning the 12 cylinders that combine to displace 7.6 liters are stacked vertically with the outdrive at the base. This engine is especially unique due to a two-speed transmission being incorporated between the crankshaft and propeller. The transmission has a 20 percent gear difference between gears, which is the polar opposite of the 70–80 percent difference between first and second a vintage GM Powerglide trans. That small difference in gear ratio shows how tall and broad the torque curve on this engine is.

Which brings up two items you might be thinking about. Yes, these engines are subject to emissions controls. Also yes, there is at least some concern over efficiency. While the emissions controls and fuel efficiency expectations are both lower than those in the automotive world, they still exist as hurdles for Mercury, yet this V-12 exists anyway.

The outboard design of these engines may seem like a downside to the uninitiated, but the high-horsepower, center-console boat world has been around for a long time, and it is not uncommon to see a craft with three 425-hp units hanging off its transom. To reach comparable power it would take just two of these bad mamajamas, and you would see an increase in efficiency having just two outdrives in the water compared to the three of the other setup. The Verado 600 engines weigh in at a substantial 1200 pounds each, but with a new design that steers using only the outdrive—rather than turning the entire engine—steering is better, and the engines can be fitted easier onto certain hulls.

Converting an outboard like this to use in a traditional automotive application would likely be a huge task, but that hasn’t stop customizers and builders in the past. With electric motors gaining in popularity, it could be lakes and rivers where we go shopping for the perfect piston engine to shove in a project car.

What would you like to see this engine adapted to? Tell us in the comments below.

The post Internal combustion engines are alive and well … in the water appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Turbocharger upgrades make everyone happy. More boost, less drive pressure, and even more whooshy sounds? Sign me up, buttercup. Such was my excuse for upgrading my 1996 Chevy Suburban K2500’s BorgWarner GM-5 when the old snail began to scream like a goat after the bearings finally wore out.

The factory GM-X series of turbos has a rather constricted hot side; they spool up instantly, but the resulting restriction can lead to elevated EGTs and coolant temps when towing heavy loads or climbing long hills. For every 1 pound of boost that my GM-5 makes, it demands 1.5–2 psi of drive pressure to spin. Bringing that ratio closer to 1:1 reaps benefits in fuel economy, power production, and durability. Since the factory unit needed a rebuild, I figured now was a good time to experiment with this philosophy by upgrading to a slightly larger HX35W to reduce drive pressure. That said, even if your goal is just to make a bunch of power, these steps will still help get any turbo set-up for your project.

Why do we need to rotate the turbo?

When you order a turbo, it probably won’t fit your project—even if your engine was already turbocharged, like the 6.5-liter diesel in the Suburban. Some fitment details are obvious—how the exhaust and intake manifold flanges will match up, for instance—but, on top of that, the clocked positions of the turbo’s three main sections will usually need to be rotated so that the inlet of the exhaust housing, the outlet of the compressor housing, and the center cartridge between them align with their new home.

The HX35W I ordered was the type originally fitted to 1999–2002 Dodge Rams with manual transmission-backed Cummins. If I were to have bolted it onto the 6.5’s exhaust manifold, the center cartridge would’ve been upside down and the compressor housing would aim for the sky. I needed to rotate the turbo so that everything would fit an application that was different than the one for which this unit was originally built. Since the HX35W came with a pair of white gloves, I figured we’d make it an occasion.

You’ll need a fairly basic set of tools, and every turbo is a little different. I was able to get away with a pair of needle-nose pliers, a 13-mm wrench, a soft-blow hammer, and a small screw driver; but it’s worth mentioning that, in my particular case, I also had to fabricate a new wastegate. We’ll go over that at the end.

It doesn’t really matter which end you start with on the bench, but we’ll begin with the exhaust housing because it’s the process you’d use if you were throwing it straight onto the manifold. The advantage of rotating the turbo on the bench first, instead of in the vehicle, is that you can inspect everything while having convenient access to the hardware that retains the housings. But if everything’s “close enough” in your case, this process can be easily done on the motor: Rotate the center cartridge first, by loosening the exhaust housing, and the rotating compressor housing last.

The relationship between the cartridge and the exhaust housing is the most critical one. The exhaust housing’s final position is dictated by the angle of the flange on the up-pipe, and we’re essentially clocking the cartridge and compressor housing to its placement. The cartridge is responsible for holding the turbocharger’s bearings, oiling ports, and cooling ports (if water-cooled), and its rotation in relation to the ground is vital to ensure that there’s good oil flow through the cartridge, because the draining action is almost entirely accomplished by gravity. If the oil ports in the cartridge are off-level by more than 5 degrees, according to most turbocharger installation specs, oil can back up as it drips down the wall of the drain port and cause the turbo to leak oil past the seal.

For the 6.5, the exhaust flange to which the turbo bolts is nearly horizontal, so I just matched the cartridge’s drain port to the outlet of the exhaust housing and will double check the cartridge’s position with an angle finder once it’s installed. Once happy, snug it down for now.

With the center cartridge aligned, the compressor housing can be rotated next. In my case, I needed the housing’s outlet shooting dead-right, rotated about 90 degrees clockwise. There can be a little RTV that seals the housing to the backing plate on the cartridge, and a dead-blow or rubber-tipped soft-blow hammer makes gentle work of breaking it loose. While my HX35W used a big spring clip to lock the housing down, some other turbochargers may use a series of bolts or a large clamp.

Once that’s done, go ahead and leave the compressor housing a bit loose; you’ll likely need to fine-tune its position once you’re dialing in the intake’s connections. If your turbo seals the compressor with RTV, it’s a good idea to clean the mating surface and reapply the sealant when you’ve determined the final housing location. Other turbos use an O-ring instead, and a little petroleum jelly or grease goes a long way to preventing the seal from curling or tearing while you’re rotating the housing.

Once it’s on the exhaust manifold, re-confirm that the center cartridge is level, and then rotate the compressor housing to its final position before tightening everything up. Double-check that you’ve retightened all housing connections before you go to start the engine; you don’t want one slipping out of alignment and crashing into the impellers at some 100,000 rpm because you forgot something.

The details

Of course, there’s more to it, but that will ultimately depend on your project’s variables. Rather than going into depth on every possible scenario, I’ll work though some of the things I had to consider in this upgrade other than simply the turbocharger’s rotation.

The wastegate was the biggest modification I had to make. Rotating the compressor housing moved the mounting tabs for the actuator and, for the time being, I won’t be running the 6.5 much beyond stock boost until its fuel curve can be tuned to take advantage of the extra airflow. Making a new wastegate solved the packaging and tuning issue.

You’ll also have to run through your intake, exhaust, oil, and (if implemented) coolant piping to see what needs to be adapted. Since both the HX35W and GM-5 are both T3-flanged turbos, bolting it to the exhaust’s up-pipe was a no-brainer, but the down-pipe out of the turbo still needed to be connected, as did the intake manifold and air filter.

Airflow at the compressor was easy to sort. A 4-inch coupler allows the stock air-filter tubing to fit, while a V-band 2.5-in hose adapter seals the intake manifold to the compressor outlet without cutting off and ruining a perfectly-good V-band flange. (Other people will cut the V-band off the turbo, but this strategy can create boost leaks because it uses the housing as a sealing surface). On the exhaust side, I picked up PT Wiring’s exhaust elbow so that the HX35W would easily bolt to factory-style down-pipes, and sealed up the oiling system with feed and return fittings from Quadstar Tuning. These small details connected the last dots as I fitted the HX35W in place of my 6.5’s tired GM-5, but they’ll all change based on your particular needs.

With everything taken care of ahead of time, the actual install itself went quick and easy. The result is a mild upgrade to make life a little easier on the 6.5 this summer and produce a little extra pull to 3500 rpm, where the original GM-5 would’ve become asthmatic. Remember, engine parts are basically metal LEGO bricks—once you know how to bend the rules a little, you can make any of them fit your project.

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There are a few versions of the well-known yarn about how Ferruccio Lamborghini got in the car business. Some say he was personally insulted by Enzo Ferrari. Some say il Commendatore never granted him an appointment. In a 1981 interview, Lamborghini said that he had owned three Ferraris by the early 1960s. They were always wearing out their clutches, and when he took them back to the factory, Enzo told him: “‘You don’t have the slightest idea how to drive a Ferrari. You’d rather drive your tractors.’” Spurned, Lamborghini supposedly tore back up the road to his tractor and home-heater factories in nearby Cento, determined—as only a hotheaded Taurus can be—to crush Ferrari.

Those who knew him say Ferruccio never worried too much about whether a good story was true or not. Even if this legendary encounter happened, financial logic and incremental thinking were what drove Lamborghini’s attempt to try to skim a profit off of Ferrari’s apparent disdain for his customers. Before he would lay out for a car, the tractor baron wanted to see if he could first produce a satisfactory car engine. What resulted ended up being the Chevy small-block of Italian V-12s, adapted to an astounding variety of vehicles both on land and on water for nearly half a century.

Ferruccio had always loved engines, had been tinkering with them since he was a farm boy in northern Italy. When it came time to create his own, though, the stout, square-shaped Emilian chose to hire others. Unlike Enzo, he was, in the words of Road & Track correspondent Griff Borgeson, writing in 1964, “one of those rare Italian executives who do not have an instinctive aversion to the delegation of personal authority.”

His first hire was Giotto Bizzarrini. The Tuscan son of a wealthy landowner, Bizzarrini had served as an engineer at Alfa Romeo during its postwar revival glory and had also worked at Ferrari on the 250 GTO. In late 1961, at 36, he was swept up in a mass walkout/firing of disgruntled engineers that rocked Maranello (if Enzo was indeed huffy with Lamborghini, perhaps this was the reason), and he was looking for work for his fledgling engineering consultancy, Societa Autostar.

The physics of a reciprocating-piston engine dictate that an inline-six offers the most inherent balance, as the primary vibrations generated by piston motion cancel each other out. The concept of joining two such engines at the crankshaft to make lots of sublimely smooth power has been attracting upscale automakers since Packard pioneered the V-12 in 1915. A four-stroke V-12 supplies a power pulse every 60 degrees of crank rotation, creating such a rapid cadence of pulses that when accompanied by other build choices, such as making the block vee angle 60 degrees, the vibrations are minimal.

Lamborghini had another reason to want a V-12: He loved to flaunt his wealth. Italy’s oppressive taxation of engine displacement meant anyone jockeying a V-12 was the undisputed king of the autostrada—and had definitely come a long way from the farm. Besides, Ferrari had made V-12s an Italian specialty since Enzo became enamored with the Packard in his youth. Ferrari’s illustrious Colombo- and Lampredi-designed 12s, including the 2953-cc unit from the 1962 GTO, were the reigning gold standards of Italian racing and road engines.

Lamborghini commissioned Bizzarrini to do the groundwork, his stipulations being simple: a V-12 with four cams, six carburetors, and an oversquare configuration, meaning a bigger bore relative to the stroke. The wider bore enabled larger valve openings for better breathing, while the shorter stroke permitted higher revs due to the reduced inertial forces of the pistons and rods in motion. The wail from such engines has long been identified as the mating call of an Italian exotic on the run.

Bizzarrini asked to be paid a fixed fee to match the Ferrari’s 300 horsepower, plus a generous bonus for every pony his engine produced over that. It might have seemed like a good deal to Ferruccio at the time, but it meant he didn’t get the exact luxury GT engine he wanted. Bizzarrini focused almost entirely on peak horsepower. In his back pocket was the design for a V-12 screamer sized at 1.5 liters to meet the then-standard for grand prix racing, but it took some finessing (and a lawsuit) to get there.

As with the Ferrari, Lamborghini’s engine used a 60-degree vee angle with a block and heads cast in aluminum, but the similarities largely ended there. Enzo’s engines mainly employed single-overhead camshafts, as did other great V-12s of history, including the Rolls-Royce Merlin. However, Lamborghini wanted double-overhead cams, a mandate that may have been pure vanity. “I think Lamborghini’s thought was, ‘I want it bigger and badder than a Ferrari,’” says Los Angeles-area Lamborghini specialist Robert Huber. “‘If they have three carbs, I want six. If they have two camshafts, I want four.’”

The double-overhead-cam design did allow for more freedom in the valve angles and plug placement, without requiring the extra complexity of rocker arms. It’s a freedom Bizzarrini exploited to construct a deep, semi-hemispherical combustion chamber that had plenty of room for the larger, opposed valves the engine required to breathe efficiently at high rpm. Going with four cams from the start also made the engine’s adaptation to four-valve heads much simpler when they finally arrived in the mid-1980s.

Bizzarrini needed to upsize his 1.5-liter design for the much-heavier GT car Lamborghini hoped to build eventually. The bore and stroke increased to 77 millimeters and 62 millimeters, respectively, making for an initial displacement of 3465 cc, or 212 cubic inches. At not quite 2.5 inches long, the Lambo’s stroke was a compromise between achieving durability and reasonable torque production and making possible engine speeds above 7000 rpm, which was the only way he could beat the Ferrari engine on horsepower. Each of the 289-cc cylinders were capped by relatively large induction and exhaust valve diameters of 42 millimeters (1.66 inches) and 38 millimeters (1.49 inches), respectively, the valves snapping down on soft bronze seats.

The forged-aluminum pistons sported domed crowns with inset cavities to give clearance for the valves. The domes pushed up the compression ratio, but at the expense of obstructed breathing and flame propagation—one reason you don’t commonly see domed pistons today. They ran in iron liners pressed into the block so as to stand proud off the closed deck by a few thousandths of an inch; this pinched the steel-ringed head gasket for optimum sealing.

The crankshaft started life as a 204-pound billet of SAE 9840 nickel-chrome-silicon alloy steel that was machined, polished, and balanced into a beautiful rotating sculpture of counterweights and journals. The V-12’s bottom end had to be strong to keep the long, heavy rotating assembly from bending in the middle at higher revs. Within the deep-skirted crankcase, seven forged-aluminum bearing caps were lined with British-made Vandervell bearing inserts and solidly fixed in place by four studs each.

The Ferrari engine used a single timing chain for both of its cams, driven by a sprocket on the end of the crankshaft. Bizzarrini developed a more complex arrangement for the Lamborghini. Instead of a chain sprocket, he placed a pinion gear on the end of the crank to drive two large helical gears, each sized to turn at half-crank speed on a pair of ball bearings and short axles pressed into the block just above the crankshaft. These gears had incorporated sprockets that each drove a separate timing chain for the cylinder heads.

Bizzarrini packaged this hybrid of a chain-driven and geared-cam arrangement, which obviously needed constant lubrication, all inside the block. That greatly reduced the amount of sealing surface—and potential leak points—at the front of the engine, versus Ferrari’s solution of a separate bolt-on timing-chain case. Dividing the cam-drive duties among two chains meant the accumulated stretch of the chains over time was less than that of a single long chain, so a mechanic wouldn’t need to go in and re-tension the system as often.

Variable valve timing and lift didn’t exist then, so engine designers were stuck choosing one timing and lift profile for the camshafts. High revs or a smooth idle—take your pick. In the Lamborghini, Bizzarrini chose high rpm, grinding the hollow, internally lubricated camshafts with a deep lift and a healthy overlap between the intake and exhaust that let the cylinders breathe at revs. It also produced a lumpier and fairly pungent exhaust at idle from all the unburned fuel escaping while both intake and exhaust valves were open. The cams pushed on flat lifters shaped like inverted cups—the original Italian shop manual refers to them as bicchierini, or “shot glasses”—under which were solid shims for setting the valve lash.

The choice of quad cams resulted in big and bulky cylinder heads, with barely enough space between the heads to slide a hand down. That meant there was no room to put the intake ports in the vee, where they are on comparable Ferrari engines. Instead, the intake ports were incorporated into the crowded valley between the cams, along with the spark plug holes and the head studs.

Although this meant a less-straight path for air flowing down into and across the cylinder, it also made possible the fitting of horizontal sidedraft carburetors (and their associated filter boxes) as well as vertical downdraft carburetors, which is partly what made the Lamborghini V-12 so versatile in the years to come. A six-pack of sidedraft dual-choke Weber 40DCOE carbs, operated in mechanical chorus by an elaborate cable-crank-pushrod system that requires a heavy right foot, is found under the hoods of Lamborghini’s earlier front-engine cars. The sidedraft carbs allowed the company to explore lower hoodlines and more modern, folded-paper shapes in the late 1960s, when Ferrari was still squeezing downdraft carbs under the bulging, big-headlight curves of an earlier era. Indeed, it wasn’t until 1971 that Ferrari responded with its own sidedraft, four-cam 4.4-liter V-12 for the low-slung 365 GTC/4 coupe.

Bizzarrini’s other departures from contemporary mass-production engines included placing the water pump and the oil pump entirely outside the block, the former turned by a cam-chain sprocket, the latter by a keyed notch at the tip of the crankshaft.

Mounted to the company’s new Schenk dynamometer in May 1963, fitted with downdraft carbs, and with a compression ratio in the range of 10.5:1, the first prototype made 360 horsepower once the test engineer eventually cranked it up to 8000 rpm. Bizzarrini put his hand out for his cash, but Lamborghini refused, saying he effectively had a racing engine that would only make 360 horses in an unrealistic test. The two lawyered up and words flew, but, according to the current head of Lamborghini’s historical department, Paolo Gabrielli, Ferruccio probably just paid off Bizzarrini. They parted ways permanently in 1963.

Lamborghini’s next hire was Gian Paolo Dallara, a tall and bespectacled sprig three years out from Politecnico di Milano, where he had been studying aeronautical engineering. Despite being 25, Dallara already had an impressive résumé, having gone first to Ferrari to help launch the company’s initial forays into wind-tunnel testing, then to the Maserati racing program. At Lamborghini, he went to work designing a car for the engine while Paolo Stanzani, another Maserati alum who was working in Ferruccio’s tractor business, got the job of taming Bizzarrini’s engine for road use.

Stanzani dialed back the cam profiles to reduce the horsepower to about 325 but also to raise the midrange torque and improve the idle. He relocated the twin horizontal distributors, each one delivering spark to six of the V-12’s cylinders, from the back of the engine where they would bump into the firewall of any future GT car, to the front where they would run off the exhaust cams. He ditched the dry sump, adding an expansive finned sump that held more than 12 quarts. That vast quantity was a measure to improve cooling as it let oil sit in the underbody airstream for longer to shed heat. Later versions of the engine held as much as 18.5 quarts at a time when most cars got by with 6 or fewer.

With the engine thus showing promise, Lamborghini commissioned the then-relatively unknown designer Franco Scaglione to draw a prototype car and another obscure shop, the Sargiotto Bodyworks of Turin, to quickly gin together a non-running showpiece in time for the 1963 Turin Motor Show. The resulting emerald-green 350 GTV had the face of a whale shark, batwing fenders, six peashooter exhaust pipes, and Lamborghini’s garish signature across both the nose—and, in case you missed that, the rump. It drew smirks, but the Cavaliere was undaunted. Enough forward-looking elements were present that when the more prestigious firm of Carrozzeria Touring got involved, the 350 GT that evolved from the prototype was a car that Ferruccio was willing to put into production.

Everything was done in a rush in those early days of Automobili Lamborghini. Not even two years had passed since Dallara signed on, and finished cars (granted, a mere 13 that first year of 1964) were rolling out of what had a year earlier been an empty farm field near the village of Sant’Agata. The cars as well as their new V-12 were in metamorphosis immediately. After a run of 120 copies of Lamborghini’s initial 350 GT model, the V-12 was bored out to 82 millimeters by substituting the 350’s iron liners for ones with thinner walls. This increased the displacement to 3929 cc.

Dallara upsized the head studs and corrected a problem with Bizzarrini’s original design, likely stemming from its origins as a racing mill. On initial start-up, the engine piped cold, semi-coagulated oil to the cylinder heads where it pooled, reluctant to dribble back to the sump through the six small 10-millimeter drain-back holes. That was fine for a racing engine that’s carefully run up by mechanics so that the oil rises in temperature and thins out before the engine is called on for duty. Demanding the same patience from a civilian blue blood was a recipe for disaster, so Dallara opened up the drain-back holes so that Lamborghinis forced onto the road while still cold wouldn’t starve for oil.

The front of the engine likewise became a game of musical chairs as the 350 GT gave way to the 400 GT, which then led to the increasing complexity of the Islero, Espada, and Jarama models. The two distributors became a single large one, the alternator moved around and then split into two alternators, and a hefty York air-conditioning compressor joined the crowd—as did, later, a power-steering pump.

Racers at heart, Dallara and his cohorts, including New Zealand mechanic and test driver Bob Wallace, wanted to see their V-12 move behind the seats. A longitudinal layout such as that of a Ford GT40, in which the engine and transmission sit on the centerline of the vehicle, would make for a very long car and compress the cockpit space, unless the wheelbase was stretched to an ungainly length. Brainstorming in mid-1965, Dallara, Wallace, and Stanzani threw the company’s V-12 engine, a five-speed transmission, and a differential on a chassis table in the factory and literally moved the components around by hand, arguing and taking measurements.

They realized that their compact little V-12 was just 21 inches in width. Inspired by the transverse-engine, front-drive Austin Mini (as well as Honda’s RA271 grand prix car of 1964, which had its tiny 1.5-liter V-12 mounted sideways, motorcycle-style), the team decided to rotate the V-12 by 90 degrees and drop it in sideways behind the seats. The transmission and differential would sit within a modified engine-block casting, their internals lying parallel to the crankshaft along the engine’s aft side and with a shared oil sump. Besides neatly concentrating the powertrain’s mass in the center, turning the V-12 sideways (which meant running it backward, or counter-clockwise) allowed space within the short, 98-inch proposed wheelbase for a two-seat cockpit to sit fully behind the front axle for better foot room. And it would finally allow Dallara to use racing-style vertical downdraft carburetors, as their height would be tucked in behind the cabin of whatever body the designers drew to clothe the chassis.

Bertone’s newly promoted chief designer, a young Marcello Gandini, took up the project with gusto. The resulting finished car, named after champion fighting-bull breeder Don Eduardo Miura, appeared at the 1966 Geneva show. Buyers swarmed, and over the next five years, the company produced 764 Miuras, the horsepower rising to 380 in the final P400 SV due mainly to a 10.7:1 compression ratio and revised cam timing.

Ferruccio got in the car business to produce luxury front-engine GTs, but the stunning Miura came to define his company’s image. When it came time to replace it in 1972 with the even more outrageous Countach, Stanzani—who took over from Dallara when he left in 1969—once again rotated the V-12 another 90 degrees, now to face rearward. The transmission slotted beneath the seats under a broad tunnel that made the Countach singularly terrible for in-car canoodling, but it concentrated more weight on the car’s roll axis, which improved the handling. Additionally, it meant that the driver shifted gears directly, no cables or linkages required. From the end of the gearbox, a prop shaft ran aft through the engine’s sump to the differential, which was also in the sump.

Backward to go forward

1. When it came time to replace the Miura with the even more outré Countach in 1974, Lamborghini rotated its engine 90 degrees once more and installed it backward. The V-12’s flexibility was again proven with the Quattrovalvole of 1985, which added 48-valve heads to the now-5.2-liter block to produce 420 horsepower in the federalized, fuel-injected model.
2. Out-of-the-box thinking saw the rear differential incorporated into the engine’s sump, just below the water pump, distributor, A/C compressor, and other accessories normally found at the “front” of an engine.
3. Dished pistons and four-cam heads were new in the Countach QV, but the block was much as Bizzarrini had designed it in ’63. An E ticket for drivers, it was a nightmare for mechanics.

Such inverted thinking proved the best way to power a lunatic vehicle that was more art than automobile, even if the long stack of transmission, engine, and differential needed to be stuffed through the Countach’s small porthole of an engine hatch at an almost vertical angle at the factory. The design forced a switch back to sidedraft Webers, albeit with larger throats sized at 45 millimeters, which cut the first Countach’s rated horsepower down to 375.

Ferruccio Lamborghini sold his last stake in the company in 1974, leaving further development of the V-12 to a series of pie-eyed investors who lined up to be bled dry by the needs of a boutique automaker facing the onslaught of increasing regulations. Tight finances meant continuous life extensions for the aging V-12, and it grew in the Countach—first to 4.8 liters, then to 5.2, the latter getting the four-valve cylinder heads and Bosch K-Jetronic fuel injection to make 455 horsepower.

Desperate for cash, Lamborghini’s management branched out, bidding on a series of engineering projects, including building a military vehicle for the Saudi army. When that project fell through, Lamborghini put the LM002 truck into production in 1986 as a luxury off-roader using a version of the 5.2-liter V-12. Lamborghini’s association with another alternate form of transport, boats, dates back to 1969, when Ferruccio installed a pair of the company’s V-12s in his personal Riva Aquarama speedboat. So, in 1984, Lamborghini began supplying engines to offshore powerboat racers, the displacements rising to 9.3 liters and the output to around 900 horsepower.

Lee Iacocca became the company’s next angel, ordering Chrysler to purchase Lamborghini in 1990 and flushing it with money. The resulting Diablo replaced the 16-year-old Countach and added computer management to the now-5.7-liter V-12 to make it compliant with U.S. emissions and onboard diagnostic rules. The block grew upward with the increased displacement and also split around the bottom. A bolt-on girdle with integrated main-bearing caps was tied together in one casting for greater strength, replacing the original’s individual bearing caps. Programmed in-house—long a source of pride for the company—the Lamborghini Injectione Electronica (LIE) modules gave the V-12 precise control of the spark timing and port fuel-injection system with circuit boards sourced from an Italian supplier that made computers for gym equipment. The Diablo’s horsepower (472) and torque (428 lb-ft) rose accordingly.

Eventually, the Diablo’s V-12 punched out to 6.0 liters and made 550 horsepower with help from a two-stage variable-cam-timing mechanism. But Chrysler walked—no, ran—away in 1993, leaving Lamborghini in the hands of an Indonesian conglomerate that barely kept the company afloat until it was scooped up by Volkswagen’s Audi subsidiary in 1998. Still, the last remnants of the old V-12 design—mainly its upper crankcase—soldiered on for another dozen years, through the introduction of yet another new scissor-door Countach descendant, the Murcielago. The final 6.5-liter iteration in the Murcielago LP670-4 SV finished the engine’s long run making 661 horsepower, more than twice the output of Lamborghini’s first V-12.

The original V-12 (and its descendants) outlasted its patron, who died in 1993. His engine owed its longevity to its flexibility—to some extent a byproduct of early decisions that may have been entirely ego-driven—as well as a chronic lack of funds for replacing it.

The engine in all its forms went into just over 12,000 cars, and the factory has put many parts back into production to make it easier to keep running the 85 percent of them thought to still be roadworthy. The Cavaliere never did crush the Commendatore, but Ferruccio Lamborghini firmly inscribed his name into automotive history, a name often spoken in reverence to the music of 12 trumpets wailing.

The post Lamborghini’s first V-12 lived large for 48 years appeared first on Hagerty Media.

If you’ve ever been down the engine-building rabbit hole far enough, you know there’s an endless number of imagine-if powerplants. With the right tools and enough time, a builder can treat whole cylinder heads like Lego bricks, piecing together a rotating assembly to make everything work together—which is exactly what mechanical engineer Craig Williams has begun to do with this Honda K24-based build.

Williams’ creation will use a pair of K20/24-based billet heads machined by PPR Motorsport and arranged somewhat like those in a traditional small-block, in which the same basic cylinder head is used on each side. In contrast, most overhead-cam V-8s use a unique cylinder head on each bank, each with its required timing components. Williams’ arrangement does require a timing chain on the front and rear of the engine block, but it simplifies the engineering and machining process in a number of ways. By choosing to not reinvent the wheel, Williams can mimic Honda’s core design and avoid the headache of creating and validating a new set of tensioners and chains—the possible harmonic consequences of tying together four cams.

Instead of placing the intake in the valley between the cylinders, this custom motor will route the exhaust through the vee of the engine. This arrangement was necessitated by the placement of the timing tensioner bolts in the block; Williams had to make sure the bolts wouldn’t interfere with the internal oil passages. By swapping the intake and exhaust from their conventional down-draft configurations, the cams (and their timing chain setups) also swapped positions; this flip moved the tensioner to a better position on the motor.

Given that the K24’s doubled displacement is roughly 4.8 liters, the internet community quickly began comparing William’s prototype to Ford’s 5.0-liter Coyote, leading Williams to do the above overlay, which shows how much more compact his new V-8 would be. His new motor is slimmer, though the widths of the two overhead-cam V-8s are similar.

It doesn’t take long to start dreaming of the vehicles into which you could shove Williams’ powerplant. An S2000 is the easy choice, but what about a first-generation NSX? Its reputation as the poor man’s Ferrari came partly from the modest V-6 under the rear windshield—a situation that’s easily remedied with this all-Honda flat-plane V-8!

The project is making its public debut after five years of initial development work involving scanning and modeling the original K24 (bought at a U-pull-it, naturally) before designing an engine block and rotating assembly to support the K24’s heads.

The post Don’t call it a Coyote: This Honda K24-based V-8 could be a 990-hp banshee appeared first on Hagerty Media.

I got a text recently from one John Adams in El Cajon near San Diego, inviting me to come help shove a rebuilt engine back into a chassis. Now, anyone who has received an invite to an engine-install party knows that it can go one of several ways. The car owner can be fully prepped and the engine is ready to slide in, as if doused in Vaseline. Or there are still six jobs undone, including figuring out why the crank pulley has half an inch of play, and one penlight to be shared as darkness descends on an open driveway.

John was ready, and several neighbors pulled up lawn chairs to watch the proceedings. After all, it’s not every day that you get to witness a 3.3-liter Bugatti straight-eight being shoved back into one of the three Bugatti Type 64 chassis known to exist in the world. And the day’s agenda not only included the shoving; gas would be burned if all went well.

John and his brother, Rick Adams, own five Bugattis between them because their father, Richard Adams, got hooked on these odd French carriages back when most Americans could more easily rattle off the cast of The Dick Van Dyke Show than tell a Bugatti from beef stroganoff. As John tells it, one day in 1947, his dad stumbled on a story in Esquire magazine by one of the founding fathers of automotive hackery, Ken Purdy. It was titled “Kings of the Road,” and life at the Adams household was never the same after that. John’s dad eventually acquired nine of the machines from Molsheim.

There, in the Alsace region, toward the end of the great interwar period of art deco French styling, Jean Bugatti, son of Ettore and a self-styled artist who imbued the brand with much of its trademark flamboyance, penned the Type 64. It was meant to be another flowing, futuristic sports streamliner with a rakishly low roof punctuated by what Bugatti termed “papillon,” or “butterfly” top-hinged doors. Unfortunately, Jean Bugatti’s premature end came in August 1939 in a tumbling Type 57, and only three chassis were built. Sculptures themselves, made of curvaceous aluminum-alloy trusses bridged by exquisite cast-aluminum firewalls and crossmembers, the three chassis were squirreled away from the Nazis in various stages of completion. The first chassis received a body with conventional doors and is now in the former Schlumpf collection in France. The third chassis never had a body, until current owner Peter Mullin commissioned a wild creation for it in 2012. The second chassis sits on jack stands in John Adams’s garage in El Cajon.

After the war, that chassis went to Belgium, where it was made drivable with a sporty boattail body from a no-name local builder. Richard Adams spotted an ad for it in a British Bugatti club rag in 1960 and bought it via letters written by hand and dropped in the mail. When the car eventually arrived after a 10,000-mile sea journey from Antwerp through the Panama Canal to the B Street Pier in San Diego, John and his dad went down, put gas in the car, and drove it home. Not long after, it needed to come apart for various reasons, and the car stayed apart until John started restoring it in 2016. “I haven’t heard that engine run in 55 years,” he told me.

It was my honor to work the hoist for a bit, slowly inching the big dual-overhead-cam unit, a gorgeous ingot of machine-turned aluminum, down and rearward until the mounting bolts could be inserted. John was ready with the radiator, some improvised hoses, and a small plastic gas tank from a lawn mower. After the hookups were made, the engine cranked, and it lit with a melodic roar from all eight cylinders. John worked the throttle with an intense face while a cheer arose from the onlookers. Mission accomplished, and in only about three hours.

It’s not drivable, though; much work is left, including pulling the engine again to fix clearance issues with the oil filler. It is, after all, just a car, with bolts that fit wrenches turned by devoted folk who cheer when an engine first breathes life. Keep an eye out—you may get a text from someone like that inviting you to a party. You should grab a mask and go.

The post A Bugatti straight-eight reuniting with its Type 64 chassis is a sight to behold appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Brooklynn writes:

Hi, I have a 2002 Chevy Impala 3.4-liter with a bent connecting rod and broken piston. My fiancé and I got into a debate on if the car could still run with only five pistons functioning and one completely removed, or if it would have coolant mixing in with the oil somehow. I don’t think the pistons have anything to do with the coolant and oil mixing, but I would like to know who is right here. I’ve Googled it with no luck so I figured might as well ask somebody!

Sajeev answers:

I’m sure there’s a GM Displacement on Demand joke here, but the short answer is yes: Yank out the busted connecting rod/piston, and the Impala will run. The long answer? It won’t run for long, and the duration depends on several things.

Perhaps this is better to list it out:

• Coolant mixing with oil: You are correct about coolant, unless the head gasket also blew during the Impala’s “throwing of the rod.” If so, it’s gonna die quickly.
• Metal shavings: A bent rod implies metal bits fell into the oil pan and will eventually circulate through the system, which will kill the Impala in a matter of miles. But let’s say you got it all out when removing the broken rod, which leads to …
• Unnecessary fuel: That empty void (where the piston lived) will shoot pressurized fuel into the oil pan, which contaminates the oil. At some point contaminated oil overfills the pan to the point at which it drags against the crankshaft’s rotational motion. Disconnect the fuel injector to keep this from happening.
• Shake, shake, shake: The resulting imbalance on a 60-degree V-6 (or any engine for that matter) results in even more internal damage that will eventually kill the motor. But, depending on your commute, you might get days or even weeks of use out of it!

No matter—I appreciate your question and I wish your Impala a short and painless end to its life.

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

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Today’s car enthusiasts adore BMW’s remarkable inline sixes (L-6s), but it’s worth recalling that these engines descended from one of the world’s most astute L-4 designs.

After WWII allies bombed their factories to smithereens, German makers needed a decade or more to rejoin the car business. In 1960, following the failure of the Bayerische Motoren Werke’s attempt to return Germans to the road with Isetta-designed microcars, the company was bailed out of bankruptcy by industrialists Harald and Herbert Quandt. (With assets topping $39 billion, the Quandts are still Germany’s wealthiest family.) That rescue enabled another go in 1962 with a range of small sedans BMW called its New Class.

Engine chief Alexander von Falkenhausen was tapped to design the New Class powerplant. Certain that larger, more powerful engines would be essential to fulfill BMW’s aspiration—cars aimed at aufsteigers (social climbers)—von Falkenhausen unceremoniously rejected the 1.3-liter displacement he was assigned. Instead, he convinced his bosses that 1.5 liters was the appropriate starting size, with room for growth to 2.0 liters absolutely essential. This wisdom ultimately paid dividends neither von Falkenhausen nor his BMW colleagues could have imagined.

Von Falkenhausen—later dubbed BMW’s Baron—joined the Werke in 1934 as a racing motorcycle rider and designer upon graduating from Munich’s Technical University, where one of his professors was aircraft genius Willy Messerschmitt (who later became a leading German armament manufacturer). Von Falkenhausen earned victories in the 1936 and 1937 International Six Day Trials using an experimental rear suspension, which convinced BMW to approve that feature for series motorcycle production. In preparation for WWII, he worked on sidecar applications and armored vehicles, including a tank powered by BMW’s nine-cylinder radial aircraft engine.

After the war, von Falkenhausen won the 1948 German Sports Car Championship driving a BMW 328 and other home-built cars. His own AFM race car manufacturing enterprise failed in spite of his decent Formula 2 finishes in 1952 and ’53 (against Cooper, Ferrari, and Maserati), prompting his return to BMW in 1954. After three years onboard, he became head of engine development.

Defying BMW’s prewar tradition of powering its cars with L-6s, von Falkenhausen selected an L-4 design for his M10 engine to maximize the New Class cars’ cabin space. BMW had ample experience with aluminum for aircraft and motorcycle engines, but von Falkenhausen picked cast iron for the block for two reasons. Though iron weighs nearly three times as much as aluminum per unit volume, it’s 50 percent stiffer. And, unlike aluminum, the iron bore surfaces would be durable without liners or expensive surface treatments—important considerations for a carmaker striving to get back on its feet.

Von Falkenhausen did select aluminum for the cylinder head before that was common practice. One notable exception was Chevy’s Beetle-inspired Corvair, which had aluminum crankcase and head components. Bolt-on parts such as the M10’s front cover, intake manifold, and clutch housing were also aluminum.

A key von Falkenhausen achievement was convincing company superiors that a forged-steel crankshaft supported by five main bearings was a necessary expense. His bosses would have preferred a simpler cast-iron crank carried by three bearings to cut costs. In addition, von Falkenhausen extended the sides of his block (a.k.a. skirts) well below the centerline of the crankshaft to enhance the stiffness of the engine and transmission assembly. A more rigid powertrain combo minimizes flexing at high output levels, thereby reducing noise, vibration, and harshness in the car’s cabin.

Bottom-end rigidity is crucial in any engine with performance aspirations because the crankshaft—a long, kinked rod with each offset mated to a connecting rod—effectively serves as the powerplant’s legs. At high rpm, significant flexing can trip the engine, resulting in the car equivalent of a broken leg.

Tapping his decade of motorsports success, von Falkenhausen configured the M10’s valvetrain with a chain-driven overhead camshaft opening two valves per cylinder via rocker arms. Hemispherical combustion chambers and a bore significantly larger than the stroke provided room for large valves, aiding volumetric efficiency (flow in and out of the engine) at high rpm, thereby raising power without harming fuel economy.

Canting the block 30 degrees from vertical lowered both the New Class’s hood and its center of gravity. Doing so necessitated a specially shaped oil pan.

The resulting M10 1.5-liter with an 82-millimeter (3.23-inch) bore and 71-millimeter (2.80-inch) stroke delivered 80 horsepower at 5700 rpm and 87 lb-ft of torque at 3000 rpm, potent figures for a small engine in the early ’60s. The torque curve was nearly flat from 1750 to 4850 rpm. BMW’s new L-4 weighed about 350 pounds, only 100 pounds more than the VW Beetle’s 40-hp, 1.2-liter flat-four.

Car and Driver first experienced the M10 in its review of a 1963 BMW 1500, calling that boxy four-door “an extremely pleasant and sensible automobile capable of outperforming more powerful cars, including some two-seaters.”

After progressing through 1.6- and 1.8-liter editions, BMW launched its 2.0-liter 114-hp 2002 two-door on a 2-inch-shorter wheelbase for 1968, moving Car and Driver to religious fervor. Reviewer David E. Davis, Jr., rated this BMW “the best $2850 sedan in the cotton-picking world,” and told readers to turn their hymnals to page 2002 to “sing two choruses of Whispering Bomb” (the 2002’s nickname). A 1970 road test of a 2002 equipped with a four-speed manual transmission reported 0–60 mph in 9.6 seconds and a top speed of 111 mph. What BMW had wrought here was the seminal compact sport sedan.

Replacing the M10’s single-barrel carburetor with twin Solex two-barrel side-drafts brought 20 more horsepower and a ti suffix to the 2002’s nameplate. In 1972, fuel injection arrived, raising output to 140 horsepower and changing the model designation to 2002 tii. (The 2002 ti wasn’t imported to the U.S.)

For combustion to occur, gasoline must be vaporized and mixed with air. Unlike carburetors, which simply add liquid drops to the airstream, injection atomizes the fuel into microdroplets that quickly vaporize when exposed to cylinder-head heat. The 2002 tii’s Kugelfischer system was timed to squirt a precise dose of fuel into each intake port in synch with the opening valve.

In general, longer intake manifold runners enhance low-rpm torque due to resonance effects that ram more air into the combustion chamber. Shorter, less restrictive runners increase high-rpm output. While electronically controlled fuel injection had been introduced in the early ’70s to meet tightening exhaust-emission requirements, BMW was late to join that party. The strictly mechanical Kugelfischer system added 26 horsepower, trimmed precious tenths off the 0–60-mph time (9.0 seconds), and added a few mph to top speed.

The M10 L-4 powered more than a quarter-million cars by 1970, becoming so dear to BMW that Austrian architect Karl Schwanzer was commissioned to configure its new Munich world headquarters as four round office towers. Instead of resting on the ground, these 22-floor cylinders are supported by a low-key center structure. A nearby bowl-shaped building resembling a cylinder head houses the company museum. Following four years of construction, BMW’s striking headquarters opened just before the start of the 1972 Summer Olympic games.

The following year at the Frankfurt auto show, BMW presented a 2002 Turbo, the brand’s first car equipped with a boosted engine. The KKK turbocharger teamed with Kugelfischer injection hiked output to a hearty 170 horsepower. Unfortunately, BMW’s timing could not have been worse. Mere weeks after the Turbo’s debut, OPEC switched off the taps, plunging the world into the first oil crisis. Only 1672 Turbos were manufactured, distinguishing that 2002 as one of the rarest and most prized BMWs.

A new 320i, code-named the E21, replaced the aging 2002 in 1976, the year von Falkenhausen retired from BMW. (He died in 1989 at 92.) The faithful M10 carried on in 2.0-liter form in this first 3 Series, now fed by Bosch K-Jetronic fuel injection, a more sophisticated but still purely mechanical system. Emissions controls dropped output to 110 horsepower. That plus 300 or so pounds more curb weight resulted in the 320i’s 10.5-second run to 60 and a 108-mph top speed (clocked by Car and Driver).

In the late ’70s, turbo kits were all the rage to counter the evil effects of emissions controls. Reeves Callaway, a Connecticut motorsports entrepreneur, created an ingenious bolt-on turbo kit for BMW’s 320i in 1977. This $1200 package, distributed through aftermarket specialists Miller & Norburn, worked quite nicely, trimming 2 full seconds off the quarter-mile elapsed time and adding 17 mph to the 320i’s top speed. Callaway went on to turbocharge several other cars, including factory-fresh Chevy Corvettes dropshipped to his installation center. His tuning businesses located on both coasts thrive to this day.

BMW’s venerable M10 also played a pivotal role in motorsports. Von Falkenhausen’s stout 1.5-liter L-4 was relabeled M12/13, bored and destroked to 2.0 liters, equipped with tougher titanium connecting rods, and fitted with a gear-driven twin-cam 16-valve cylinder head for Formula 2 competition, where it produced 300 horsepower. The new head designed by Ludwig Apfelbeck had hemispherical combustion chambers and an unusual radial intake-exhaust-intake-exhaust valve array intended to generate swirl in the cylinder, which enhanced exhaust-valve cooling.

Valve stems poked out the top of each combustion chamber like coronavirus spikes. Intricate rocker arms opened the valves and exhaust pipes sprouted out both sides; intake ports were atop the head between the camshafts. In spite of its complication, BMW’s M12/13 dominated Formula 2, winning six championships in March cars between 1973 and 1984.

In 1982, BMW progressed to Formula 1 with the only engine in the series derived from a mass-produced block. Nelson Piquet had an auspicious start, winning the Canadian Grand Prix in a Brabham powered by a 1.5-liter aggressively turbocharged M12/13 boosted to 640 horsepower. Simplicity versus the twin-turbo V-6s raced by Ferrari and Renault proved to be the M12/13’s secret weapon. Piquet won the World Drivers’ Championship in 1983, the first for any turbocharged single-seater.

By 1986, engineers had tuned this screamer to an awesome 1400 horsepower for qualifying, an intelligent guesstimate because BMW lacked a dynamometer capable of measuring such lofty outputs. That said, there’s little doubt that the BMW turbo M12/13 was the most powerful Formula 1 engine ever to race. During five seasons, it helped earn 15 pole positions, 14 fastest race laps, and nine victories in the hands of Brabham, Arrows, and Benetton drivers.

One snippet of lore shared by Britain’s Ridgeway Racing Engines is that M10 blocks were requisitioned from road cars that had logged 60,000 or more miles to rid their castings of residual internal stresses. The blocks were allegedly seasoned outdoors for several months and occasionally urinated on to infiltrate their cast iron with nitrides for added strength. (Urine contains urea, a hydrogen-nitrogen-oxygen compound, and treating iron with nitrides is a common means of increasing surface hardness.)

In 1987, BMW introduced its fresh M40 L-4, ushering the venerable M10 into retirement. Let the record show it served magnificently for more than a quarter-century, supplying dependable power to 3.5 million BMW automobiles.

Clearly, the visionary von Falkenhausen had wielded a magic wand designing an engine that endured a 17-fold power increase—from its 80-hp beginning to 1400 in F1 qualifying trim. And when BMW needed a potent L-6 to power its upmarket sedans in the late 1960s, the astute von Falkenhausen created fresh 2.5- and 2.8-liter M30 L-6s the most expeditious way possible—by simply tacking two more cylinders onto his celebrated M10. With von Falkenhausen’s brilliance calling the engine-design shots, BMW was off and running with new L-6s that earned lasting admiration from car enthusiasts.

The post BMW’s most significant engine didn’t have six cylinders appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Not all automotive engine designers get the credit they deserve, but occasionally their names carry as much weight as the storied badges on the vehicle’s trunk lid or hood. In no particular order, here’s our pick of legends behind some of the greatest engines of all time.

Tadek Marek

Aston Martin is as English as leather on willow and irresponsible drinking, so it’s fitting that its first straight-six was designed by W.O. Bentley (yes, that Bentley). However, the engines that followed were designed by Pole Tadeusz “Tadek” Marek. Marek studied in Berlin and worked first for Fiat and GM before moving to Britain in 1940 and eventually joining Aston in 1954.

Marek designed the straight-six in the 1950s DBR2 racer and redesigned the earlier W.O. straight-six for service in the DB4—an all-alloy twin-cam straight-six displacing 3.7 liters—originally with a punchy-for-the-period 240 hp, but with as much as 314-hp in the twin-plug DB4 GT Zagato raced by Clark and Moss. Smooth, characterful, and powerful, a good 3.7 still feels potent today.

Marek’s 5.3-liter V-8 arrived in 1969 in the DBS V8 and squeaked into the new millennium in the nose of the twin-supercharged 600-hp Vantage V600, good for a claimed 200 mph.

Paul Rosche

If one thing’s better than an E36-chassis BMW M3 engine, it’s two E36 M3 engines. Paul Rosche developed both the original 3.0-liter straight-six in the M3, and a V-12 built to similar principles (though radically different with an aluminum block and lightweight magnesium cam covers). Making 610 hp at 7400 rpm, the S70/2 is one of the greatest engines of all time and was fitted to one of the greatest supercars ever built: Gordon Murray’s McLaren F1.

Born and bred in Munich, Rosche joined BMW in 1957 straight from college, working under Alex von Falkenhausen in BMW’s engine development department. He went on to work on BMW’s four-cylinder M10 engine that first appeared in 1961; once turbocharged, comprehensively re-engineered, and named M12, that powerplant ran as much as 1500 hp in the back of the Brabham BT52 designed by, yep, Gordon Murray. No F1 engine has ever been more powerful.

Rosche worked for BMW for 42 years, retired in 1999 after signing off on the brilliant E46 M3, and died in 2016 at the age of 82.

Hans Mezger

The name Hans Mezger is almost as synonymous with Porsche as “air-cooled” and “flat-six.” Yet Mezger has more strings to his bow than “only” bringing us the engine in the back of the 911. When he first bagged his dream job in Stuttgart in 1956, it was to work on the diesel engines he didn’t even realize Porsche was fitting to tractors. That led to work on the four-cam flat-four Type 547 engine in the 550 Spyder, and Porsche’s first F1 project in 1960, before he got the 911 gig. It was the start of an association that lasted well into the water-cooled era with GT cars and wrapped up with the incendiary 997-chassis GT3 RS 4.0.

Mezger also developed the entire 917—not just its mighty flat-12—that won Porsche its first two Le Mans. He and mastered other configurations too, most notably the 1.5-liter turbo V-6 that powered Lauda and Prost to F1 world championships in the back of a McLaren.

Loyal to Porsche to the end, Hans Mezger passed away aged 90 in June of 2020.

Bill Blydenstein

Blydenstein initially trained as an aeronautical engineer and was a handy racer too, but his name earned real currency when he developed race and rally cars for Dealer Team Vauxhall in the 1970s. “Baby Bertha” was a Firenza-based saloon with a 500-hp Holden V-8 in which Gerry Marshall won the ’75 and ’76 Super Saloon championships, and even the 2.3-liter slant-four in the roadgoing Firenza HP was blessed with Blydenstein magic. A Chevette HSR prepped by Blydenstein also took Pentti Airikkala to the 1979 British Rally Championship.

When the Dealer Team Vauxhall days were over, Blydenstein turned his hand to tuning road cars, working from a workshop on a farm in Buntingford and renowned for his expertise with hot cams and gas-flowed heads.

Fitting a Blydenstein cylinder head to your Vauxhall unleashed as much street cred as performance, and the name still resonates with boy racers of a certain age.

Gioacchino Colombo

Born in 1903, Gioacchino Colombo was taught how to tell his cams from his cranks by Vittorio Jano during an apprenticeship at Alfa Romeo, but the Italian (you didn’t know?) is most fêted for his work at Ferrari. In fact, Colombo’s 1.5-liter V-12 engine is the keystone of Ferrari—it was developed in the aftermath of WWI to Formula 1 regulations and fitted to Enzo Ferrari’s first ever car, the 125 S of 1947, producing 116 hp at 6800 rpm.

In various guises, 60-degree V-12 Colombo engines powered Ferraris right through to 1988, most famously in the 250 GTO as a 3.0-liter SOHC V-12 with 296 hp. The Colombo engine’s last gasp came with the 412i grand tourer of 1986, but the man himself had actually clocked off in 1950, first to return to Alfa and, later, to Bugatti and MV Augusta.

It’s ironic—and, perhaps, a sign of how small the world of engine design is—that just as Colombo was effectively ousted by Lampredi after his V-12 had performed poorly in F1, Lampredi was ultimately replaced by Jano, the man who’d taught Colombo so much.

Aurelio Lampredi

If Ferrari’s Colombo V-12s were typically smaller and bred for European racing, those created by Aurelio Lampredi were bigger-chested units associated with cars conceived for America—like the 4.1-liter motor in the 340 America and thumping 5.0-liter in the 410 Superamerica.

Ironically, for a man famed for big motors, Tuscan native Lampredi started his career at scooter-maker Piaggio. He quickly progressed to aero engines and joined Ferrari in 1946, working alongside Colombo and later replacing him while still in his early 30s.

His engines weren’t only for cruising U.S. highways; in fact, the Lampredi V-12 was originally designed for Grand Prix racing. British manufacturer Ascari clinched fifth at Spa on the engine’s debut in 1950, and Lampredi power also won the 1951 Mille Miglia and the 1954 Le Mans 24 Hours. Neither was Lampredi a one-trick prancing horse: his twin-cam fours powered Ferrari’s F1 and F2 racers, plus Maranello’s sports cars.

He quit Ferrari to join Fiat in 1955, following Ferrari’s acquisition of the Lancia F1 team and with it, the famed engine designer Vittorio Jano.

Wolf Zimmermann

If the old 6.2-liter naturally aspirated V-8 in AMGs including the C63 and SLS Black Series were personified, it’d probably look a lot like Wolf Zimmermann, who’s equal parts Lemmy from Motörhead and Javier Bardem in No Country For Old Men. He also just happens to be the engineer behind AMG’s first in-house, hand-built engine. Raucous, powerful, and very rock ’n’ roll, the M156 engine is a fitting legacy for a man who’s now left the Affalterbach building.

Zimmermann was lured from AMG for Dany Bahar’s unsuccessful years at Lotus and was busy masterminding an all-new V-8 for the reborn Esprit (with a little help from HWA, so the rumor goes, which ran the Mercedes DTM team) before Bahar was fired.

Zimmermann now works in Ferrari’s F1 engine department; as of March of 2023, he’s leading the project to develop 2026’s power unit. If anyone can produce an engine to overthrow the might of Mercedes and Red Bull, it could well be one of their (former) own.

Mike Costin and Keith Duckworth

Choosing either Mike Costin or Keith Duckworth as the brains behind Cosworth would be like saying that either Lennon or McCartney was more important to the Beatles. The pair founded Cosworth Engineering Limited in 1959 after leaving Lotus and quickly struck gold with a Formula Junior engine based on a Ford road-car lump.

The Ford association continued for decades, and for enthusiasts the Cosworth name and the engines the pair produced are synonymous with the Blue Oval.

Three in particular have been crucial to Cosworth’s success: the DFV, a 3.0-liter V-8 that debuted in 1967 and became the most successful F1 engine of all time; the BDA 2.0-liter four that powered a generation of rear-wheel-drive Escort rally cars; and the 1980s and ’90s YB engine that slotted in all Sierra Cosworth and Escort Cosworths. The last was, in essence. just a humble 2.0-liter Pinto with a trick twin-cam 16V cylinder head and turbocharger, but it dominated Group A touring car racing and could make over 500 hp in the McDonald’s parking lot.

With so many to choose from, these aren’t the only legends in the field of engine design. Share your suggestions for some of the greats in the comments below.

Via Hagerty UK

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The first new 4.5-liter Blower engine to built at the Bentley factory for 90 years is being bench tested on a rig that previously held Spitfire and Hurricane engines.

The original testbeds had long gone, but Bentley did still have a unit for the Merlin V-12 aero engine that was instrumental in winning the Battle of Britain. With the Blower motor held in place it can be rigged up to a modern computer-controlled dynamometer to be put through its paces.

The first test cycle lasts 20 hours to run in the engine, after which it will be fitted to the prototype Blower Bentley Continuation for a full road-test program. Only after this “Car Zero” has completed over 20,000 miles on road and track will Bentley begin production of the 12 pre-sold, $2 million customer cars.

The 4.5-liter engine was designed by W.O. Bentley himself, but “Bentley Boy” Tim Birkin craved more power than the 132 hp W.O. was offering. Birkin got financial backing from wealthy horse and motor racing enthusiast Dorothy Paget and turned to Clive Gallop and Amherst Villiers to build a supercharger. The Roots-type blower was mounted ahead of the engine and radiator and driven directly off the crankshaft. With reinforced internals, including connecting-rods and crank the Blower engine added just over 100 hp.

The Blower Bentley was very quick, but never won a race in 12 outings as it kept breaking down. Bentley will, no doubt, be hoping the extensive testing of the ‘new’ version will make it rather more reliable.

The post Bentley fires up first new Blower engine on a Spitfire test rig appeared first on Hagerty Media.

It’s difficult to have a consistent perspective on horsepower as technology rapidly evolves. When the new-hotness looks nothing like the old-bustedness, it can be especially tricky to trace the family lineage of our favorite powerplants. Thankfully, if there’s one consistency at Chevrolet, it’s the small-block V-8—the venerable pushrod-actuated mill that has powered hundreds of millions of vehicles over its 65-year reign. The engine has gone through a few major revisions, but its 4.4-inch bore spacing and 16-valve pushrod configuration remains at the heart of Chevrolet’s V-8 lineup.

Richard Holdener has been locked away in a dark corner of Westech’s horsepower empire for the better part of his life running engines against the dyno to figure out the truth of the matter when it comes to making power. Today’s featured video is a rare slice into the wealth of data that Holdener’s collected on various engine combos—specifically, on three different small-blocks.

This video analyzes the 1970 LT-1, the 1995 LT1, and the 2017 LT1, three of the General’s small-block offerings that, despite their common foundation, hail from three very different eras of technology.

That original 350-cubic-inch LT-1 enters the arena with 2.02/1.60 valves, an 11:1 compression ratio, and a choppy solid-lifter cam, promising output in the neighborhood of 360 to 370 gross hp. (The number fluctuated largely based on what the marketing team felt like the motor made, depending on the year and application.) Since this motor’s output was originally measured outside of today’s SAE procedures—notably, running with no engine accessories—Holdener’s test resolves much of the debate around the yesteryear’s “underrated” performance options.

In the second corner sits the 1995 LT1, which trades a choppy cam and bigger valves for a 1.94/1.50 combo that benefits low-end torque. Chevy engineers mastered this engine’s 10.5:1 compression ratio on unleaded pump gas thanks to the LT1’s reverse-flow cooling system, which allowed them to avoid detonation cause by increased cylinder pressures.

Finally, we take a look at the 2017 LT1, a 6.2-liter, direct-injected tour de powah that still shares the same basic dimensions of the other two small-blocks but benefits from additional decades of development (and a few extra cubic inches). It brings together the best of the ’70s and ’90s, bumping up compression and valve-lift while maintaining excellent drivability.

We know that this test’s horsepower and torque comparison isn’t the end of the discussion, especially when it comes to picking the engine that’s right for your project. That said, would you consider tossing one of these three small-blocks in your next machine?

The post Tune into this Chevy small-block dyno watch party appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Whether it graces the air dam of a BMW 2002 or the rear of a Porsche 911, there’s something evocative about the word “turbo.” It succinctly symbolizes performance and has become synonymous with speed. Anything and everything that needs a hurry-up is “turbocharged”—from economics and politics to production.

So how did this go-faster gizmo come to be?

The first attempt to use forced induction in an engine dates back to the dawn of the automobile itself. In 1885 Gottlieb Daimler patented a gear-driven pump to boost air flow into an internal combustion engine. Of course, technically that was a supercharger, but it founded the principles of forced induction.

An exhaust-gas-driven turbocharger was patented in 1905 by Swiss engineer Alfred Büchi for a radial aero engine, but it would be wartime before the first prototypes took to the skies. Thereafter it was in massive marine diesel engines that Büchi’s turbos would be first put to commercial use. War would once again see turbochargers doing battle in aircraft including the massive Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress.

It wasn’t until 1962 that any carmaker was bold enough to try turbocharging a passenger car. When they did, the Oldsmobile Jetfire and Chevrolet Corvair Monza appeared within weeks of each other, each with a unique take on the turbo.

The rear-engined, air-cooled Corvair Monza required significant modification to its aluminum, 2.4-liter, six-cylinder boxer engine to cope with forced induction. Heavy-duty connecting rods and main bearings, new piston rings, exhaust valves and a 5140 chrome-steel crankshaft were fitted. The compression ratio was reduced and a single carburetor was attached. The turbo was a Thompson-Ramo-Wooldridge (TRW) unit that could spin to 70,000 rpm and boosted the Corvair’s output to 150 hp—a useful improvement from 102 hp. Confusingly, the Super Turbo Air Monza wasn’t turbocharged—you needed the Spyder model for that.

Meanwhile, over at Oldsmobile things were even more complicated. The Jetfire’s 3.5-liter aluminum-block V-8 stuck with its relatively high 10.25:1 compression ratio and when the Garrett AirResearch turbo was added the engine was prone to knocking. The solution was to inject a spot of “Turbo Rocket Fluid” to the fuel-air mix. A combination of 50 percent methanol and 50 percent distilled water was injected between the carburetor and the turbo. Held in a 4.7-liter tank, it would need to be replenished every 250 miles and, understandably, that put off buyers. It only lasted a year.

Europe’s drivers had to wait until 1973 before BMW turbocharged the 2002. Like the Jetfire, it too was rather flawed, with extraordinary—pause—turbo—pause—lag and pretty terrible fuel consumption. If you could manage the lag it was a quick car for its day, but BMW didn’t give many buyers the chance to find out and it was axed a year after going on sale.

Fortunately, another German manufacturer persevered and the first Porsche 911 (930) Turbo was launched in 1974. It arrived with a 3.0-liter, 260 hp, flat-six-cylinder engine, wider track, trademark flared arches and whale-tail rear spoiler. Dispatching 0-62 mph in just 5.7 seconds and going on to hit a top speed of 154 mph, the 930 was the fastest mass production car in the world and the Turbo legend was born, soon filtering into Formula 1 in 1977, with the Renault RS01.

The rest, as they say, is history. Today, you can grab a Honda Civic for under $23,000 with a 1.5-liter turbo-four. Of course, it’s also possible to pop into your local Bugatti showroom and order a Bugatti Chiron complete with a. 8.0-liter quad-turbo W-16 engine, provided you have $3M lying around.

Not seen this before: @Bugatti engine rig simulates a flat-out run of the @nuerburgring, #chiron #hypercars pic.twitter.com/pwu6IpVQKq

— James Mills (@squarejames) March 18, 2017

Via Hagerty UK

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The annals of history contain plenty of strange designs created by teams working around the rules in the pursuit of speed. To me, the Honda NR750 has to be one of the coolest instances of racing the rulebook, as Honda eschewed over 100 years of development in piston engines and went oval—all because it was combustion-chamber count that mattered, not displacement.

If you’ve never gotten to ride one of these wild machines, now may be your chance. Iconic Motorbike Auctions is auctioning off a 1992 model with 3293 miles, and you’ve got until Friday at 11 a.m. PT to place a bid. What exactly is this bike’s story, you ask? Let’s dive in.

The unusual engineering exercise stemmed from Honda’s desire to stay with a four-stroke engine design rather than switch to the two-stroke design that was popular in Grand Prix racing during the 1980s. The original idea was to increase the cylinder count to eight, arranged in a tidy V, but the rulebook put the kabosh on that by capping the number of combustion chambers at four. Rather than scrap the design, Honda pivoted.
Engineers elongated and connected the cylinders, creating oval-shaped chambers—but only four of them. The oval pistons connect to the crankshaft by eight connecting rods, and the cylinder head holds eight valves per cylinder.

The incredible complexity of the design meant that the engine took longer than expected to reach its potential, and even when it lived up to Honda’s power goals, the bike wasn’t a particularly winning machine. The racing program shifted the NR name onto a two-stroke engine, leaving the oval-piston design as a footnote in the history of Honda’s GP racing program.

Then, in 1992, a crop of street machines finally featured the oval-piston design. Freed from the 500cc GP engine displacement cap, the NR750 boasted a more street-friendly 750cc displacement and produced 125 hp at 14,000 rpm. Thought the engine made five fewer hp and redlined 6000 rpm below the 500cc race version, reliability issues still plagued the design. Most of the 1992 models got tucked away as collector pieces, which is why from time to time great low-mileage examples, such as the one above, come to market. If you are an engineer nerd that loves two-wheeled machines, the NR750 might be just the bike for you.

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There’s a certain point in which a short-term project makes the subtle yet emotionally wrenching transition to a long-term saga. Some of you may know this place as “project hell,” and it usually manifests itself when so many unforeseen issues have piled up that the original timeline has been thrown out the window and you now need a pair of binoculars to even see the finish line.

For my 1987 Jeep Grand Wagoneer (which is currently entering its eighth month of what was envisioned as a winter-long LS swap), Project Hell status activated in the midst of a global pandemic that almost entirely shut down the resources needed to get the SUV back on the road.

In the grand scheme of things, to be sure, this was a small frustration. When people are dying and economies are crumbling, a stalled build sits well down on the list of essential priorities. In the context of the project itself, however, the pandemic time-out was a fitting capper on several months of the one-step forward-two-steps-back learning process that has so far defined my LS engine swap experience. The entire endeavor is becoming an object lesson in how nothing is as straightforward as it first seems when modernizing a vintage truck.

Worse than I thought

After the original owner flim-flammed me about the condition of the 5.3-liter donor engine (which turned out to have a bent rod), I was eager to get the New Year started off right. That meant a January trip to TK Race Engines in Laval, Quebec, to have the hydrolocked block torn down so that the pistons could be replaced.

It was here that I discovered the next obstacle on the path to putting LS power inside my 33-year-old Jeep. TK’s owner, Tom Kolimatsis, quickly determined that the piston-to-cylinder-wall clearance in the engine was measuring .004 inches, which is decidedly terrible when factory tolerances are listed at .0027 inches. Not only had I’d been lied to about the condition of the motor I bought, but the professed mileage was also likely fudged. With that much wear, there was no way the odometer reading the prior owner provided was anywhere close to accurate. It also meant that the set of used pistons and rods I’d purchased for a song ($75) from a local LS builder weren’t going to solve this problem.

“Let me put it to you this way,” Kolimatsis said to me over the phone. “Yeah, I could rebuild the motor using these stock pistons, but within 5000 miles you’d be dealing with oil leaks.”

The secondhand rods themselves could work, but it was time to bore the cylinders and move to .020 inch oversized pistons and rings in order to get back to an acceptable level of clearance. It came out to $360 for the set, combined with a Clevite main and rod bearing kit ($92), a timing chain kit that came with a new oil pump ($84), and a set of main bolts from Summit ($190), all of which were necessary to do the job. Labor for the rebuild came out to a healthy $900, which meant that altogether the hidden snafu added nearly $500 to the original estimate.

Fits like factory

At the very least, once the refreshed engine was back at AGM Performance, there were no further issues in fitting it inside my Grand Wagoneer’s engine bay (aside from a bit of tightness between the exhaust manifolds and steering shaft). Given that I had decided to retain the stock heating and air conditioning system, which was mounted on the firewall, some creativity around battery placement became necessary. Eventually, by rotating the original battery pan to clear the newer and much thicker radiator, Andrew Grubb and his team were able to sit it below the hood. Grubb also fabricated a fan shroud for the electric Ford Taurus fan used to help keep the truck cool ($140) and an air intake that snaked its way from the front of the motor to the air gap on the passenger side.

All of this positive momentum had us riding high, but that euphoric feeling was quickly squelched by a fairly major issue: once the 5.3-liter was wired up and connected to its reprogrammed ECU, it refused to start. To say this was puzzling was an understatement, as running power to individual components provided us with both spark and fuel. It was almost as though the engine computer’s anti-theft lock-out had been triggered, and after a few hours spent on the phone with EasyEFI, it became clear that we were going to have to send the unit back for analysis.

Domino meets domino meets domino

It’s here that part one of the waiting game began. While it didn’t seem important at the time, the wasted week spent trying to diagnose the Jeep’s no-start condition, coupled with the two weeks it took to get the computer back in our hands (with considerable shipping and customs fees attached thanks to its repeat border crossing) would play a major role in shutting down the project cold.

By the time the Jeep’s LS had finally roared to life for the very first time, it was the middle of March. Two weeks later, the provincial government in Quebec ordered all non-essential businesses closed as a result of COVID-19, which meant that the order we had just placed for the custom driveshafts ($840) required to connect the NP241C transfer case to the Grand Wagoneer’s axles was in indefinite limbo.

Oh, and that computer problem? It turns out that the original programmer had simply “forgot to hit save” after reflashing it the first time. If you’re keeping score at home, yes, that means everyone had wasted considerable shop hours trying to start the LS with a computer that still thought it was linked to a 2008 Chevrolet Tahoe, including all of its irrelevant sensors and security protocols. In the process, my mechanic and I also discovered that the motor—or at the very least, the computer—was actually an LY5 rather than an LMG, with the sole difference being that the latter could operate on Flex Fuel if required.

Baby steps toward oblivion

By mid-April, a small bit of good news arrived. Auto mechanics had been declared an essential service in Quebec, which meant that smaller shops were able to re-open as long as they followed the required health protocols. A few weeks after that, my mechanic checked in on the driveshaft shop and was told that my order was in the queue. A couple weeks after that … and you can see where this is going.

Surprisingly, I learned that the shop sitting on my order was only working on “emergency driveshafts,” which was news to me and required clearing up with the well-meaning but largely absentee owner. Five days later, the shafts had been delivered, which meant the project could once again pick up after a delay of nearly a month and a half.

Driveshafts were the final piece of the puzzle in terms of transforming my Jeep from an idling paperweight to an actual, moving vehicle. After so many weeks of waiting, it was more than a little irritating to discover that the front driveshaft had mistakenly been built for the wrong transfer case, requiring a completely different attachment point. Still, it wasn’t the end of the world, and it seemed like a good idea to install just the rear driveshaft so I could put some miles on the Jeep and start to work out any bugs that appeared along the way.

Despite every setback that had occurred so far, I was optimistic. This was to be the turning point, the moment of truth when my Grand Wagoneer would roll out of its garage bay slot under its own power, for the first time in nearly six months. With the rear shaft installed and the truck running, the transmission shifted into gear and…nothing. Despite the muffled sound of gears churning internally, no motion whatsoever was being transferred to either the shaft or the differential.

After a flurry of frantic Internet research and troubleshooting, the problem came into focus. My fear of a bent-and-bad transmission (whose internal condition was still a mystery) were allayed in light of the discovery that the NP241c had come with two different input shaft sizes. My mechanic and I were lucky enough to have the rarest of them all (the larger of the two) which would have to be swapped out (along with a bearing) in order to make my Jeep mobile.

The never-ending story

I had fully intended this to be the section of my engine swap diary entry where I told you what it felt like to finally drive my Grand Wagoneer at full gallop, with a revitalized LS pumping out three times the SUV’s original power and providing the classic platform with the modern heartbeat it deserves.

Given all the obstacles to that goal, you probably won’t be surprised to learn that I have yet to taste such victory. Yes, the Jeep now runs and drives around the shop rather than having to be pushed out of the way—but only just. The current task is chasing down an intermittent stalling issue and a crankshaft position code that’s keeping the motor in “safe” mode, restricting its output and making further tuning difficult. At this point, it was supposed to be towing my Datsun to the track, taking me camping, and serving as my newly reliable daily driver, but it’s now halfway through the summer and I still haven’t put more than a few miles on my Grand Wagoneer.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed by the many different twists and turns toward the dark side that this project has taken. There have been more than a few moments over the last few months where I’ve beaten myself up about all of the cash and time that the Jeep has eaten up, particularly as I browse online classifieds and am confronted by all of the (seemingly) problem-free vehicles I could have bought with what I’ve now spent chasing a quixotic LS dream.

Still, all it takes to steer me back toward the sunlight is to visit the automotive infirmary where my Jeep currently sits. Standing there in its presence, inhaling its outgassing plastics, and running my hand along its weathered paint and “wood” paneling, I’m reminded of all the reasons why I began this by-now arduous project in the first place. Even on the days where I’m wishing I could just walk away from it all, a quick trip to the shop reignites my passion for the build and reminds me that although the path I’ve chosen to walk might be a foolish one in the purely logical sense, it’s at the very least also been a conscious one. As with most decisions to pursue classic vehicle ownership, sometimes when the heart leads, you can’t predict what turns the path will take.

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Conventional gas and diesel engines do a commendable job serving car and truck owners’ needs, but futurists insist that electric motors will eventually supplant them as the power source of choice. Some 50 years ago, a similar situation cropped up: Mazda’s ultrasmooth rotary engine had bright hopes of sending pistons the way of the buggy whip. With Mazda celebrating its 100th birthday this year, what better time to toast the brand’s most ambitious technical stride?

First things first: Mazda didn’t invent the rotary. It was German Felix Wankel who, in the 1920s, drew inspiration from pumps, compressors, and turbines to create an engine without the stop-start, up-down reciprocating motion of pistons and connecting rods. After working on disk valves and rotary compressors, the self-taught engineer earned a 1934 patent for an engine consisting of components that rotated, with no hint of reciprocation. Since the Otto-cycle gas engine (which powers most of our cars today), Rudolf Diesel’s compression-ignition concoction, and Karl Benz’s two-stroke all arrived late in the 19th century, Wankel’s rotary was the 20th century’s only new engine type.

Following more than two decades of experimentation, in 1957 Wankel finally persuaded NSU Motorenwerke, a leading German motorcycle manufacturer, to construct a prototype engine. It produced 28 horsepower at 17,000 rpm from only 125 cc of displacement. But the 1957 design was flawed. Both the rotor and its housing rotated, an arrangement totally impractical for mass production; changing the spark plug required a complete teardown. Unbeknownst to Herr Wankel, Walter Froede, a fellow NSU engineer working down the hall, created an elegant variation with a fixed housing. Though Wankel scorned, “You have turned my racehorse into a plow mare!” the rotary we know and love today descended from Froede’s simplified design.

In 1960, NSU and the U.S. aircraft manufacturer Curtiss-Wright (CW) signed an agreement to promote the new engine’s development. Wowed by performance claims, more than 20 British, European, Japanese, and American manufacturers took the bait, signing licenses in hot pursuit of rotaries for automotive, aircraft, marine, motorcycle, farm implement, and military applications. The Soviets also carried out experiments without paying a ruble in fees. Recognizing the rotary’s tremendous potential, Mazda was an early adopter. The formal agreement between NSU and Mazda was signed in July 1961.

Rotaries are fundamentally simpler, lighter, and more compact than piston engines. A triangular-shaped rotor orbits within a chamber to convert combustion energy to torque delivered to a shaft rotating at the engine’s center. There are no connecting rods or camshafts opening and closing valves. Instead, as the rotor sweeps past ports in its housing and/or side covers, a fresh mix of fuel and air enters the moving combustion chamber while spent gases are swept out the exhaust port. Counterweights attached to the output shaft cancel vibration. Thus the rotary’s ace in the hole is supreme smoothness: one power pulse every turn of the output shaft versus one every other turn for single-cylinder four-stroke piston engines.

Touting the rotary’s size and weight advantages, CW compared its RC2-60 rotary engine to a 1960s-era 283-cid Chevrolet V-8. The 185-hp rotary weighed 237 pounds compared to the 195-hp V-8’s 607 pounds. Although the rotary occupied only 5.1 cubic feet of space, the V-8 was more than four times larger, at 23.2 cubic feet. The number of individual components in each engine was also dramatic. The Chevy engine had just over 1000 parts, 388 of which moved, as opposed to the rotary’s 633 parts, only 154 of which moved. The rotary’s size, weight, simplicity, and smoothness were undeniable.

In our cutaway drawings, take note of the center of the engine. That’s where the eccentric shaft resides, a device functionally similar to a piston engine’s crankshaft. It is supported by a bearing at each end, also like a crankshaft. Near its middle, there’s an offset journal called an eccentric, which functions exactly like a conventional crank’s throw.

The rotor is a triangular-shaped component about 3 inches thick. The distance from its center to each tip, or apex, is roughly 4 inches. This hardworking element performs piston, connecting rod, and valvetrain duties. A plain bearing lining the rotor’s center mates with the aforementioned eccentric shaft journal.

The rotor’s orbital motion is a two-part symphony driven by combustion pressure on one flank following ignition. This pressure forces the rotor to spin like a pinwheel on its eccentric journal. The eccentric also moves because the rotor pressure is asymmetrical (offset, from one flank only). To keep this compound motion in sync, there are two phasing gears. The smaller one, located at engine center, is fixed; this gear’s external teeth mesh with the rotor’s internal gear teeth. A 2:3 gear ratio yields three full turns of the eccentric shaft for every 360 degrees of rotor motion. To visualize the overall kinesis, think hula hoop: rotor spin compounded by eccentric-shaft rotation.

The moving rotor’s apexes define a path called an epitrochoid. (Google this word for an extra helping of confusion.) The rotor housing mimics this shape—what resembles a figure eight in our illustration—to keep the apexes permanently within half a millimeter (0.02 inch) of their confines. Think piston-to-bore clearance. Add a plate covering each side of the rotor and you have a contained volume. As the rotor orbits, the changing space between each of its three flanks and the rotor housing supports the four standard Otto-cycle operations: intake, compression, expansion (power), and exhaust. The rotary’s parlor trick is that three of these cycles occur simultaneously.

As with a two-stroke engine’s pistons, the rotor exposes ports as it rotates to admit fresh fuel-air charges and to broom out exhaust. Ignition occurs when spark plugs fire on cue through small holes in the rotor housing. Due to the long, thin shape of each combustion chamber, Mazda uses two spark plugs firing sequentially to light the compressed fuel-air charge.

The rotary engine’s operation sounds simple and elegant once you grasp the subtleties, but developing one to provide years of faithful service was a feat; there are vexing issues galore. The hardworking rotor and its housing must be kept within tolerable temperature limits. Air cooling has worked in a few applications, but the more common approach is to circulate the lubricating oil through the hollow rotor to cool it while also routing a water-antifreeze mix through internal passages to cool the rotor housing and side plates. Unlike a piston engine’s cylinder, which is cooled by the fuel-air charge once per cycle, the spot where combustion occurs in a rotary remains permanently hot. As a result, keeping ample cooling flow through that area of the engine is critical—and difficult. Seals that keep the cooling, lubricating, and working fluids in place have posed the tallest developmental hurdles. For some idea, compare the five-part piston ring set of a conventional engine with the 30-or-so parts required to seal each rotor’s apex and flank surfaces.

Following years of development, NSU won the race to production with its 1964 Spider. Unfortunately, the single-rotor engine’s apex seals weren’t perfected by the time the two-rotor NSU Ro80 luxury sedan arrived three years later. A common salute when one Ro80 owner encountered another such soul on the road was a multi-finger wave to signal the number of engines replaced. Modest sales and high warranty claims drove NSU so near bankruptcy that in 1969, its assets were taken over by Volkswagen.

The first durability issue Mazda discovered after commencing rotary research in 1961 was chatter marks across the inner surfaces of the rotor housing caused by apex seals resonating (skipping along) as they swept over that area. The Japanese termed these “nail marks of the devil.” Before Mazda launched its first rotary, the 1967 Cosmo 110S two-seat coupe, engineers made sure that chatter-mark and apex-seal issues had been resolved. A small flat spring combined with combustion pressure behind each seal helped press them in touch with the rotor housing. For the seals themselves, Mazda experimented with self-lubricating carbon, various sintered metals, and cast iron “chilled” and shaped by an electron beam. To ease the seal’s sweep over the housing surface, oil was metered with the incoming fuel-air mix, a technique borrowed from two-stroke engines. Ultimately, Mazda achieved a durable rotor housing by lining an aluminum casting with a thin sheet of steel finished with an electroplated-chrome wear surface.

Strapping several rotors together to build a larger, more powerful engine is complicated by the fact that each rotor must be inserted from the opposite end of the eccentric shaft during assembly. That’s easy in a two-rotor setup, but combining three or more requires an awkwardly long eccentric shaft or an intricate coupling of two eccentric shafts.

The mix of materials Mazda chose to make its engines durable—aluminum housings, cast-iron rotors and side plates, steel eccentric shafts—resulted in widely varying expansion rates, which hindered the design and development of the O-rings responsible for sealing coolant passages. Since the rotary was born when gas cost pennies a gallon, fuel mileage wasn’t a concern. But in the mid-1970s, following the first energy crisis, the EPA began measuring and reporting mpg, exposing the Mazda rotary’s poor efficiency.

The problem of efficiency was two-fold. The ample surface area defining the rotary’s combustion chamber results in substantial energy loss to the cooling system. In addition, a portion of the unburned fuel-air charge is simply swept out of the engine as exhaust. To curb tailpipe emissions in 1970 U.S. models, Mazda employed a thermal reactor that mixed fresh air with the exhaust constituents to continue combustion outside of the rotor housing.

Bitter fights soon ensued between Mazda and the EPA over urban mileage tests that included cold starting. Mazda demonstrated real-world results better than EPA figures, and the government did begin efforts to align its procedures more closely to customer experiences, but the damage was done: Mazda’s rotary-powered cars were stuck at the thirsty end of their size class. During a 40,000-mile test of a Mazda RX-2, Car and Driver recorded city driving mileage as low as 14 mpg and rarely topped 18 mpg on the highway. The only saving grace was that rotaries were happy swilling regular-grade gasoline.

Emissions were a related issue, but here the rotary enjoyed one advantage. Because its peak combustion temperatures were below those typical of a high-compression piston engine, there was less formation of polluting oxides of nitrogen (NOx). Unfortunately, that plus was offset by the rotary’s long, flat, moving combustion chamber, which is hardly the ideal way to achieve a complete fuel burn. As stated, unburned fuel-air mix was simply swept out the exhaust port, raising hydrocarbon (HC) and carbon monoxide (CO) emissions in the process.

General Motors, the world’s most prominent rotary license holder, invested heavily in this engine. This included a manufacturing plant tooled and ready to produce what it called a Rotary Combustion Engine for the 1975 Chevy Vega and for AMC’s Pacer. Difficulty meeting emissions standards and poor fuel economy forced cancellation of those plans. In fact, the plug was abruptly pulled the instant GM president and rotary advocate Ed Cole retired in September 1974.

If GM could not solve the rotary riddle, who could? Hercules/DKW, Norton, and Suzuki did enjoy modest success building and racing rotary-powered motorcycles. Arctic Cat and Outboard Marine offered them in snowmobiles. Mercedes-Benz had high hopes with its magnificent three-and four-rotor C111 Gullwing sports cars, but Citroën went bankrupt developing its Comotor engine. There have been plenty of aircraft and helicopter experiments and hundreds of home-builts powered by Mazda engines. Ultimately, though, Mazda became the last manufacturer standing mainly because of its patient, persevering rotary engine devotion.

Such devotion was certainly encouraged by motorsports success. Along with turbines, rotaries thrive on track. With no reciprocating parts or valvetrain fragility, they love to rev. Huge intake and exhaust passages with minimal flow restriction are an easy upgrade. Except for their notably high fuel consumption, rotaries run for hours on end with minimal need for pit stops. They also shriek like furious banshees, requiring huge mufflers to curb their din, because hot, flaming exhaust gas leaves the combustion chamber unimpeded by valves. Even with earplugs inside a helmet, your author suffered two days of partial deafness after codriving an RX-7 at Daytona in 1979. Bonneville spectators wince every time a rotary leaves the starting line.

Sanctioning bodies struggle comparing rotary engine displacement to that of piston engines. The Southern California Timing Association, which oversees salt flats competition, bought the one-power-pulse-per-output-shaft-revolution argument (versus a piston engine’s two turns) to assign rotaries a 2:1 “correction” factor. Other bodies, such as the FIA, justified 3:1 by the fact that each rotor has three working side surfaces. Some agencies simply banned rotaries outright, especially after witnessing their speed and reliability. In 1968, anxious to strut its stuff, Mazda campaigned two race-prepped Cosmos at the 84-hour Marathon de la Route staged at Germany’s Nürburgring. One entry dropped out after 81 hours with axle failure; the other finished a surprising fourth behind two Porsche 911s and a Lancia Fulvia.

By 1976, Mazda RX-3 coupes had logged 100 victories in Japan. In 1979, the RX-7 launched its illustrious competition career with first-and second-place GTU class finishes at the 24 Hours of Daytona. Mazda’s sports car ultimately earned the GTU series championship 10 times, including eight consecutive titles.

Privateer assaults on Le Mans commenced in 1970, with the first rotary finish requiring a decade of effort. Respectable class finishes followed in the 1980s. Mazda’s day finally arrived in 1991 when its wailing four-rotor 787B thumped the Jaguar and Mercedes factory efforts to win overall, the first Le Mans victory by a Japanese manufacturer.

Even without seemingly essential all-wheel drive, Mazda RX-7s finished as high as third overall in World Rally Championship events during the 1980s and ’90s. And in 1994, Norton won the British Superbike Championship with its RCW588 ridden by Ian Simpson.

Unlike 20 or more enterprises around the globe that failed to advance the rotary’s cause, Mazda stuck with this engine through thick and thin for 44 years. Production ceased with the last RX-8 in 2012. In truth, the introduction of the magnificent piston-powered Miata MX-5 sports car in 1989—only a decade after the RX-7’s birth—marked the beginning of the end.

Despite its relative longevity beneath a Mazda badge, the rotary’s service record was hardly perfect. A rash of O-ring seal failures in the 1970s forced Mazda to operate an engine rebuild center near its U.S. headquarters in Irvine, California, to service warranty claims. RX-8s had a reputation for high oil consumption, and poor gas mileage was a concern from the start.

Piston engines got lighter, more powerful, more efficient, and cheaper to build at a faster rate than the rotary, mainly because only Mazda championed its cause. When Mazda’s engineering, manufacturing, and ownership allegiance with Ford ended in 2015, the small Japanese brand became totally responsible for its future. In 2017, Kenichi Yamamoto, who guided rotary development from the beginning and later served as Mazda’s president and chairman, went to rotary heaven without a successor who shared his passion.

That said, various Mazda powertrain directors have touted the rotary’s suitability as a range extender for gas-electric hybrid applications. The engine’s size, shape, and centered output shaft match electric generator characteristics nicely. And operating the rotary at a constant speed and load would diminish its emissions and fuel efficiency shortcomings. If the brand is truly serious about advancing the hybrid cause, there’s a chance the rotary just might outlive its piston engine nemesis. That was the hope all along.

As the rotor turns

10A:

1970–’72

A 982-cc two-rotor with 4-bbl carburetor making 100–120 hp in the R100 coupe. Built under license from NSU, Mazda’s first rotary sold in North America incorporated notable advancements in apex-seal design to improve durability. The water-cooled rotor housings were aluminum castings; rotors and side housings were made of cast iron.

12A:

1971–’78

An 1146-cc two-rotor with 4-bbl carburetor making 120 hp in RX-2 and RX-3 coupes and sedans. To add power to propel larger and more sporting models, rotor width was increased by 10 mm (0.39 in). Basic engine design and materials were otherwise carried over.

1979–’85

An 1146-cc two-rotor with 4-bbl carburetor making 100 hp in the RX-7. Like the 10A design, the larger 12A featured intake ports in its side housings and peripheral exhaust ports. Peak torque occurred at 4000 rpm, and the power curve crescendoed at 6000 rpm.

13B:

1974–’78

A 1308-cc two-rotor with 4-bbl carburetor making 135 hp in RX-4 coupes and sedans, Cosmo coupes, and pickups. Another 10-mm (0.39-in) increase in rotor width boosted displacement, torque, and horsepower. The torque peak remained at 4000 rpm, but peak power now occurred at 6500 rpm.

1984–’86

A 1308-cc two-rotor with fuel injection making 135–146 hp in the RX-7 GSL. The addition of Nippondenso electronic fuel injection yielded a broader torque curve peaking at a streetworthy 2750 rpm. A sophisticated engine management system, relocated spark plugs, dual mufflers, and lighter rotors for 1986 raised output to 146 hp at 6500 rpm and boosted torque another 4 percent to 138 lb-ft at 3500 rpm.

1987–’95

A 1308-cc turbo-charged two-rotor with fuel injection making 182 hp in the RX-7. Adding a twin-scroll Hitachi turbo (6.2 psi of boost), an intercooler, and a detonation sensor yielded speedy throttle response, with peak power at 6500 rpm, and a healthy 183 lb-ft of torque at 3500 rpm. Remarkably, there was little or no loss of fuel economy over the previous naturally aspirated rotary.

1991-’95

A 1308-cc twin-sequentially-turbocharged-and-intercooled two-rotor with fuel injection making 255 hp in the RX-7. Bosch D-Jetronic injection metered fuel to three side intake ports per chamber. Torque peaked at 5000 rpm, power at 6500 rpm, and the redline was an enthusiastic 7500 rpm.

20B:

1990–’95

A 1962-cc twin-sequentially-turbocharged-and-intercooled three-rotor with fuel injection making 276 hp in the (Japan-only) Eunos Cosmos. Internal dimensions were identical to 13B engines, but a two-piece eccentric shaft and special assembly procedures were required.

R26B:

1991

A 2616-cc four-rotor with fuel injection powered the 900-hp 787 and 787B sports prototypes at Le Mans, winning the 24-hour race in 1991. The engine had three spark plugs per rotor and peripheral intake and exhaust ports.

Renesis:

2003–’12

A 1308-cc two-rotor with fuel injection and side exhaust ports making 207–247 hp in the RX-8 2+2 coupe. This was a new design with exhaust ports moved to the side housings for improved efficiency. Two versions were offered, with modest and competitive power outputs and a remarkable 9000-rpm redline.

The post Engine revolution: Mazda’s rotary and its uncertain future appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Joe writes:

I have a 2003 Dodge Ram van with a 5.2 with 207,000 miles. I bought it four years ago with 195,000 miles and use it to help me remodel houses in Florida. The Carfax and records indicate regular maintenance since new while it was owned by a local HVAC company before I purchased it. The engine starts almost instantly and does not knock when cold. After coming up to normal operating temp, I get a “soft” regular knock knock knock at idle. The knock doesn’t sound heavy like a rod and doesn’t sound tinny like a valvetrain issue. It is definitely not an injector tick, more of a clunk/knock and it sounds like it would be on only one cylinder/piston.

Here is the best part: It disappears completely just above idle. Is this piston slap? What causes piston slap? It doesn’t smoke or use oil.

Sajeev answers:

Thank you for your detailed explanation of the problem. This is probably not piston slap because it only happens when warm: A cold engine has wider engine tolerances (in the piston rings to the cylinder bore, to be exact) while warmer ones are tighter and therefore less likely to slap. But if this assessment makes you say,

“Wait one second there, Sanjeev! You condemned a Jeep to piston slap with the same of circumstances so ZOMG why did you contradict yourself?”

Then I shall admire and respect you for that valid (and possibly damning) observation! I’m diverging from the previous diagnosis because the Jeep 4.0’s piston-slapping tendencies are documented both via Chrysler technical service bulletin and in multiple cases mentioned on Jeep forums: I see no such evidence for any of the Chrysler LA engines.

That said, I wager this is a mild case of rod knock. While far from great news, a mild case of anything at 207,000 miles is a sign of a well-maintained motor. Perhaps it won’t be a serious concern for a long time, provided we do something about it.

As it warms, thinning oil compounds the problems of a worn engine with spinning parts that are out of spec, which could account for rod knock at idle when warm. If true, the solution is opposite of the aforementioned Jeep: run thicker viscosity oil (or add an additive like Lucas) to see if it silences the knock. I’m leaning toward going from 10W-30 to 10W-40 oil, especially since it doesn’t get very cold in Florida.

Modern engines are far less likely to tolerate a thicker oil, but it’s worth a shot here. But which viscosity oil? Will it actually solve the problem? There are many questions to ponder …

Tell us what you think, Hagerty Community!

Have a question you’d like answered on Piston Slap? Send your queries to pistonslap@hagerty.com, and give us as much detail as possible so we can help! If you need an expedited resolution, make a post on the Hagerty Community!

The post Piston Slap: If this van’s a-knockin’ … appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Gordon Murray’s new V-12 is said to use Formula 1 technology, but you could grab yourself a real piece of Grand Prix engineering with this 2004 Mercedes V-10 that’s up for auction by RM Sotheby’s. You’ll have to move F1-fast as the sale ends today.

The 3.0-liter engine was estimated to produce 900 hp at a screaming 18,300 rpm and is of the type fitted to the McLaren MP4-19, designed by Adrian Newey and raced by Kimi Räikönen and David Coulthard.

Offered without reserve the engine is predicted to fetch €40,000-€60,000 ($46,100-$69,200).

However, there are a couple of catches: first you’ll have to arrange collection from Germany, and second it is missing pistons and connecting rods. So rather than powering your next project, it may well just end up being a rather pricey coffee table base.

The post Last chance to nab a Mercedes F1 motor appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The title of “world’s quickest street car” has been passed around to a few notable names over the past decade or so. Andy Frost, Larry Larson, and Jeff Lutz have all piloted cars to ridiculous quarter-mile passes well in excess of 200 mph to claim the title. For now, Tom Bailey holds both the quickest and fastest pass in his street-driven 1969 Camaro.

Bailey ran a 5.99 at Drag Week 2019, making him the first ever to break into the 5-second range during the event. Earlier this year, Bailey clicked off a 5.881 elapsed time at the U.S. Street Nationals at Bradenton Motorsports Park. Then he followed it up with a 5.773 E.T. at 259.66 mph! Those passes were done on the same Drag Week engine, built using a Steve Morris SMX billet block, on a tune running 48 pounds of boost. After more than 1000 miles, Steve Morris has just opened up the engine to show everyone what it’s made of … literally.

Steve Morris is the man behind the twin-turbo big-block that powers Bailey’s car and is often Bailey’s copilot during Drag Week. At the heart of the engine is a proprietary billet aluminum block that Morris engineered. Unlike most billet blocks, this one has been machined with water jackets that allow it to survive street driving. On the strip, Bailey’s Camaro runs alcohol through three injectors per cylinder. Due to alcohol’s evaporative cooling properties, the engine doesn’t produce as much heat as a similar gasoline powerplant would, even though it is still capable of 4000 hp. A solid billet block, without any cooling passages, works just fine on the strip, but it wouldn’t last long at all on the highway.

On the street, Bailey’s engine uses a separate fuel system to provide a ready supply of gasoline to a single set of fuel injectors. When the engine isn’t making boost, it’s absolutely tame and perfectly happy cruising at highway speeds with its Rossler-built Turbo 400 transmission and Gear Verdors overdrive keeping engine speeds low.

Bailey’s “Camaro” is best described as a Pro Mod drag car that’s been built to survive the rigors of long-distance street driving. It’s participated in several of Hot Rod magazine’s Drag Week competitions, in which drivers race on the strip and then drive 200+ miles to the next venue and race again, five days in a row. If it sounds like it’s hard on cars, it is. The odyssey is even harder on drivers, who sometimes spend hours at the track prepping the cars to race and then tweaking them to survive the road.

The engineering behind Bailey’s car and this 4000-hp powerplant is nothing short of astounding and we’re still blown away that an engine this ferocious can survive on the street for so long and endure so many punishing passes. You can argue that Tom Bailey’s car isn’t really a ’69 Camaro, but you can’t argue that it’s not a real street car.

The post Watch Steve Morris tear down a 4000-hp big-block appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Maserati has confirmed the technical specifications of its in-house Nettuno engine. As we have previously reported, the 3.0-liter twin-turbo V-6 will power the mid-engined MC20 supercar from September 2020.

The Nettuno engine is a traditional 90-degree V with dry sump, and delivers 621 hp at 7500 rpm and 538 lb ft of torque from 3000 rpm. So how does it achieve its impressive specific output of over 200 hp per liter?

The answer lies in adapting Formula 1 technology, which Maserati has been working on since 2015. The engine’s fuel injection system is a combination of port and direct injection that can deliver fuel at 350 bar. This keeps the engine quiet at low rpm and has a big impact on fuel economy and emissions.

The real innovation comes with the unique pre-combustion chamber situated between the central spark plug and the main combustion chamber, and linked to the main chamber by a series of holes. Fuel ignited in this pre-chamber emerges into the main combustion chamber as a series of “fire crests.” The tips of these crests trigger multiple ignition points in the chamber for a faster and more uniform combustion. A side spark plug acts in a conventional fashion, ensuring smooth running when the pre-chamber isn’t deployed.

It’s ingenious stuff, and the engine will be built at Maserati’s Modena factory, so no more relying on Ferrari for engines.

For a full explanation of how the Nettuno engine works, watch suave Maserati Chief Engineer Matteo Valentini in the video below.

https://youtu.be/S66yDKRiXZc

The post F1 tech boosts Maserati’s new V-6 to 621 hp appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Nelson Racing Engines has recently unveiled a 1200-horsepower LS-based crate V-8 that should satisfy just about any gearhead’s horsepower needs, at least for a small-block.

Nelson‘s new 427 is built on a Dart LSX block that, like Chevy Performance’s own LSX block, adds eight extra head studs compared to the production LS design. NRE also ups the diameter of the studs from 3/8 to half-inch while the extra studs afforded by the LSX design, which are located at the 12-o-clock and six-o-clock position of every cylinder bore, are expanded to 3/8, up from a metric size. Tom Nelson told us that this change allows for those studs to be now torqued to 55 lb-ft. That extra clamping force helps keep the head gaskets in place even with high cylinder pressures.

Those head studs are holding down a set of Dart Pro 1 280 cylinder heads that take LS3-style heads to a new level. The 15-degree heads flow more air through a 1.6-inch exhaust valve than the best factory Gen 1 small-block could muster through its intake.

A 4.0-liter Whipple supercharger adds 17 pounds of boost to coax the engine to produce twice the power of NRE’s naturally aspirated 427. Lucky for us it’s not twice the cost: NRE’s asking price is $26,000, which may seem expensive until you compare it to Mopar’s 1000-horsepower Hellephant Hemi that has an MSRP of $30,000, if you can find one. This monster motor also comes ready-to-run, with all the necessary wiring and fuel injection ECU.

The big Whipple supercharger, perched atop a water-to-air charge cooler, makes for a tall engine that likely won’t fit under the hood of many cars. There are plenty of classic pickup trucks, however, that could make use of their deep engine bays to house this dynamo. You could also opt for a hood scoop if you want to drop one of these engines into anywhere else you’d normally fit a small-block. If you prefer to keep your low hood, there’s also a 1000-hp version with a smaller supercharger or a 454 LSX that uses twin turbos and race gas to produce 1650 hp. The choice is yours.

If an LS Chevy-small-block isn’t your thing, NRE also offers big-block Chevys, Gen 1 small-block Chevys, small-block Fords, as well RB Mopars in wedge and Hemi variants in all sorts of naturally aspirated or boosted flavors.

The post Nelson Racing Engines debuts 1200-hp LS crate small-block appeared first on Hagerty Media.

More than 50 years since the mill ceased production, Jaguar is remanufacturing the cast-iron block for its 3.8-liter XK6 engine.

The iconic straight-six lump is recast by Jaguar Land Rover’s Classic Works facility in Coventry to the exact original specification and, as a genuine OEM part, comes with a 12-month warranty.First introduced in the 1958 XK150, the 3.8 XK6’s iron block was mated to an aluminum cylinder head with dual overhead camshafts and twin SU carburetors. In standard form it produced 220 hp, but the straight port head and triple carbs on the XK150 would free up a further 45 hp. It’s in that guise that the 3.8 powered the Series 1 XKE E-Type.

Over the next decade the 3.8 would power another five Jaguar models, before being discontinued. It was a hugely characterful engine, but not without its flaws. Chief among them was the fact that the cylinder block was fitted with liners. Behind these liners were cooling grooves which tended to get blocked with rust over time. That often led to overheating, piston seizure and a cracked cylinder block. So you can see why Jaguar has pulled out the old blueprints and starting making them again.

The new block can be fitted to the Jaguar XK150, XK150s, Mark 2, E-Type, Mark 10, and S-Type and costs around $18,000 plus shipping.

The post Jaguar resurrects the 3.8-liter XK6 engine block appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Chevrolet Performance is offering up a new, more powerful version of its LS7 crate engine as it appears the original 505-horsepower version is being phased out. Even sweeter, it’s shaping up to be both less expensive and easier to install in your next project car.

The LS7 debuted in the 2006 Corvette Z06 and was last used in the 5^th-gen Camaro Z/28 for 2014 and 2015. In both applications, the big-cube small-block produced 505 horsepower and incorporated slick technology (literally) like a dry-sump oiling system. With a 4.125-inch bore and 4.0-inch stroke, it remains the largest displacement small-block Chevrolet has ever put in a production car.

Lauded at its introduction for its wonderful torque curve and raucous exhaust note, the LS7 was the most powerful V-8 ever offered in a Corvette at the time. It uses a forged steel crank and main bearing caps for bottom-end strength. The connecting rods and saucer-sized intake valves were made of titanium, which helped minimize weight, allowing the big engine rev to 7,000rpm.

The new LS427/570 takes the potent LS7 and adds an LS3 oil pump along with a 1998-2002 Camaro LS1 oil pan to make for a more affordable, simple oiling system. Camaro also donated other parts, like the Z/28’s tri-Y exhaust manifolds. Even more interesting is that the LS7’s hydraulic roller camshaft with its 211/230-degree split duration and .593/.588 inches of lift was replaced with a 227/242 duration cam with .591/.590 inches of lift. We can imagine that the resulting idle and full-throttle pulls will sound even better than what we’ve come to expect from the LS7, but more importantly, thanks to that camshaft its output has been boosted to 570 horsepower at 6,200rpm. Torque is also up significantly, with a peak of 540 ft-lbs coming at 4,800rpm, up from 470 ft-lbs.

Chevrolet Performance has offered a crate engine version of the LS7 for years, but it has been a bit overshadowed recently. The LS376/525 crate engine, essentially a 6.2-liter LS3 with a higher-performance cam, offered up 20 more horsepower than the LS7 with a lower price tag in part due to its simple wet-sump oiling system. By ditching the LS7’s dry-sump in favor of a traditional oil pan without any exterior lines or plumbing required, the LS427/570 should make engine installation that much easier.

The LS7 is currently priced at $14,837 according to Chevrolet Performance, whose website notes that there are limited quantities available. Chevrolet Performance doesn’t have pricing on the LS427/570 just yet, but a peek at Scoggin Dickey Parts Center, one of the country’s most popular crate engine dealers, shows it at just over $12,700. That actually puts it higher than SDPC’s discount price for the LS7 at $10,700. However, it’s a safe bet that it will be more affordable than an LS7 once the dry-sump and its necessary plumbing are accounted for.

While we may be a bit sad to see the LS7 crate engine go, the easily swappable, more powerful LS427/570 seems like a worthy replacement.

The post Chevrolet Performance is replacing the LS7 with a more powerful, less expensive 427 LS small-block appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The fit and finish of a car’s exterior often gets all the attention, and most gearheads will debate cleaning materials like polishes and paint protectants for hours on end. If you want to find who is really detail-oriented at a car show, don’t look at the hood—look under the hood. A spotless engine bay is tough to achieve and even harder to maintain. It’s worth it, though, because a clean engine compartment is not only attractive but also conducive to spotting any leaks or issues when they start, rather than leaving them to be camouflaged by grime.

If your engine is a dingy, oily mess and you want to bring it back to a respectable condition, here are a few tips.

Don’t: Be quick to take things apart

Do: Take a “before” picture

If the engine is running smoothly, I’m hesitant to take anything apart to clean it, and I’d recommend you think the same way. The old adage of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” has treated me well for many years. However, to get a deep clean you must dive deep. Before you start, grab your camera and snap a picture.

Even if you have a great memory and a wealth of reference materials, a photo can still prove invaluable. Sometimes, all it takes is a simple glance at a “before” picture to know where that hose with the weird bend was attached. It also serves as great evidence of the improvement you make.

Don’t: Go crazy with the “engine cleaner”

Do: Use chemicals appropriate for the job

It’s on a shelf at every auto parts store—you’ll be tempted to grab that aerosol can of foaming degreaser and pretend you are the greatest graffiti artist known to man as you fog the entire engine compartment. Don’t do it.

Aerosol engine cleaner works great for engines that are very heavily soiled, but most of the time that stuff is overkill. It’s also deceptively involved; if you don’t rinse off all the residue, it will cause corrosion. Instead, spend a little extra time by using a few clean rags, spraying your detailer of choice on the rag, and simply wiping away the dirt. I typically start with a quick detailer and, if the grime is stubborn, I progress to more aggressive chemicals like brake or carburetor cleaner.

This more time-consuming process has two benefits: It prevents chemicals from forcing their way into nooks and crannies they shouldn’t be in, and helps you become familiar with those same nooks and crannies. Seeing a lot of oily buildup in one spot? Investigate to see whether there’s a leak that needs to be cured.

Don’t: Grab the pressure washer

Do: Use the garden hose

If you need to wash off the grit and grime, resist the urge to reach for the pressure washer. Both a home pressure washer and the wand at a local DIY car wash will eject water at a dangerously high pressure and threaten just about any part of your engine compartment. The jet can easily push past gaskets, into electrical panels and connections, and also into grease fittings.

If you discover the engine compartment is so filthy that a rinse-down is needed, take the time to seal all electrical connections and crankcase openings (the oil fill, for example) before using a garden hose. If the garden hose doesn’t provide enough pressure, gently scrub with a soft bristle brush to break the gunk free.

What is your process for cleaning your engine compartment? Sound off in the Hagerty Community below.

The post 3 dos and don’ts for cleaning your engine compartment appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Mazda is rolling out updates for its 2021 lineup and bringing two additional engine choices to the table for its handsome Mazda 3 sedan and hatchback. While these engines may be new to the Mazda 3, we don’t expect either to be newcomers to Mazda’s larger lineup. For 2021, Mazda seems content with a bit of powertrain option shuffling; it’s stopped short of bundling its manual gearbox and most potent four-pot into an enthusiast-special Mazdaspeed variant. Here’s what you can expect from the 2021 Mazda 3 lineup.

According to a source that spoke with Hagerty, and as first reported by Jalopnik, the 2.5-liter turbocharged engine will join the naturally-aspirated 2.5-liter SkyActiv-G engine currently offered in the Mazda 3. Most likely, Mazda plucked the new engine option for the Mazda3 directly from the Mazda 6 and CX-9; our source states that it will offer 227 hp when fueled with 87 octane and 250 when fueled with 93 octane.

While most enthusiasts will be excited to see a turbocharged engine back in the Mazda 3, our source says there will not be a Mazdaspeed model for 2021. Instead, the turbocharged engine will appear in a Premium Plus trim paired exclusively with a six-speed automatic transmission. The Premium Plus will join the currently-available Select, Preferred, and Premium trims alongside a 100th Anniversary edition also due for 2021.

A 2.0-liter, naturally aspirated engine is also slated for the 2021 Mazda 3. Since our source says this four-cylinder is rated at 155 hp, we expect it to be a carryover of the SkyActiv-G unit Mazda’s used in the past. As before, you’ll be able to spec either front-wheel drive or all-wheel-drive, and the turbocharged 2.5-liter will likely be available with either configuration.

While we mourn the absence of a dedicated Mazdaspeed variant, Mazda’s smooth-shifting six-speed manual will mostly likely stick around—though restricted, as now, to the hatchback variant and paired with the 186-hp, naturally aspirated 2.5-liter. Could another turbocharged option be on the way to fulfill homologation requirements for Mazda’s TCR entry? Probably not. Though the Mazda 3 TCR will use a 2.0-liter turbocharged engine, it won’t be a Mazda-developed unit. Instead, the race car will use the EA888 engine sourced from Volkswagen.

We reached out to Mazda to confirm these findings but they only stated that they “have not announced any details for the 2021 Mazda3.”

The post 2021 Mazda 3 gets a 2.5-liter turbo but no Mazdaspeed variant appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Manufacturers are always chasing better efficiency goals. One of the more recent trends is to downsize engines and add turbocharging, as we see many six-cylinder engines being replaced by turbocharged four-cylinders in a variety of applications. The phenomenon has resulted in automakers’ mass adoption of supporting technologies, such as direct injection. Direct injection systems run under much higher pressures than traditional port injection systems, and turbocharging stresses the engine even further, so these engines have to be designed with safety in mind.

Even though modern engine computer programming mitigates the chance of overexerting the engine and causing damage, there are some unintended phenomena that can still pop up, albeit rarely. One is the irregular detonation effect, called low-speed pre-ignition (LSPI). LSPI can result in catastrophic engine damage under the right conditions. Conditions I witnessed first-hand when my brother’s Focus ST, which we had been doing some maintenance on, suddenly lost power and started burning oil.

We checked the car out and found that one of the cylinders had lost almost all compression. We decided to pull the engine and found that the ringland of one of the pistons had cracked, leading us to believe that there was some sort of knock in the engine that caused the failure. Explaining how that happened proved challenging, considering that the car was filled with 93-octane fuel (as Ford recommends) and previous ECU logs from showed no knock at all. After doing some digging, we came across the concept of LSPI, which seemed to account for our unfortunate situation. Not knowing much about LSPI, I decided reach out to an expert for more information on how my brother and I got so lucky.

LSPI and direct-injected, turbo engines

LSPI appears to be most common in small displacement turbocharged engines with direct-injection. The effect is classified as an abnormal combustion event and happens in a similar manner to traditional engine knock or detonation, in which a mixture is unintentionally ignited, and often not by a spark plug.

In a normal combustion scenario, fuel is sprayed into the cylinder and a spark plug is ignited to create the explosion that moves the piston and, in turn, moves the crankshaft. These operations are carefully timed in order to be synchronized and balanced. When an LSPI event occurs, however, this balance is interrupted and can result in catastrophic damage because of the random detonation.

We spoke to Michael Warholic, light duty lubricant Technology Manager at Valvoline, to find out more about the phenomenon and how worried vehicle owners should be. LSPI can be mitigated to some extent with the right engine oil formula. Warholic is a scientist who previously formulated such oils, and he has been involved with LSPI research and mitigation for almost a decade.

The issue of LSPI, Warholic notes, emerged as technologies like direct injection and turbocharging started to enter wide use in production vehicles. The industry responded in 2011, when manufacturers and suppliers came together to create a consortium to research the issue at Southwest Research Institute (SwRI) in Texas.

SwRI set up engines for monitoring and found that this type of knock is most prominent in situations with low speed and high load. The observation indicated high-pressure spikes and hot spots in the cylinders in such situations, and SwRI’s first hunch was that there were oil or fuel deposits on the cylinder walls that might be auto-igniting. After additional research, researchers found that there are spots in random areas of the cylinders that were getting hot enough to auto-ignite under the right combustion conditions, before the spark plug fired, causing this knock or detonation. Warholic described these spots of auto-ignition as “fireflies” because they would light up in the cylinder in various areas without a clear pattern.

Even though these events might be happening in an engine, Warholic says, they may not necessarily be catastrophic enough to cause engine damage—the catastrophic version of these events only happens under perfect conditions for LSPI. In that scenario, fuel or oil droplets are ignited, creating a high-pressure spike that can result in broken connecting rods, broken rings or ringlands, or even a cracked piston.

The secret is in the oil

Once researchers started digging into why these events were happening, they found that a detergent used commonly in engine oil, calcium sulfonate, was reactive to the conditions of LSPI. Testing reduced calcium sulfonate in engine, they noticed that LSPI events were significantly curbed. After these findings were verified, most oil companies and marketers decided to rebalance the detergents in their oils to reduce calcium sulfonate and replace it with magnesium sulfonate. This resulted in a new specification, called API SN Plus, that in 2018 required oil companies to reformulate their oils to be LSPI-friendly. The specification was based on a test created by Ford to measure LSPI events in EcoBoost engines.

There are other methods to reduce LSPI, such as increasing zinc or molybdenum content, but these are often found in racing oils. Street cars required measured usage of such ingredients, as zinc can poison catalytic converters and molybdenum can be corrosive. Manufacturers are testing various combinations of detergents and additives, but their conclusion has been that the oil chemistry can greatly impact LSPI events. All of the previous tests and research have been completed with fresh oil, and manufacturers are now developing tests to examine aged or used oil. Many believe that the effect can become worse as oil becomes older.

Traditional engine knock was pretty common in older engines, and it still happens in modern engines when combustion events happen early. The biggest difference with LSPI is the huge pressure spike. Direct-injection and turbocharging are the main culprits of increased pressure when LSPI-type knock happens. The engines used in testing and research have transducers mounted in the cylinders to monitor pressures, recording in-cylinder pressures that reach 1000 psi or more during LSPI events. Normal operation may show these pressures at half of that amount. Luckily, the events aren’t frequent, at least in testing as there may be 5 of these spikes over 100,000 engine cycles.

In addition to the changes in oil formulation, manufacturers can also make changes to their direct-injection systems to reduce chances of LSPI. Reducing pressures for direct-injection systems or richening up the fuel mixture is one approach, but OEMs try to avoid those changes given that doing so consume more fuel, thereby defeating the purpose of these systems in the first place.

Should you be worried about LSPI?

We asked Warholic if he would buy a small turbocharged and direct-injected engine, considering what he knows about the risks of LSPI. He said that he certainly would, but only while using the correct oil. (Fuel is not a risk factor for those in the United States, as fuel here is generally of high quality.) Warholic recommends a careful reading of the owner’s manual to find what API rating has been specified for the engine, and to make sure to only use that specification of oil to reduce the chances of LSPI damage. He believes that these new engines are incredibly efficient—he would not hesitate to buy one.

The specifications that owners of these engines might find in their manuals are SN Plus, SP, or GF6. SN Plus was the first interim solution to LSPI and an improvement over the SN standard. The detergents and additives in that specification are based on the earliest LSPI tests completed against a Ford EcoBoost engine. GF6, an improvement on SN Plus, is the latest and greatest specification from ILSAC when it comes to LSPI prevention. It includes all of the previous LSPI testing as well as a new chain wear test from Ford, better deposit requirements, and better fuel economy requirements. The GF6 specification was only released in the last month, so it may not be on the shelves yet, but Warholic expects that GF60-rated oils should be on the shelf sometime this summer. SP is the latest specification from API and mostly mirrors the GF6 specification.

Any of these three specifications should help to prevent LSPI, but SP and GF6 are the latest versions owners should look for when making a purchase to ensure that they are getting the best for their engine. According to Warholic, Valovline will spread the GF6 and SP specification to essentially its entire line. GF6 will be used for oils up to a 10W30 weight, as that is the maximum ILSAC grade, but API SP will be in use for their heavier oils. In short order, the rest of the industry is likely to follow the same path for oil formulation.

Small-displacement turbocharged engines are not going away, and direct-injection systems will likely become more advanced, so it’s important to prevent these issues before they, say, break your piston.

The post How low-speed pre-ignition can damage your direct-injection turbo engine appeared first on Hagerty Media.

After shoving around Bentley’s most lavish models for 61 years, the L-Series V-8 has reached the end of its venerable evolution. On June 1, 2020, the crew of seven dedicated engine builders finished the last iteration of the 6.75-liter mill, a 502-hp engine destined for the appropriately retrospective Mulsanne 6.75 Edition by Mulliner.

The L-Series V-8 debuted in the 1959 Bentley S2 as a replacement for the S1’s straight-six, and its eight-cylinder progeny have regularly appeared under the bonnets of Bentley’s top-of-the-line models. Though we’re most familiar with its 6.75-liter iterations, the L-Series V-8 began as a 5.2-liter prototype under the guidance of Rolls-Royce, who then owned Bentley, and only saw production seven years later as a dual-carb, 6.2-liter mill in the S2—plus Rolls-Royce’s Silver Cloud II and Phantom. Displacement didn’t reach 6.75 liters until 1965, thanks to an increase in stroke from 3.6 to 3.9 inches, and the torquey beast didn’t become exclusive to Bentley for another 33 years, when Rolls-Royce decided to start using BMW V-12s instead.

Though the L-Series’ lifespan fits the aesthetic of a stately luxury firm rooted in tradition, its tenure can also be explained more pragmatically. Despite appearances, Bentley has never had much cash to lavish upon R&D. The firm decided, time and time again, to tweak the current L-Series for higher output and emissions compliance and spend the majority of its reserves elsewhere. As you’d expect, engine tech has marched on quite aggressively in 61 years. To go from 180 hp in the 1959 S2 to 530 hp in the 2020 Mulsanne Speed, Bentley had to do much more than breathe on its V-8.

The eight-cylinder engines share an aluminum block construction and characteristic “wave” of low-end torque, but apart from that, Bentley changed just about everything it could. (To decrease emissions by a purported 99 percent, substantial changes were required.) A single-turbo set up—Bentley’s first application of forced-induction since Tim Birken’s Blower Bentleys—for 1982 eventually gave way to a twin-turbo, fuel-injected configuration in the 2000s. In 2010, the engine received a host of upgrades—a new crankshaft, pistons, connecting rods, and cylinder heads—granting variable valve timing and cylinder deactivation. The latest pushrod evolution, first introduced in 2015, sports port injection, twin turbos, and yet another redesigned cylinder head; in the Mulsanne Speed, it churns out a grand 530 hp and 811 lb-ft of torque. Needless to say, the hand-built nature of these various engines was also a constant.

After all that time, and after all those changes, Bentley’s Member of the Board for Manufacturing, Peter Bosch, says that the L-Series V-8 “has earned its retirement.”

Though Bosch points to Bentley’s hybrid V-6 as the start of the firm’s “journey to electrification,” the chaps at Crewe aren’t proceeding with undue haste. Bentley’s 6.0-liter W-12 is alive and roaring in its new Continental GT, and Bosch says both it and the 4.0-liter V-8 have a place in Bentley’s future.

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The Ford Flathead was a defining moment for Ford when it was released in 1932, utilizing the brand’s penchant for perfecting automotive technology for mass production. Just like with the Model-T, Ford wasn’t the first automaker to offer V-8s, but it had mastered the art of casting to allow for the engine block to be formed entirely out of one piece, something that few manufacturers were capable of producing at the time—much less one aimed at the average Joe and Jane American.

The road to production wasn’t easy, both due to the relatively cutting-edge design for the period and Henry Ford’s notoriously turbulent leadership style. When Ford Motor Company began looking at replacing its common inline four-cylinder engines at the time, Henry initially had engineers develop an air-cooled, eight-cylinder radial known as the X-8. It wasn’t far removed from an aircraft and suffered several cooling and oiling issues in automotive use, so he finally directed the development of a low-cost V-8 in 1928.

Four wildly different variations were created as Ford hacked out his final vision for the engine, even though his wishes were sometimes at the behest of the engineers. Several designs were scrapped when engine designers proposed features he opposed, such as the inclusion of water and oil pumps over more passive circulation systems—but ultimately, they were able to guide their ring leader to give his final seal of approval in 1931.

Featuring a 90-degree block, the new V-8 mill featured a valve-in-block flathead design with a single-piece block. It was this accomplishment that defined the Flatty, as many V-8s at the time were constructed more like a motorcycle engine with the cylinders and crankcase being separate parts. Ford had also sorted out a process for creating affordable cast-iron crankshafts that reduced the costs over conventional forged crankshafts. Sixteen valves were served by simple cast-iron intake and exhaust manifolds, and the compact design fit as well between the fenders of a new-for-’32 Model-B as Ford’s traditional four-bangers.

Providing V-8 performance and reliability to the masses altered the course of America’s automotive and cultural history. This combination was implicated in so many moonshine runs that we organized a professional motorsport from the pastime of evading arrest—and it would go on to become the defacto powerplant for cash-strapped hot rodders as they returned from WWII looking for mechanical canvases to build upon.

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During the early development days of the Ford “Boss” 6.2-liter V-8, Les Ryder, then Ford’s chief engine engineer, settled on an ambitious development goal (and a catchy phrase): 7000 rpm, 700 hp, and 7 liters. The Triple Seven, as it became known, is one of those what-ifs that could have changed the path of automotive history, especially as the late-model horsepower wars returned at the end of the 2010s. It never saw production—but in the hands of a secretive team, it did see an eight-second quarter-mile a few years ago.

Ford’s 6.2-liter V-8—internally dubbed “the Boss” after the innocence of its first name, Hurricane, was stolen by Hurricane Katrina—was the truck engine Blue Oval fans had demanded since the death of the 460-cubic-inch big-block. The Modular family of engines were serving their roles as durable and efficient powerplants in the Mustang, Crown Victoria, and F-series trucks, but even in tall-deck, 5.4-liter form, they lacked the displacement needed to match the low-end torque of big-cube V-8s from Chevy and Dodge. The biggest limitation for the Modular design, and even for its Coyote successor, was its relatively close bore centers, which dictate both an engine’s valve diameters and its maximum bore size. Knowing this, Ford began developing a new Boss in 2005, determined to build a larger-displacement engine with wider bore spacing to provide the necessary lung capacity. 

Ultimately, the Boss 6.2-liter was relegated to utilitarian use in Ford’s pickups (notably, the first-gen 2010–14 SVT Raptor). Imagine if Ford had stuck with the Triple Seven program, which not only beat its horsepower and rpm goals handily in the production-intent 16-valve configuration but also flirted with becoming a true giant-killer with four valves per cylinder. That’s the parallel universe in which the Triple Seven thrived at the hands of Don Bowles, Sr., Ford Racing, and Roush.

Factory speed

While we probably won’t see manufacturers pursue racing quite as fervently as they did in the ’60s, contemporary OEMs still work hand-in-hand with racers to root out the next hot tech and study how their hardware responds to the toughest conditions. If there’s a way to break a given component, racers will find it, and this phenomenon plays out across all niches of motorsport. Le Mans and other high-profile endurance races may enjoy the limelight of OEM involvement, but domestic brands remain closely tied to grassroots drag racing.

So when legendary drag racer Don Bowles, Sr. decided to come out of retirement and return to the strip, he leveraged Ford’s tight involvement with the straight-line scene. Bowles, Sr. was looking for a new engine program to replace the relatively small-displacement, Modular platform. Which, in turn, led him to Les Ryder. “They actually came on a fact-finding mission,” explained Ryder. “They’d heard we were doing a new, larger-displacement V-8 and they wanted to know what it was, and so we had a discussion.”

“The coolest thing was meeting in Les’ office,” Don Bowles, Jr. remembers. Ryder worked inside the hallowed halls of Ford’s Engineering Labs, a few doors away from Henry Ford’s original office. The Blue Oval spared no expense when constructing these offices in 1924. The exterior walls were built from Indiana limestone, and the executive halls were lined with marble and framed by mahogany walls soaring into a white ceiling. Everything was designed to be fit for automotive royalty, down to ornate light fixtures rained a soft, warm glow onto the hardwood. Mahogany Row, as it was nicknamed, housed Ford’s braintrust of engineering departments.

“It was old-school—you walk in this place and you can smell history … you can just smell it,” says Don, Jr., reliving that first meeting, back in 2005. Ryder and Don, Sr. decided that Ryder would provide prototype parts in exchange for extensive data and feedback and began discussing the Triple Seven’s defining goals: 7000 rpm, 700 hp, and 7 liters. Ryder was interested in pushing the new, big-displacement architecture of the Boss. Its 115-mm (4.52-inch) bore spacing was the Boss’s biggest advantage over the aging Modular V-8s, which measured just 100-mm (3.93-inch). This allowed the Boss to use larger pistons and valves. 

Leveraging Ryders’ prototyping resources at the Ford Engineering Labs, a custom block was poured with modified cooling jackets to allow engineers to safely bore out the cylinders for 4.125-inch slugs. A custom forged crankshaft increased stroke to 4 inches, about a quarter-inch more than the production-spec crank. This would give the team the magical 427 cu-in (7-liter) figure, and when combined with the overhead-cam valvetrain, would hopefully give the Triple Seven enough airflow to meet Ford’s rpm and horsepower goals.

This is when Jack Roush’s team stepped onto the scene. Roush Performance facilitated both R&D and final assembly as it sorted out the combo together with Ford. The elder Bowles and Jack Roush proved fast friends—the kind that swapped camshafts instead of gifts at Christmas.

“Jack would fly down and the family had come down and spend time with us, Jack’s wife and mom, and then us kids would spend time together, and then Jack and Dad would be down there on the dyno over New Years’, or Easter, whenever!” Don Jr. says. “It was just crazy. I’ve seen Jack bringing an armful of camshafts while Dad would have five carburetors in there, and they would just beat that Super Stock combo just to death on the dyno. They might find 20 horsepower off the dyno, take it to the race track, and it was a tenth-and-a-half slower!”

Mahogany Row’s secret

Before the Triple Seven ever roared in anger down the strip, it was wrung out on a Spintron machine by father-son team Bob and Dennis Corn at Roush to sort out any weaknesses with the increased rpm. The stroker rotating assembly held up well, but Roush’s team needed to fine-tune the valvetrain and camshaft combination to handle the stress. Custom camshafts were made and the valvetrain was modified for mechanical lash adjustment between the rocker arm and valve. However, Roush discovered that either the heads of the valves would mushroom and cause clearance issues or the valves themselves would overheat—to the point of discoloration. Don, Sr. describes it like this: “It was amazing how hot those valves and valve springs would get when you take it [to] another 400 rpm, or add a little more lift—just trying to get the ultimate camshaft and valvetrain. And we even had oilers spraying all of the springs, just like the NASCAR motors.”

Roush added bronze valve guides and, which helped absorb heat out of the valve stem to protect it from overheating. Other than the one-off water jackets to accommodate larger ports, the Triple Seven’s cylinder heads retained the Boss production geometry for everything else in the valvetrain, accommodating the modified camshaft, aftermarket valves, and mechanical adjustment. The biggest departure from the production engines came in the induction system, which housed a Kinsler individual throttle-body setup in a massive plenum box. Lastly, the Triple Seven’s compression ratio was bumped to 12.5:1 in order to take advantage of the high-octane rating of E85, a considerable increase over the street-going version’s 9.8:1.

With each improvement, Roush’s team and Don, Sr. discovered more and more of the Triple Seven‘s potential. The modified truck engine was now singing at 9000 rpm like a NASCAR Cup motor, and as the dyno sheets kept coming back, it became increasingly clear that Ford, Roush, and Bowles, Sr. had all underestimated the Boss platform’s potential. With the valvetrain under control, the Boss surpassed the 700-hp benchmark at a measly 7000 rpm, and output cleared 800 hp as revs rose beyond 8000 rpm. By the spring of 2006, Ford, Roush, and Don knew they had an 850-hp firecracker in their hands and began preparing a new chassis for NMRA Open Comp.

“Coal Digger VI” started life as a 2005 Ford Mustang, built out with a Roush Stage 3 aero kit and carbon-fiber fenders. In name and livery, the Mustang carried on the proud lineage of yellow-clad race cars from Don Bowles, Sr., who oversaw coal mines when he wasn’t moonlighting as a mad scientist. Bowles, Sr.’s team tossed out the back half of the S197 chassis in favor of a stout four-link suspension and replaced the Mustang’s original five-speed Tremec TR-3650 with a sequentially-shifted G-Force GF-5R gearbox. With the new chassis tubing, including the roll cage, Coal Digger VI tipped the scales around 3500 pounds in Open Comp trim.

Because the engine wasn’t approved for production use and the team kept the exact details of Triple Seven under a need-to-know policy, Don Sr.’s team preferred Open Comp’s more flexible rulebook and “run what you brung” approach. Open Comp allowed the team to gather the track-side data it needed in the demanding context of bracket racing, in which drivers “dial in” the elapsed time (ET) they expect to hit. A driver’s goal is to get as close as possible to the dial-in ET while not “breaking out” and beating the dial-in time. The setup rewards the most consistent performer, rather than leaving the results up to an outright assault on the finish line. Bracket racing was an excellent way to test the Triple Seven’s durability and consistency, and so the team began testing at Michigan’s Milan Dragway before entering NMRA Open Comp in 2006.

Much to the satisfaction of the Blue Oval contingency, the Triple Seven proved it was no mere dyno queen. It knocked down the 9-second ladder, eventually running consistently in the 9.0-second range. Better yet, it would break the 8-second barrier months later at New Jersey’s Atco Dragway. “We run low 9s—of course, if you went quicker than a 9.0 you broke out of the class,” Don, Sr. recalls. “But the other guy red-lit on the first round and I stayed on it to get that 8-second run!” He credits the better air density at Atco’s lower elevation. In any case, the 8.993-second pass demonstrated that the Triple Seven was a serious contender as a performance car engine—a status made even stronger by its 152-mph trap speed recorded that same day. “Wasn’t too bad of speed either, for that heavy of a car,” Don, Sr. modestly exclaims. The dead-nuts reliable Triple Seven was able to finish the 2007 NMRA season second in points with three event wins at the hands of Don, Sr.

The great what-if

Sadly, at the end of the season, the Triple Seven was pulled and replaced by an ex-NASCAR Ford D3 mill, which produced nearly the same horsepower and rpm but was available in surplus while the Cup Car engines changed generations. It was a sensible move on the part of Don Bowles Racing as the Triple Seven’s development wound down; the prototype engine was the only one in existence. (The production, 6.2-liter variant found in the Raptor would not debut for several more years.) Les Ryder had since retired from Ford, though he rejoined the Triple Seven project during a short development stint at Roush. Ultimately, and for its own reasons, Ford decided not to evolve the Boss 6.2-liter platform for the road-going Mustang. The Coyote was in development by then, and the Coyote’s potential for better fuel economy likely solidified its business case following the 2008 economic collapse.

The Mustang wasn’t the only model that stood to benefit from the 6.2-liter mill. Ford had intentions to produce several variations of the Boss architecture; the overhead-cam configuration of the Boss allowed for cost-effective iterations with three- or four-valve configurations, just like the smaller Modular V-8s. “We originally started with an aluminum-block alternative for lighter-weight, passenger-car applications that got dropped along the way,” Ryder mentions. Ford had even considered a diesel surrogate of sorts—a specialized four-valve variant that could match the Powerstroke’s torque figures without falling under the incredibly stringent diesel emission regulations proposed at the time.

The Coyote was a much-needed injection of horsepower into the Mustang, a game that it had been losing to General Motors for decades. Despite its Narcan-like effect on the Mustang, however, the Coyote’s 100-mm bore spacing subjects it to similar displacement limitations as the retired Modular motors. What if the Mustang had packed a milder version of Triple Seven, even at the Raptor’s 6.2-liter displacement? True, the original 6.2-liter mill was heavily focused on low-end torque, but with a few minor changes—like an intake and a set of camshafts—the Boss’s performance potential was clearly there. Today’s high-horsepower pony cars may compensate for displacement with boost, but there will never be anything quite like the brute-force response of a big-inch, naturally-aspirated engine—especially for power-hungry drag racers. Could the Triple-Seven ever return for production? Almost certainly not. Do we wish it could? You know the answer to that question …

The post How a secret 21st-century 7.0-liter Ford V-8 reached 9000 rpm appeared first on Hagerty Media.

It’s nothing new to see modern engines that are packing more and more technology in smaller and smaller packages. While that typically means smaller displacements, the new GM 2.7-liter inline-4 proves that is not always the case. The go-to four-cylinder engine for many OEMs is a two-liter turbocharged mill, but Cadillac and Chevrolet are now building an engine with almost 150% the capacity along with a unique turbocharger. Here’s why.

The old saying is “there’s no replacement for displacement,” and there is a reason it is an old saying, not a new one. Modern engine tuning and technology have allowed boosted engines to size-down displacement with little compromise. One engine utilizing tech like that is found under the hood of the Chevrolet Silverado and the Cadillac CT4-V and bucks the trend by packing an extra .7-liter of displacement along with two other key features which Engineering Explained dove into in it’s latest YouTube video.

The first is variable valve timing. True, this is and of itself is not groundbreaking tech, but GM utilizes it a bit differently than most. Traditionally, variable valve timing is used to create two camshaft profiles that the engine can automatically switch between–one profile with valve lift and duration (how long the valve is open) for low rpm, and another that is optimized for higher-rpm. This new engine sports three lobes for each valve. The first two are the traditional pair, while the third for the center two cylinders have zero valve lift for both the intake and exhaust valves, which combines with shutting off the fuel to those cylinders to essentially turn this four-cylinder to a two-cylinder in low-load scenarios.

The second trick is the dual volute turbocharger. This is not to be confused with a twin-scroll turbo. The core concept of the dual volute turbocharger is to separate the exhaust pulses as they exit the cylinders. The twin-scroll design has the same goal, but the dual-volute concept takes it to the next level in terms of turbocharger efficiency. The cylinders are paired, with each pair’s exhaust gases traveling in individual volutes (think an intake runner but for exhaust) that act on the turbocharger’s impeller on opposite sides.

This splitting of the exhaust pulses allows the turbo to spool even quicker and at lower rpm. With a turbo producing maximum boost at lower rpm, the engine can make more power at lower rpm. Typically that low grunt was reserved for big displacement engines that could intake larger amounts of air and fuel naturally at low speed. Now that turbo tech allows the cylinder to be efficiently pressure fed at those lower speeds, we might see these smaller displacement engines catch up to their big-bore counterparts.

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With its twin intercooler scoops perked up like a wildcat’s ears, this Buick V-6 looks poised to produce some serious horsepower—and thanks to the madman known as Kenny Duttweiler, it lives up to that first impression. Local Craigslist trawling dredged up this nugget, an all-aluminum Buick 3.8-liter V-6 that pumps out nearly 800 hp at full tilt.

Who gets credit for this wild creation? Duttweiler Performance and TA Performance, each legends in their respective fields for building some of the most wicked powerplants on earth. While Duttweiler tunes engines and designs and builds motors, TA Performance has focused on Buick performance and originally commissioned these engine’s aluminum block and heads. The two worked together to build these units to serve sand buggies, due to the engines’ relatively light weight.

TA Performance brought its custom aluminum engine blocks and cylinder heads based on the infamous Grand National/T-Type unit, with several refinements to the oiling system and casting structure to improve the block’s power-handling capability. These were never found in production, but are instead poured out of a foundry in California not too far from Duttweiler’s own shop.

With a bore and stroke of 3.940 x 3.625 inches, these units displace 4.3 liters thanks to the Crower billet crank and CP pistons. The valvetrain starts off with a unique camshaft profile that combines the roller-lifter lobe profile of the later-model Buick 3.8 with the odd-fire ignition order in order to eliminate the weaker split-pin crank that was used in later Buick 3.8 mills.

This foundation worked around the factory limitations of the original iron block and provided a massive weight advantage over the common V-8s of the era, too, with Hot Rod citing that the package weighed under 300 pounds—nearly half of what a standard small-block Chevy weighs.

The seller states that this twin-turbo wonder is currently without a home because he wants to swap a naturally aspirated, stroked LS2 combo into his dune buggy—a choice that’s hard to argue. The LS is cheap and easy to work with, especially when most the most common repair components are sitting on the shelf of any parts house.

This unique slice of Buick hot rodding, however, looks ready to eat puppies and spit fire. (It probably already has, on more than one occasion.) Having sat in the tail of a Funco dune buggy for most of its life, the engine comes ready with an adapter for a rear-engine Albins five-speed transaxle. Even if you dumped your Baja 1000 ambitions and threw this back into a Buick, who could complain about an 800 hp V-6 under the hood of their blacked-out GN? Hell, it’s already packaged for a rear-engine setup—why not a 911 or air-cooled VW?

The seller is asking $18,000 and the listing can be found here.

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An engine puts the auto in automobile; without one, you merely have a carriage and have successfully shifted yourself backwards by 120 years. A century-plus of engine development has brought forth a vast array of solutions to the internal combustion problem. Virtually every person who has set their mind to building a car has experimented with the number, orientation, and even shape of the cylinders.

The best designs rose to the top of the heap, but that heap is hardly small. We thought it might be fun to shine a light (not the check engine light … ) on a few of the oddball designs that manufacturers sent out into the wild under the hoods of production cars.

Tatra air-cooled V-8

In the record books of doing something before it was cool, Tatra has a place among the greats. It was only 1937 when it built a streamlined, rear-engine, V-8-powered car that competed in endurance racing. While that’s quite the list of descriptors, our focus here is the three-liter V-8 mounted under the sloping rear sheetmetal.

That engine was air-cooled and also featured hemispherical combustion chambers. Power output was 75 hp, which rivaled the contemporary Ford Flathead V-8. The Czechoslovakian automaker thought it had a winning formula with the design and continued producing a version of this V-8 through 1975. The final iteration produced 166 hp—more than the L48-equipped Corvette of the same year.

Bugatti W-16

In a world flush with what I like to call “numbers cars”—automobiles that seemed to exist solely as barroom one-uppers—the Bugatti Veyron took things to the extreme. It took just about every number associated with a performance engine and doubled it, or 16x it, if you want to talk about heat exchangers.

If eight cylinders in a V is good, why not make it 16 cylinders and a W? Seeing the bare block of the W-16 engine is a confusing moment if you aren’t familiar with how the packaging works. The goal is to fit the 16 bores into the most compact package possible, which means staggering them so that all sixteen don’t sit on the same centerline. Interestingly, multiple Volkswagen models received narrow-angle V-6 and V-5 engines, which are essentially one bank of this W engine with two and three fewer cylinders, respectively.

Wankel rotary

The concept of an internal combustion engine requires compression, and the easiest means of achieving that was a reciprocating piston. German engineer Felix Wankel penned a compact design that could fit the four phases of the Otto cycle (intake, compression, combustion, exhaust) into one revolution of the rotor. In fact, there are three combustion events for each rotation of the rotor, but the geared output shaft spins at three times the rotor speed. This gives you one combustion cycle per rotor per revolution of the output shaft. Mazda is the manufacturer most closely tied to the rotary design, having installed it in a number of capable sports cars after it acquired the tech in 1961.

There are drawbacks, though. The apex seals at the tip of the Reuleaux triangle rotor have a shorter life expectancy than their piston-ring brethren, and oil consumption is significantly higher than in a reciprocating engine. There are fewer parts to fail—which, on the surface, makes it attractive in an era of long warranties—but the rotary’s thirst for fuel and relatively high emissions makes it a tough sell in the modern market.

Chrysler turbine

Yeah, I’m stretching a bit here calling this a production car, so save your comment. The fact that Chrysler even considered a turbine power plant for a street car is so absurd it has to be discussed. The plan was simple: Shove Chrysler’s fourth-generation gas turbine into a midsize, two-door chassis. It was 1963, and there was really nothing to lose.

The Chrysler turbine team had a lengthy list of upsides to the alternate engine: “Reduced maintenance, longer engine-life expectancy, development potential, 80-percent parts reduction, virtual elimination of tune-ups, no low-temperature starting problems, no warmup period, no antifreeze, instant interior heat in the winter, no stalling because of sudden overloading, negligible oil consumption, low engine weight, no engine vibration, and “cool and clean” exhaust gases” were all cited in period literature.

The reality was that 130 hp and 465 lb-ft put through a three-speed Torqueflite automatic (sans torque converter, because it was not needed) were simply underwhelming and, paired with the cost of production, just didn’t add up to a winner. Chrysler shelved the idea and crushed 46 of the 55 cars produced. Most of the nine survivors are in the custody of museums.

Honda NR750

Need a reminder that racers in modern times are racing the rulebook, not each other? I give you the Honda NR750. In the early 1990s, Grand Prix racing was dominated by two-stroke engines, but Honda wanted to put a four-stroke on the grid. Specifically, a four-stroke V-8 packed into a motorcycle frame. The catch? The rulebook stipulated just four combustion chambers.

So Honda went the unconventional route and blended the eight cylinders together to create four oval cylinders. That makes an engine with a bore x stroke measurement that requires three numbers. The 101.2-mm x 50.6-mm x 42-mm bore and stroke made for a final displacement of 748 cc. Each of the oval pistons is supported by two connecting rods.

Since we stretched our definition of “production” engines, we’ll open up the comments to explore other low-volume engines as well. Do you have a favorite?

The post 5 of the strangest engines that made it to production appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Sixty years ago, General Motors was nothing like the company you know and (maybe) love today. In the 1960s, the firm was well-stocked with the industry’s smartest designers, engineers, sales experts, and division managers. No technical hurdle was too high, no engineering feat too far-fetched, for the colossus that bestrode more than 50 percent of the market and had no Asian competitors to fear. So when someone raised a hand and suggested that a nice, fresh V-12 engine would add luster to Cadillac’s prestige, there was broad consensus and no fiscal concern.

Indeed, there was plenty of precedent for the idea, both historic and recent. From 1931 to 1937, Cadillac built and sold just over 10,000 Series 370 and Series 80/85 models powered by V-12s serving as the base engine. (The upgrade was a V-16 offered from 1930–40.) In 1960, GMC introduced a 702-cubic-inch “twin-six” truck engine consisting of a 60-degree V-12 block topped by four V-6 cylinder heads. (See what we mean by “no fear”?) Around that time, engineer Paul Keydel was assigned the task of designing GM’s ambitiously-named “V Future” program—a fresh V-12 for Cadillac’s exclusive use. He picked a 60-degree layout with a single chain-driven, overhead camshaft per bank. A horizontal distributor poking out of each cam carrier fired six spark plugs. The block and heads were both aluminum castings. To make the blocks, GM invented a technique called Acurad, which injected high-silicon aluminum into steel dies at high pressure. The beauty of this arrangement was that it yielded bore surfaces tough enough to resist piston wear and abrasion without ferrous-metal (iron or steel) cylinder liners.

Finger followers with hydraulic lash adjusters were fitted to the heads. Cadillac built six V-12 prototypes for testing and development, with displacements ranging from 7.4 to 8.2 liters. However, when the first engine fired on a test stand in 1963, results were deeply disappointing. Power and low-speed torque barely topped Cadillac’s existing 7.0-liter V-8. Switching to individual intake and exhaust pipes and adding fuel injection to optimize fuel-air distribution eventually raised output to 394 hp and 506 lb-ft of torque, beating the V-8 by roughly 100 hp. Unfortunately, engineers then sacrificed half the V-12’s advantage over the V-8 by adding Cadillac-quiet mufflers, though they continued experimenting with various cam profiles and single 4-barrel, 2×2-barrel, 3×2-barrel, and 2×4-barrel carburetor setups.

At the same time, GM product planners expected the V Future engine to power the new Cadillac Eldorado coupe planned for the 1967 model year, which would arrive one year after the launch of the all-new Oldsmobile Toronado. Both were radical (for the era) front-wheel-drive cars, and the folks designing their automatic transaxles assumed the engines in each would be transversely mounted. Cadillac quickly raised both hands in protest, stating that there was no way its new V-12 would fit sideways.

This forced the engineers to create a new, three-speed Turbo-Hydramatic 425 design that shared parts with the existing Turbo-Hydramatic 400. Here, the torque converter bolted to the engine’s crankshaft as usual. Next came a multi-link Morse chain that dispatched torque to the left (in plan view) to drive the remaining transmission and differential components snuggled against the engine with a “backwards” north-south orientation. Torque to the left wheel departed the left side of the differential. Torque to the other side was via a driveshaft which went through the oil pan and under the crankshaft before reaching the right-front wheel. This design became known as the Unified Powerplant Package.

While the UPP design sounds like it was heavily influenced by Rube Goldberg, it worked reliably as intended. There was zero detectable torque steer; the only real drawback was that any engine mated to the 425 transaxle had to be mounted a bit higher in the chassis to provide driveshaft clearance beneath the crankshaft. Using the 455-cu-in Oldsmobile V-8, the UPP would go on to power that brand’s stylish new Toronado—and, when mounted under a pair of space-age seats, would also motivate the radical front-wheel-drive GMC Motorhome. (Later variants of the UPP would have a 403-cu-in V-8 in place of the 455.)

When the UPP appeared in the Eldorado, however, it was mated to an 8.2-liter V-8, not a V-12. What happened? Contemporary sources believe that GM was worried about releasing an engine which exceeded the V-8’s thirst by a considerable amount without having a similar power advantage. Expanding the Cadillac V-8 to 501 cubic inches closed the gap to the V-12 with significantly less investment. Given the GM design staff’s unshakable preference for long-hood, short-deck proportions, they weren’t about to protest an engine compartment that was only 2/3rds full. Ultimately, all that really mattered was sales volume. Even though it had no V-12 about which to crow, Cadillac easily doubled the sales of its arch rival Lincoln Continental 2-door hardtop coupe with its stunning new Eldorado during 1967 and ’68 model years. Shortly thereafter, federal emissions and mileage requirements gave the engine design department much more to worry about than cramming extra cylinders under Cadillac hoods.

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Fuel, air, compression, and spark. Those are the four things a gasoline-fuel engine needs to run properly. While it sounds pretty simple, the reality is that even vintage engines are quite picky about how each of these four items is attained. Today, let’s dive into spark plug wires and the developments in technology that these simple conductors have experienced over the years.

That’s what a spark plug wire is—a conductor. At its basic level, the spark plug wire exists solely to transmit electricity from the coil or distributor to the spark plug. Over the years the demands on these humble wires have increased, and thus the technology wrapped into them has also advanced. Now the market is flooded with options when it comes to plug wires. We’re here to help you make sense of the features and technology out there.

Size matters—but not in the way you think

The spark needs of a stock 216-cubic-inch inline-six Chevrolet are drastically different than those of a supercharged big-block Ford. Plug wires are often advertised by the diameter of the wire, making it easy to look at the options for plug wires and immediately think if 7mm is good, 8.8mm must be great. There is more to consider though.

Those larger wires typically have a lower resistance per foot—and this, not size, is the key thing to pay attention to. Plug wires of larger diameter could simply have larger conductors inside the wires, but their size could also be due to other features. Early spark plug wires were very simple—just metal that conducted. There wasn’t even insulation. The automobile had been around for at least 50 years when my 1930 Ford Model A was built, and guess what, it’s plug wires are just straps of metal from the distributor to the plugs.

Those simple conductors evolved to require insulation to shield the ever-increasing voltage from jumping to an unintended ground rather than through the spark plug. Not only did insulation join the features list for plug wires, increasing use of electronics as the decades wore on required the development of EMI and RFI suppression. Electromagnetic and radio-frequency interference can be a real pain in the butt. The most common instance of radio frequency is the phenomenon that occurs when a home mechanic replaces the plug wires on a vintage car and afterwards the radio has a pinging noise whenever the driver turns on sweet tunes while the engine is running. That pinging noise is the radio-frequency interference from an uninsulated plug wire.

The EMI and RFI suppression keeps the electrical noise of the ignition charge moving within the wire to a minimum. That electrical noise can wreak havoc on everything from AM radios to engine and transmission control computers. So if a little insulation is great, more must be better, right?

Resist the temptation

Yet again, not quite. Like everything in life that is good, that insulation has side effects. The side effects are resistance and cost. The resistance of many wires is measured in ohms per foot. A wire with high resistance can be in the 5000 ohms per foot range for especially high-output ignition systems, whereas a low resistance performance wire could easily get double digit ohms per foot. Lower resistance means more of the ignition coils energy is going towards bridging the gap or the spark plug. That hotter spark can create a more even burn of the fuel/air mixture in the cylinder, and thus, more power output from the engine.

Also, all the shielding inside a wire is not free. The best spend of your money is to buy a wire that protects against just enough interference to keep the rest of your car functioning properly—but no more. That is a tough balance to strike on modern computer-heavy cars, or even racers with sensitive data logging equipment. For stock applications, an OEM-spec wire might be best despite it having greater resistance than an aftermarket wire.

Ignition systems which use a magneto are often best served by the lowest resistance wire possible. The higher voltage of a coil on plug or distributor system can create enough voltage that a slightly higher resistance wire will not greatly affect spark strength, but the relatively lower output of a magneto means using a lower resistance wire is more important to ensure a hot spark from the spark plug.

Get the connection right

Once you have your wire chosen, you’ll need to connection the distributor cap (or coil, for coil on plug applications) and the spark plugs. There is often the option to purchase pre-terminated wires, where the wires have been cut to the proper length for your application, but if you have something custom or want a cleaner appearance than factory, building your own spark plug wires might be the way to go. High-temperature-rated boots might be required if you have headers or other routing that puts the sensitive wires near a strong heat source—mainly the exhaust. Headers are notorious for causing problems, so invest in some extra insulation to prevent your new wires from literally melting down.

It’s not a difficult process; it just takes a bit of patience and attention to detail—like any other automotive project. Installing new plug wires is a part of most basic tune-up to-do lists, and if your favorite cars wires haven’t been changed in a decade or so it might be time for you to start shopping. If you have any additional tips, be sure to leave them in the comments below.

The post Ohm me, ohm my: Spark plug wires demystified appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Chevrolet’s LT1 V-8 was a major step forward for General Motors. From 1992 to 1997, the LT1 helped pull GM out of the Malaise Era, updating the nearly half-century-old small-block engine for modern use. The General dubbed this V-8 the second-generation small-block, but in reality, the engine shared a great deal with the original Chevrolet “mouse motor” introduced in 1955. The $100-million revamp was the pinnacle of old-school Chevy engineering, a host of simple solutions and tiny improvements executed in pursuit of power and efficiency.

One of those developments was reverse-flow cooling—the practice of circulating coolant from an engine’s cylinder heads into its block, rather than the other way around, to reduce the risk of detonation. This feature became the central focus of a decade-long legal battle between GM and one of the firm’s subcontractors. The impact of this engineering feat is evident in the small-block engines currently used in everything from full-size trucks to the C8 Corvette, yet few know that the technology embroiled GM in a corporate-espionage scandal.

The Malaise Era presented a particular set of challenges for America’s muscle cars and high-output V-8s. Automakers were hit by a series of new limitations, including tighter emissions regulations and the challenge of unleaded fuel. Detonation—preignition due to a variety of undesirable factors—was common with these engines. Aluminum cylinder heads alleviated things by more quickly transferring heat into coolant, but there were other problems. The issue came to a head in the late 1980s, during development of the LT1 engine used in the C4 Corvette. In particular, coolant tended to boil around the combustion chambers, reducing the V-8’s ability to extract heat from its heads. These steam pockets were problematic enough that GM’s engineers sought expertise from one John Evans, founder of Evans Waterless Coolant.

The bionic block

While much of the LT1’s internal hardware is shared with the original small-block, the new engine featured revised cooling jackets and a front-mounted Optispark ignition system. The latter was driven off a small PTO drive at the front of the camshaft. The intake manifold was now a short-runner design, sitting on raised intake ports for improved high-rpm breathing.

The LT1’s reverse-flow cooling feature was another big development, intended to reduce combustion-chamber temperatures and mitigate detonation in this high-compression engine. The stubborn steam-pocket issue, however, remained throughout development. Ultimately, small-diameter “steam vents” were added at the back of the cylinder heads to allow trapped air to escape. Evans was the brain behind this solution.

Black boxes

John Evans ran a shop in Sharon, Connecticut, near Lime Rock Park. He served as a regular consultant for GM engineers who visited the track to see how racers were using their creations. Like many such relationships in the industry, this one was often mutually beneficial, with engineers handing down parts and resources in exchange for data and development. Evans had worked on cooling solutions for General Motors since 1979. With the C4, he was tasked with sorting a solution for the overheating troubles in March of 1989, during LT1 final testing.

At the time, GM was evaluating Evans’ “non-aqueous” coolant as a remedy for the LT1’s steam-pocket problem. According to Evans, the engineers were having significant problems keeping the high-output LT1 cool underneath the Corvette’s low-slung hood, and early testing of the upcoming Camaro and Firebird had shown similar problems.

Just ahead of a scheduled hot-tunnel test, where a Corvette would be placed into a climate-controlled chamber and subject to worst-case conditions, General Motors asked Evans to demonstrate another of his solutions: reverse-flow cooling. The practice had been a holy-grail technology for OEMs, but it had yet to meet production use, as vapor lock presented a major challenge. Evans had figured out that the solution involved placing a small-diameter venting hole in the cylinder head, instead of the thumb-sized vents suggested by conventional wisdom. “It was counterintuitive,” he told Fortune. “Everyone else was using a big hole, figuring it would allow more vapor to escape faster. I made it smaller, and it worked.”

This was Evans’ trade secret, but he had yet to patent it. As a result, he mandated that GM’s test be done under “black-box” conditions, a situation wherein GM could see his design’s test results but not the mechanism itself. The two parties came to an agreement on two tests: one would judge the performance of his waterless coolant, and the second would evaluate his steam-vent design paired with reverse-flow cooling.

The first hot-tunnel test went off without a problem in March of 1989. On the second test, curiously, a General Motors engineer told Evans that the hot tunnel was malfunctioning, and that the test would resume the next morning. Evans was understandably worried about the trade secrets he was being told to leave behind, but an engineer assured him that both facility and car would be locked up.

The next morning, they returned to the testing cell and wrapped up the black-box results. Evans noticed something was amiss, and commented to GM engineers that a panel underneath the car, in the tunnel, had been left ajar. He was assured that there was nothing to worry about, that the panel had been removed for service. The tests concluded on March 17.

The issue with handshake agreements is that when things go awry, there’s no paper trail to back your claims. At the time, GM corporate had begun auditing relationships of this nature, leaving Evans’ company in the lurch as unpaid bills were put on hold. According to Evans, he had only undertaken the black-box testing under the pretense that doing so would grease the wheels of payment for $804,000 he was owed in consulting fees. According to Fortune, GM’s internal auditors later attempted to strike a deal: The company offered to settle Evans’ unpaid invoices in exchange for the rights to his cooling innovations, including his reverse-flow design. Evans scoffed at the offer, and GM returned months later with a counter: $150,000, but no rights to his designs. With bill collectors knocking as he leveraged the kitchen sink, the paycheck looked like a lifeline, and Evans took the offer in 1991.

The catch

This is where things went off the rails. Evans thought the situation was over. He presumed that the payoff covered only the work that he had done for GM, not the rights to his ideas. But in the fall of 1991, a story in a trade magazine extolled the virtues of an industry-first reverse-flow cooling system—one used by General Motors, in the new-for-1992 LT1 small-block.

Evans applied for a patent in July of 1992, citing foundational innovations he had patented in 1985. The patent was awarded in October of 1993, just before Evans leveraged that newly minted paperwork in a 1994 lawsuit against GM. In that lawsuit, he alleged that the company had stolen his trade secrets and implemented them in the LT1, making him due royalties for the engine’s production use.

General Motors hinged its defense on a few key factors, namely its interpretation of contracts signed with Evans Cooling Systems, which GM suggested released any innovations for production use. The timing of the steam-vent discovery, along with the gap between Evans’ awareness of the violation and GM’s launch of the LT1, was hotly contested in the trial.

While the contractual argument was muddied by the casual nature of the two parties’ business relationship, another critical component was General Motors’ claim to have designed its own reverse-flow cooling system, pinhole steam vent included, a year prior to that 1989 hot-tunnel test. The problem? Part of that evidence was fabricated in an elaborate hoax. General Motors lawyers pointed to a 1988 company sketch describing the contested cooling innovation, supposedly found in an engineer’s toolbox. This “forgotten” sketch was submitted, along with a crude prototype, by John Juriga, an LT1 engineer. The story went that Albert Schaefer, a machinist who had worked with Juriga, discovered the sketch after his retirement. Before trial in 2003, Juriga confessed that he had faked the document while under pressure from GM lawyers. Evans’ lawyers confirmed this by finding, on the faked sketch, an imprint of a date that had been written on a sheet of paper laid over the sketch. The sketch had actually been created in 1992.

Evans’s lawyers had also discovered that hoses used to construct a “1988” prototype part used in evidence were date-coded much later, suggesting that the prototype had actually been built after the fact (GM later testified that it was a recreation of the steam vent assembly). Schaefer had been cooperative with the lawsuit until Juriga’s admission of forgery, at which point he invoked his fifth-amendment right to deny questioning during trial.

Evans didn’t win the lawsuit. The judge acknowledged fraudulent evidence but cited the two parties’ various intellectual-property agreements through the ’80s. The vented-reverse-flow cooling system was ruled to fall under earlier agreements, even though GM hadn’t explicitly demanded that Evans develop the tech. The judge also concluded that a Corvette preordered by a West Bloomfield, Michigan, dealership in 1991 predated Evans’ patent filing by enough time to negate any claims made on that specific technology. Evans tried to include the LT1’s successor, the LS-series V-8, in his claim—that engine used similar steam vents—but GM’s lawyers successfully argued to exclude the LS from the suit. The company was ultimately forced to cover Evans’ attorney fees, but its engineers were allowed to utilize steam vents in successive generations of small-block V-8s, including today’s LT-series.

These days, Evans’ company successfully produces waterless coolant for motorsports applications, while General Motors thrives on a fleet of durable V-8s using his invention. If nothing else, the story is a cautionary tale for entrepreneurs and inventors. John Evans has since admitted that his ultimate failure lay in not taking the business side of his work more seriously. He let General Motors become his sole client, and while the trackside conversations were great for securing potentially high-paying development work, it was easy to get comfortable. Once things soured and his invoices were left in the dust, General Motors was holding all the chips.

The post Did GM steal the innovation that made the LT1 possible? The decade-long legal battle. appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The SSC Tuatara has been a long time coming, but America’s latest hypercar is now ready to show off its “1.3 megawatt” twin-turbo V-8, which is a 366-cubic-inch pushrod, flat-plane-crank, LS-style motor with two fuel injectors per cylinder, built by Nelson Racing Engines. The opportunity to push it to its 8800-rpm redline regularly will only cost you a cool $1.6 million.

This high-end V-8 weighs just 428 pounds, a touch under what Aston Martin is quoting for its new twin-turbo V-6 powertrain. McLaren’s 4.0-liter twin-turbo V-8 is also in a similar weight class, yet SSC’s 5.9-liter produces more power than those two British engines combined: 1750 horsepower on E85, or 1350 hp on 91-octane pump gas. That’s why SSC printed “1.3 megawatts” on its valve covers, following Koenigsegg’s lead, which called 2014’s 1341-horsepower One:1 its first “Megacar.”

SSC has been teasing us with the Tuatara since 2011, and this continues with the latest footage showing SSC North America CEO Jerod Shelby taking the first production example for a high-speed drive. While it’s fun to watch and hear the V-8 being angry in that mid-engine pushrod chassis, it will be interesting to see what SSC’s 1.3 megawatts can do above 250 mph.

Designed by Jason Castriota, the Tuatara is a very sleek machine with a drag coefficient of just 0.279 Cd, which is right where Koenigsegg pushed its Jesko Absolut, the Swedish brand’s all-time fastest car, sporting a 0.278 Cd aero package. Hood fins and big turbos seem to pave the way towards the 300+ mph club, the exclusive gambling party already left by Bugatti yet still open to potential newcomers Hennessey, SSC North America, Koenigsegg, or any other carmaker brave enough to go all in.

The post Listen to the SSC Tuatara’s 5.9-liter, twin-turbo LS V-8 at speed appeared first on Hagerty Media.

It’s 4/30, and we’re wrapping up Engine Week at Hagerty with a salute to Buick’s line of big-block V-8s.

GM gave buyers lots of options to choose from when it came to mid-size muscle. Oldsmobile and Pontiac each used a single V-8 engine family across their entire lineup. Meanwhile, Buick, and Chevrolet each had unique small-block and big-block V-8 engine architectures during the muscle car era.

Chevy’s MkIV big-block gave us the 396, 427, and 454 and gets its share of praise, yet Buick’s big-block family doesn’t seem to get the attention it deserves. Let’s take a look at what Buick offered to not only counter its competition with GM, but to challenge most legendary muscle cars ever produced.

Buick’s big-block engine family was a follow-up to the Nailhead series of big V-8s. The 400 was the smallest of the lineup and was found in A-body variants from 1967-69, the three-year span that GM capped it’s A-body mid-size cars from using any engine larger than 400 cubic inches. Buick’s GS 400 was fitted with a 340-horsepower version of the engine from 1967–68, with a 350-hp Stage 1 version joining in 1969.

The 430 saw duty in the 1967–69 Riviera and the B-body Wildcat, along with the massive, C-body Electra, which all packed 360-hp variants of the engine.

There’s a persistent myth that engines with a long stroke are better at producing torque than a similar engine with a shorter stroke. The truth is, torque is a product of displacement and volumetric efficiency. Buick proved that with its 455 V-8, which debuted in 1970. It used a 3.9-inch stroke, the same as the rest of the Buick big-block line. Despite bringing the shortest stroke of any of its corporate cousins, Buick’s 455 was advertised as producing 510 lb-ft of torque, more than Chevy’s 454 and the 455s from Pontiac and Olds.

While it had the shortest stroke of any of its GM V-8 brethren, the 455 also had the largest cylinder bore. That helped Buick’s modestly-sized but efficient intake port move a lot of air with the 2.125-inch valve used in the Stage 1 package. Buick said it was good for 360 horsepower, yet it powered the mid-sized 1970 GS to low-13-second elapsed times in the quarter-mile. Line a Buick GS Stage 1 up against a dual-quad 426 Hemi or a 3×2 427 Corvette and it was a driver’s race. Buick tested a Stage 2 package that was even wilder.

Would the Buick GS and its big-block get more respect today if its 360-hp rating were more honest? Perhaps. In the meantime, let those other muscle car drivers underestimate the power of the 455 big-block. Buick’s muscle cars may not have the notoriety, but there’s something to be said for a sleeper.

The post Celebrating Buick’s unsung big-blocks on 4/30 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

American automakers are currently waging a muscle car horsepower war, but that’s nothing new. While it’s supercharged V-8s in the Challenger Hellcat/Redeye, Shelby GT500, and Camaro ZL1 doing battle today, in the V-8 arms race of the 1960s, displacement was king. Atop them all, Chevrolet’s 427 GM’s line of muscle car V-8s reigned.

Even inside GM, brands battled for horsepower superiority, with Pontiac and Chevrolet firing new salvos of V-8-powered NASCAR and drag-race packages back and forth. Pontiac’s 389 was countered by the Chevy 409, which was met by the Super Duty 421. Chevy’s 427, in various configurations over two generations of big-block, was the brand’s answer during the ’60s. It was Chevy’s most powerful engine for much of the muscle car era’s peak years, earning it a solid reputation on the strip, track, and street. It’s certainly worthy of tribute, especially today, on April 27 (4/27).

The 427 that we all know from the COPO Camaro and L88 Corvette wasn’t the first 427 big-block from Chevrolet. With a horsepower war raging in 1962, Chevy knew that its first generation of production big-blocks would need to be revamped to keep pace with the market. A new iteration of big-block was developed to replace the W-series of engines that had given us the 348 and mythical 409. It kept the same 4.84-inch bore spacing as the 409, added traditional square decks, and added splayed valves with “semi Hemi” combustion chambers.

That “mystery motor” displaced 427 cubic inches and debuted in the 1963 NASCAR American Challenge Cup in a pair of 1963 Corvettes prepped by Mickey Thompson. The wet weather proved to be too much for driver Junior Johnson, who deferred to Bill Krause. Rex White and Thompson shared driving duties in the other 427 Corvette but suspension problems ended their run. A Pontiac won the race, followed by Krause in the 427 Corvette and A.J. Foyt in a small-block Corvette.

The mystery motor made its NASCAR Cup debut shortly after. The engine powered both Junior Johnson and Johnny Rutherford to wins in the two 100-lap qualifying races. Ignition trouble and new engine teething issues plagued the engine during the 500, and Ford swept the podium. The best finish by a Chevy 427 was Rutherford’s ninth-place.

Just a few months later, the W-motor got its own 427-cu-in version in a limited-production run of drag racing Impalas. The 1963 Z11 Impala was a late addition to the model run, and only 50 were built. They were the first production Chevrolets to be powered by a 427 and the 430-horsepower engine made them a menace on the drag strip in Super Stock competition.

The mystery motor set the stage for the Mk IV big-block that would enter production in 1965 with the 396, followed soon by the 427. Those ‘60s power plants ushered in a generation of big-block that is still the basis for the quickest and fastest street cars in the world and the most desirable engine for many a Chevelle, Camaro, and Corvette fanatic.

Even after the Mk IV big-block ended its run in cars it soldiered on in trucks and evolved into the Vortec 454 and eventually the seventh-generation big-block, the 496-cu-in Vortec 8100. Chevy installed its last big-block in a production truck in 2007, but by then at least part of the big-block’s legacy had transferred to the small-block.

Chevrolet resurrected the vaunted 427 name and emblem for the LS7, which debuted in the 2006 Corvette Z06. With a 4.125-inch bore and 4.0-inch stroke, it’s the largest small-block V-8 from Chevrolet, actually displacing 427.8 cubic inches.

The LS7 bottom end used a forged crank for strength and titanium rods to trim weight. The LS7’s heads also used titanium, with massive 2.20-inch intake valves made of the exotic material to reduce weight and help the valve springs keep the valvetrain in check as the engine spun up to its 7,000-rpm redline. Those cylinder heads needed large valves to feed the big engine. The intake ports’ tremendous flow numbers, exceeding 350 cubic feet per minute, are impressive. Equally impressive is the exhaust port, which flowed as much air as the best Gen I small-block heads did on the intake. It all added up to 505 hp, making the LS7 the most powerful naturally aspirated V-8 ever put into a Chevy street car.

The LS7 small-block was used in the C6 Z06, fifth-gen Camaro Z/28, Corvette 427 convertible, and the Australian HSV W427 Commodore sedan. A racing version of the 427 is also used in the COPO Camaro.

There are rumors that the next-gen Z06 will use a DOHC V-8 and far exceed the LS7’s power output, but it will be a totally different animal. For drag racing and stoplight-to-stoplight acceleration, there’s nothing quite like the sudden rush that comes from a tried-and-true 427.

The post Celebrate Chevrolet 427 V-8s on 4/27 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

We’d argue that the 427 is the most legendary engine in Ford’s history—and not simply because today happens to be April 27. However, 4/27 provides an excellent opportunity to explore how the ground-up redesign of the FE produced Ford’s most capable big-block ever. In the Ford Thunderbolt, the 427 dominated the 1964 season of NHRA Super Stock. Carroll Shelby’s primary reason for modifying the Mk II GT40s—that would steal Le Mans from Ferrari in 1966—was to squeeze the 427 into the chassis. The humble side-oiler was also the foundation upon which the infamous SOHC motor was built—an engine so radical that it got pushed out of NASCAR and into the hands of innovative hot rodders like Ed Pink.

Humble beginnings

The Ford-Edsel (FE) family of engine replaced the aging Y-blocks in 1958. The new block retained the Y-block’s deep-skirted design but upped the bore spacing to 4.63 inches to allow for more displacement. In addition, the FE line featured a modernized valvetrain with provisions for hydraulic lifters instead of the old Y-block’s solid units, which reduced noise and made the new engines less maintenance-intensive. The first FE engine was introduced to the world as a humble 332-cubic-inch mill for the ill-fated Edsel brand. In its 390-cu-in format, this engine would become famous in several Ford and Mercury pony cars at the height of the muscle car wars, but it’s the max-bore 427 that we’re here to celebrate today.

Domination

Starting with the 390’s 3.78-inch stroke, Ford hogged out the block for a massive set of 4.23-inch pistons. The 427 represented Ford’s rapid rejoinder to pressure from Mopar in NASCAR, and, thanks to the increased displacement and larger valves, the 427 was a fire-breather.

The 427 would lead Ford’s assault on motorsports at every end of the spectrum. Engineers revised the blocks with a new oil gallery along the side of the crankshaft to provide the necessary oiling for prolonged road racing usage. These “side oilers” proved durable enough for extended race use in the likes of the early Cobras and most notably in the Mk II GT40, with which Ford earned its 1-2-3 victory at Le Mans in 1966. The mad scientists at the Blue Oval would ensure the 427’s infamy, however, when they sought to conquer the banks of NASCAR with the SOHC—in doing so, that the 427 cemented its place in Ford legend.

Sometimes called the “90-day wonder” for its short development time, the SOHC 427 was designed to endure high-rpm thrashing thanks to its direct cam-on-valve mechanism. The design also freed engineers to place the valves in a hemispherical chamber, much like the 426 Hemis sweeping NASCAR and NHRA competition. The overhead cam wonder would be practically banned from NASCAR competition due to differences in opinion over homologation status. However, the engine would see a second life in the hands of land speed record chasers and drag racers.

It’s hard to pick an exact favorite, to be honest. While the SOHC is the pinnacle of big-block Ford engineering in the ’60s, the pushrod-actuated wonders were still highly capable in endurance racing, especially in the relatively compact GT40. The 427 Cobras are also undeniably radical — there’s just too many badass 427s to choose from.

The post An ode to Ford’s 427 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

You might imagine that the hallowed halls of Maranello contain a perfectly tuned orchestra of designers, engineers, and product planners. Customers are paying top dollar, so creative freedom can flourish and each product launch is perfectly polished. However, Ferrari has dealt with its fair share of thorns in its side, and one particular, experimental twin-turbo V-8 proved the victim of bad timing.

In the early ’80s, Ferrari was busy doing what every company does: trying to make money. Italian road taxes increased exponentially on road cars equipped with engines displacing more than 2.0 liters. A power-dense, low-displacement engine was the practical choice, but, of course, road cars were only half the equation for Ferrari.

At the turn of the decade, Ferrari was scrambling to be competitive with the flock of naturally-aspirated, Ford V-8 entries in Formula 1. In 1979, at the French Grand Prix, Renault’s RS10 had just become the first turbocharged car to win a Grand Prix, and though the technology wasn’t yet wildly popular, it was increasingly viable. Two years later, Ferrari campaigned its first turbocharged car, the 1496-cc V-6-powered 126C. Driven by Gilles Villeneuve and Didier Pironi, the 126C earned Ferrari only fifth in the Constructors’ Championship in 1981, but it helped win the title back-to-back years in 1982 and 1983.

It was only a matter of time before Ferrari’s road cars got their share of the turbocharged fun. At Turin’s 1982 motor show, Ferrari debuted the 208 GTB Turbo, which packed a 1990-cc V-8 with a single turbo. Two years later, the 400-hp, twin-turbo, V-8-powered 288 GTO stormed onto the scene. Our best guess is that, sometime between the production of these two engines, Ferrari built three experimental F121 A engines. One example of these twin-turbo V-8s, s/n 002, is up for sale.

At this point, we’ve only got scant information from the auction listing regarding this engine’s development history or what Ferrari planned to do with it. For now, then, we’ll seek to provide some historical context and a couple alternative explanations for its genesis.

The first possibility places these engines in “the early 1980s,” per the auction listing (which Race Cars Direct seems to crib from s/n 002’s 2015 sale through RM Sotheby’s). In 1984 Ferrari was still campaigning a 1.5-liter, single-turbo V-6 in F1, so the three F121 A engines could be a riff on that same low-displacement, forced-induction theme. These twin-turbo, 1996-cc engines also slot into a nice, linear progression in Ferrari’s contemporary road cars, slotting in between the single-turbo, 1990-cc V-8 in the 208 GTB and the twin-turbo, 2855-cc V-8 in the 288 GTO. The F121 A prototypes don’t have catalytic converters, but unfortunately, we can’t infer much from that; the U.S. didn’t mandate them until 1990, and even early F40s didn’t have them. It’s more likely these engines were destined for road cars, especially given their 1996-cc displacement, which skims under the 2.0-liter road tax threshold.

Why did these prototypes never reach production, then? Though they boasted an aggressive 77 mm x 53.6 mm bore and stroke paired with a 7.7:1 compression ratio, maybe they suffered from significant turbo lag or didn’t make power at the right rpms. In any case, the 288 GTO’s larger-displacement powerplant suggests Ferrari ditched the idea of a tax special and was content marketing to deeper-pocketed customers who didn’t mind paying the premium for displacement—and thus, power.

Alternatively, you could argue that, since the F40’s engine type is F120 A, these three F121 A engines came far later in the ’80s. If so, these three 400-hp prototypes wouldn’t have challenged the F40’s 480-hp output—which would explain their lonely, chassis-less condition. Additionally, these 2.0-liter units wouldn’t have a logical place in late-’80s racing. The F40 LM went racing with the same 2.9-liter, twin-turbo configuration as its road-going counterpart. In 1989, Ferrari fielded 3.5-liter V-8s in F1, as well as V-10s; and at the 1989 24 Hours of Le Mans, the smallest engine was Porsche’s 3.0-liter turbo. Turbos were officially the theme; but displacement wasn’t as tightly constrained.

Whether either theory is true—and maybe neither is—now’s your chance to grab a slightly mysterious, exclusive slice of Ferrari history.

Any additional insights regarding this exotic engine orphan? Leave a comment to start a discussion in the Hagerty Community forums.

The post What story does this 1-of-3 experimental Ferrari engine tell? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Cadillac has a rich history of noteworthy engines: the first mass-produced V-8 engine starting in 1915 models, the V-16 of the 1930s and 1940s, and the overhead valve V-8 introduced in 1949. Fast forward to today, and there’s the supercharged 6.2-liter V-8 that cranks out 640 horsepower and is found in the 2019 CTS-V; the Escalade uses a naturally aspirated version of the engine, where it makes 420 horsepower. While the CTS-V has been discontinued, there are rumblings that the 6.2-liter will be the engine in the upcoming CT5-V Blackwing. And then there is the intriguingly named Blackwing DOHC V-8 in the now-defunct CT6-V.

An offshoot of the production 6.2-liter V-8 is the version that has found great success in Cadillac’s recent efforts in IMSA, where it races in the Daytona prototype class, or DPi; in racing applications, the engine displaces 5.5 liters and makes 580 horsepower at 7050 rpm. Cadillac has won the last four straight Rolex 24 Hour at Daytona competitions. At the 2020 race, Cadillac set a new race mileage record of 833 laps and 2965.48 miles.

DPi cars are restricted to using a chassis provided by one of four manufacturers, and none of them makes a mass-produced road car. Participants that purchase a chassis from one of the four are allowed to design the body that envelopes the chassis, but there is little resemblance to the company’s production vehicles.

The common denominator between road and race car is the engine, which is based on the production unit. In the case of the Cadillac, it uses a cylinder block, head castings, and head gaskets that have Cadillac part numbers. Other critical components, such as a fully counterweighted crankshaft, stout forged pistons, and steel H-beam connecting rods, are supplied by aftermarket companies. In the case of Cadillac, its engines are built by ECR Engines of Welcome, North Carolina.

Since DPi cars are limited to a maximum output of 600 horsepower—a number that is readily attainable without resorting to outrageous tuning tricks—ECR is able to concentrate on making the Cadillac’s engine robust and reliable. And that reliability has been critical to its success in the series. Case in point: this year at Daytona, all four Cadillacs were still running when the checkered flag dropped.

IMSA recently kicked off a new video series named Cars Are Star, where it is highlighting the technology and on-track achievements of the manufacturers competing in the WeatherTech SportsCar Championship and the IMSA Michelin Pilot Challenge. The first episode features Cadillac’s DPi cars; you can check it out here or watch the video below.

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Cosplay is a fascinating subculture of the American geek population. A surprising number of comic book fans, movie buffs, and sci-fi aficionados like nothing more than turning up at conventions on the weekend dressed as their favorite fictional heroes, with some going to fantastic lengths when assembling their picture-perfect costumes and accessories.

What if I told you that the same option was now available for classic cars? I’m not talking about the fake “426 Hemi” stickers you see on air cleaners, or the white lie SS badges on the front fenders of an otherwise ordinary B-body. No, I’m talking about high-level costuming on par with what the most creative Sailor Moon fanatics are able to assemble in their living rooms with the help of a sewing machine and a bottle of glitter.

Sound far-fetched? Not if you’re one of the companies that have recently released entire lines of parts intended to disguise a swapped LS engine under the hood of their otherwise stock-appearing automobile. Is this a dollop of vintage flavor or a pointless ingredient that masks the owner’s sense of taste? Check it out and decide on your own:

Not everyone is a fan

Let’s back things up a little bit. For those who might not be aware, not all enthusiasts are necessarily accepting nor understanding when it comes to swapping a stock, vintage powertrain for a modern mill like an LS V-8. Maybe you’d get some slack if you decided to deal with a troublesome drivetrain by installing a same-era engine from the same OEM, even if it’s one that didn’t originally come with the vehicle in question. Once you start looking outside the brand box for a solution, however, or suggest that maybe a fuel-injected replacement is the answer to your vapor-lock woes, it might elicit a different response when you pop the hood at cars and coffee. Yes, reliability and horsepower might be better, but replacing the original motor with a modern transplant makes some traditionalists bristle.

Period costume

LS engines are among the most common swaps out there. Well-packaged, reasonably powerful right out of the box, and inexpensive to find in salvage yards across the nation thanks to their proliferation in pickups, they’ve become the go-to choice for restorers and hot-rodders alike seeking an uncomplicated, modern V-8.

Trouble is, these engines look very little like the vintage small-block Chevys and other traditional, carbureted motors that they replace. Enter Lokar, which for the past several years has been offering the LS Classic series of bolt-on parts intended to turn back the clock on your drivetrain’s cosmetics. Dive in to Lokar’s extensive list of parts, and you’ll be startled to find intakes that run the gamut from cathedral port to ’57 fuelie, to Tri-Power, all of which mesh perfectly with existing LS engine drive-by-wire or drive-by-cable setup.

Up next? Valve covers that will help you further disguise your 6.2-liter LS as a 283, a 327, or a 409, valley plates that cinch everything together, and hidden aftermarket electronic fuel injection systems that help conjure the illusion that you’ve got a carb in there somewhere are also on the table. Some of Lokar’s add-ons even abandon functionality in favor of pure automotive cosplay. For example, a false distributor kit is available to fool onlookers into thinking you’ve abandoned the coil-on-plug setup of a modern LS, as are coil relocation kits.

Does all of the above sound exhausting to you? Lokar will sell you a complete LS3 crate engine that’s been made-up to look like the traditional Chevrolet mill of your choice.

One piece at a time

Before these kits and others like it hit the scene, it was possible to fabricate your way into the drives new/looks old dichotomy, either by disguising certain aspects of the LS engine’s appearance or by adding aftermarket parts that could throw purist bloodhounds off the scent. A piecemeal approach can be a time-consuming challenge. Still, there are other suppliers out there like Delmo’s that will provide adapters for you to, say, cover your LS swap’s valve covers with traditional Ford units, or move your coils away from prying eyes. Holley offers coil covers to make your Gen III or Gen IV LS small-block look more like a ’60s Mk IV big-block. Drive Junky or Vintage Air will sell you a serpentine setup that more closely mimics the look of an earlier small-block, and if you’re willing to forgo the primary appeal of the LS—ease of tuning, dependable fuel injection—then a host of aftermarket carbureted intakes are available that can further fool observers about the age of your engine.

Build what you want, drive what you want

There’s no question that keeping old things looking old is a worthy enterprise. Period-correct modifications that don’t distract from the original design keep the intent of a car harmonious with its styling. Likewise, survivors, or vehicles that have been restored to their original condition, are respectful time capsules that pay homage to the era they represent. That being said, it’s ultimately up to the owner as to how they want their vehicle to look, drive, or feel out on the road. I may personally not want to dress up like Batman outside of October 31, but that doesn’t mean I begrudge anyone else who does. If you want modern technology and engineering with a bit of that original look, and you don’t mind a bit of costume pageantry in the engine bay, cosplay to your heart’s content.

The post Disguise your modern engine swap with these “old-school” parts appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Imagine this: It’s the ’60s, a fresh decade of optimism, and new competition across Detroit has you designing the successor to your employer’s hemispherical V-8, which was once ground-breaking but now is limited by displacement. What’s your solution?

Chrysler introduced the Wedge in 1958 to counter pressure from Pontiac, Ford and Chevrolet, and this engine departed from the Pentastar brand’s notorious family of Hemis. The major change was in the shape of the combustion chamber, which dumped the Hemi’s salad bowl chambers and splayed valves (along with the associated pair of rocker shafts for each head) for what we now would call a more “conventional,” wedge-shaped combustion chamber with the intake and exhaust valves arranged in a line.

This new cylinder head design substantially reduced cost thanks to a number of resulting changes: the combustion chamber could be created when the head was cast at the foundry with only a bit of touch-up needed for the valves, unliked the wholly machined domes of the Hemi that were carved out of blank heads. In addition, the Wedge’s single-shaft valvetrain reduced the engine’s width considerably. Above all else, though, the smaller combustion chambers, when combined with flat-top pistons, squeezed out massive compression ratios—especially when it came to today’s engine: the 413 Max Wedge.

The post-war wonder that was the first-generation of hemispherical-headed engines was outgunned by the likes of the Super Duty Pontiac 421 and Chevrolet 409. Chrysler’s new line of big-blocks was made to answer the big-inch destroyers it sought in racing while simultaneously fitting between the fenders of Chrysler’s lighter “intermediate” cars. 

In 1959, the 413 Wedge came into the picture with its tall-deck RB block. Raised from 9.98 inches to 10.725, the taller deck afforded Chrysler the displacement needed to go toe-to-toe with 409s and 421s in NHRA racing. However, the standard 413 found in the Chrysler family of passenger cars and heavy trucks wasn’t ready for the spotlight just yet.

The cross-ram equipped Wedges were known for their robust power numbers, making upwards of 375 hp by 1961. The engine found success in NASCAR racing in particular—thanks to the brutal torque produced by the long-runner, dual-quad intake—but the competition’s street packages soon broke the four-hundred horsepower mark, and it was time for Highland Park’s hot rodders to answer the call. 

The “Maximum Performance Wedge” was introduced in Dodge and Plymouth models as the Ramcharger 413 and Super Stock 413, respectively. Chrysler distilled the past four years of 413 competition experience into this feisty Wedge, first by taking the massive cross-ram intake and compressing it into short-runner design that improved top-end horsepower; the standard long-runner, in comparison, showed a propensity for low-end torque. Chrysler had experimented with the short-runner design before via an over-the-counter dealer speed part that practically halved the intake ports down to 15 inches in length and paired it with a wild set of upward-swept manifolds that flowed in a tri-Y configuration. Compression skyrocketed with two options: 11:1 and 13.5:1 for 390 hp and 410 hp, respectively, depending on the slugs fitted to the 413’s 4.18-inch bores. A forged crankshaft was used and provided the standard 3.75-inch stroke of the tall-deck RB-series of big-blocks, matched to a set of Magnafluxed-inspected rods to ensure high standards of quality control and durability. A solid-lifter camshaft was paired with dual valve springs to contain the pushrod and rocker assembly at over 6000 rpm, and the heads were heavily ported over their standard brethren. 

The brainchild of Tom Hoover and his Ramcharger skunkworks racing team, the 413 Max Wedge became a force to be reckoned with. The new powerplant shattered NHRA Super Stock records and would go on to be the first production-engined machine to break the 12-second barrier with Tom Grove’s “Melrose Missile” 1962 Plymouth Savoy spitting out an 11.93 at 118.57 mph in July of ’62. It wouldn’t necessarily make up for the 409’s ultimate victory that season at the hands of “Dyno” Don Nicholson, but it triggered the laser-beam focus of Mopar’s performance boffins. The following year, the NHRA and NASCAR would clarify their maximum displacement rules, and so Chrysler stretched the bores out to 4.25 inches and found its notorious 426-inch combo. On paper, if you believed the sweet-nothings whispered by contemporary horsepower ratings, the additional displacement gifted the Max Wedge with another 20 or so horses, and was sold as a “race-only” package by dealerships. The new Stage II Max Wedges continued the momentum in NHRA while finding favor at NASCAR’s superspeedways.

Chrysler would bring back the mammoth hemispherical heads for 1964 at the behest of NASCAR and NHRA teams, who were pushing the big-block platform as hard as possible to keep up with increasing pressure from Ford and GM.

Though it left the limelight, the wedge-headed Mopar big-block was refined in 1965 as the 440 we all know and love with a new, lighter thin-wall block punched out to 4.32 inches. The 413 was, in essence, a flash-in-the-pan for Mopar, but it began the onslaught of performance that peaked with the big-block wing cars at the end of the decade. And besides its Max Wedge watermark, more plebian 413s served in a mixture of luxury sedans and heavy-duty trucks, ensuring that the discerning Wedge-head could have his ramp truck, race car, and Sunday driver powered by the same slice of Mopar brilliance.

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The ninth of April marks a special place in our hearts, for it is a day in which we commemorate one of Chevrolet’s more famous powerplants: the 409! Before we knew what to call it, the infamous big-block bubble-top Chevys were the foundation of what would eventually lead to the muscle car movement. But to get to where the Bowtie brand’s first big-block came from, we have to start in 1955, with the development that led to its initial offering with the 348-cubic-inch W-series.

The vehicular excess of the ’50s had shown Chevrolet engineers that the humble small-block was being taxed by ever-heavier new models. Especially in the heavier-duty trucks, the engineers wanted more power than the 265-cu-in, and later 283-cu-in, mouse motor could muster without excessive RPM and wear. They needed something bigger.

Many of the W-motor’s most iconic traits came out of necessity for Chevrolet. It wanted the new big-block to serve a number of applications, meaning that it would need different compression ratios for the different engine packages. To save on expensive cylinder head tooling, the W-motors instead used a 74-degree deck—as opposed to the traditional 90 degrees— to create the space for the combustion chamber in the block while the heads were machined flat. This meant that instead of retooling the cylinder heads with different-sized combustion chambers before they were cast in molten iron, the compression ratios could be easily changed by using pistons with different dome volumes to create the final combustion chamber volume in the angled deck. The resulting 16-degree wedge-shaped combustion chamber between the head and piston was efficient for its day. When combined with a 4.125-inch bore and 3.25-inch stroke, it gave the motor the low RPM grunt demanded by buyers when it was introduced in 1958 as the 348-cu-in Turbo-Thust series of engines. Underneath the famous scalloped valve covers were staggered valves, which help keep the big-block as compact as possible.

Horsepower ranged from 250–350 by the end of its production run, thanks in part to the iconic 3×2 progressive carburetor setup with three two-barrel Rochesters. These things began to fly off the shelves with four-speeds and positraction differential tacked onto the order sheet as the new big-block found itself as a tool at the track in the Impala SS. By 1961, however, Chevrolet had finally done what it always does to its best ideas: added more cubic inches.

The 409-cu-in big-block was born with an additional 1/4-inch of stroke (3.5-inch total) and another 3/16-inch in the bore for 4.312-inch slugs. GM eventually designed a new engine block for the 409 with thicker cylinder walls, warning that boring the 348 block led to cracks. This increase in bore also unshrouded the exhaust valves, no longer necessitating the notch seen in the 348’s smaller-diameter combustion chamber, and it gave Chevrolet a real fire-breather for the racers. The heads were essentially the same, but the valvetrain received several minor updates to beef it up for increased spring pressures and hotter cams. The 409 hit the streets with a stout 360 horsepower with the base single-four barrel carb, and 380 hp with a dual-quad setup. It would receive minor changes in 1962 as the engine found its groove in NHRA and stock car racing—including much-needed larger valves—and some random kids from Hawthorn decided that the hi-po 409, with a dual-quad, four-speed, and positraction backing it, was worth singing about. And it wasn’t just Chevrolet that had its fun with the W-motor, but also Pontiac. Well, Pontiac-Canada, which carried its own models that rode on Chevrolet chassis with Chevrolet drivelines, but wore Pontiac’s own unique sheet metal and badging, including the “Super-Flame” branded Chevy 409s.

Thankfully, the 409 backs up its lore with some brutal accomplishments. The Z11 package, Chevrolet’s answer to its lighter competition, became a wicked sleeper success when it was introduced. The 427-cu-in masterpiece kept the 409’s bore but increased the stroke to 3.65 inches. The new rotating assembly managed to squeeze out a 13.5:1 compression ratio, and when fed by the dual-quad Carters on a new aluminum intake manifold stamped out 430 hp and 435 lb-ft of torque. This would be the swan song of the W-motor, as its next-generation replacement was already throwing punches in racing as the infamous Mystery Motor. 

While its role was transitional in Chevrolet engine development, the W-motor’s mark on the world has been everlasting thanks to its rapid escalation of performance as we entered the ’60s. The now inescapably venerable 409, four-speed combo is an icon in the beams of Pomona as it was on the banks of Daytona. For Chevrolet, it ushered in an era of big-cube performance and trickle-down engineering that will probably never be seen again.

So the next time you see those upside-down W valvecovers between the fenders, you’ll know a little more about Chevrolet’s first big-block.

The post Chevrolet’s 409 is a fine way to celebrate 4/09 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Today it’s common to find engines from several manufacturers that share displacement figures. Engineers determined that 500 cc per cylinder is a sweet spot for efficiency with low emissions and, consequently, there are lots of 2.0-liter four-cylinders, 3.0-liter sixes, and 4.0-liter V-8s. Before that discovery, road taxes in some countries also influenced displacement. Plenty of manufacturers ended up with engines designed to fit under certain mandated thresholds.

In America, however, there were no such taxes. Engine displacement was seemingly determined by whatever fraction of an inch the engineer or machinist’s caliper decided to land on. Despite the endless number of bore and stroke combinations that those slide-ruler-wielding engineers could have selected, the resulting displacements often matched those from another manufacturer. As we’ll see, sometimes the common displacement wasn’t by coincidence.

We’re gonna keep the metric measurements to a minimum. Dive into 11 engine displacements shared by different American manufacturers.

302

Thanks to its long-time use of the engine in everything from the Falcon to the Galaxie, the 302 is nearly synonymous with Ford. The engine was used in the GT40 but perhaps its most notable role was in the Mustang, when a series of Boss 302 models enjoyed significant Trans Am success. Of course, it was the SCCA’s 5.0-liter limit in Trans Am that also led Chevrolet to develop its own 302 small-block, using the same 4.0-inch bore and 3.0-inch stroke that Ford used to achieve the same displacement. Chevrolet only used its 302 V-8 in the 1967–69 Z/28 for North America, but it also appeared in South Africa’s Chevrolet Can-Am, a tiny coupe based on the Vauxhall Viva.

327

The Rambler V-8 first paired a 4.0-inch bore with a 3.25-inch stroke in 1957. The new 327 debuted in a limited run of Rambler Rebels. Still, it was Chevrolet that made the displacement famous. Solid-lifter 327s, most of them carbureted, offered a power-dense package born from racing. The fuel-injected L84, available only on the Corvette, made the 327 engine even more powerful—and also quite a beautiful specimen when the hood was popped.

350

Four of GM’s divisions had their own 350-cubic-inch V-8, and each was unique. Buick’s largest small-block achieved its displacement—which was actually 349 cubic inches—with an almost perfectly square 3.8-inch bore and 3.85-inch stroke. It was used in full-size Jeeps before AMC replaced it with its own V-8. Oldsmobile’s oversquare 350, with its 4.057-inch bore and 3.385-inch stroke, saw some performance duty thanks to the W31 package that borrowed parts from its 455 cousins. Pontiac’s 350 displaced 354 cubic inches thanks to a 3.875 bore and 3.75-inch stroke. In its high-output form, with large-valve heads and a more aggressive cam, it was a formidable power plant in the Firebird. Finally, Chevy’s 350, the result of a 4.0-inch bore and 3.48-inch stroke, is the most ubiquitous iteration. Debuting in the Camaro in 1967, it became the default small-block Chevy displacement for decades and has likely powered more hot-rodded cars, trucks, and boats than any other engine in history.

351

Ford built two versions of the 351—Windsor and Cleveland—each named after its manufacturing location. The 351 Windsor was essentially a tall-deck version of the 302 with a 3.5-inch stroke. The 351 Cleveland had identical bore, stroke, and bore spacing, but used a different block. Cleveland heads feature canted valves and offers tremendous performance potential. It’s possible, with the right intake and some machining, to mount Cleveland heads on the more readily available Windsor block to create what enthusiasts have dubbed a “Clevor” engine.

There’s also another, lesser-known 351, this time a V-6. GMC’s truck engine family spawned V-6, V-8, and V-12 engines and the smallest one, at 305 cubic inches, was found in GMC pickups and Suburbans throughout the 1960s. The 351 V-6 used the same 3.58-inch stroke as the 305, but increased to bore to 4.56inches. You can find them under the hoods of medium-duty trucks.

360

Mopar, AMC, and Ford all built 360-cubic-inch V-8s. AMC’s 360 debuted in 1970 and would last until the Jeep Wagoneer left production in 1991. Despite its smaller 4.080-inch bore compared to its 390 and 401 big brothers, there’s still quite a lot of performance to be had from the 360. Perhaps the most recognizable 360, Mopar’s small-block used a 4.0-inch bore and 3.58-inch stroke and saw duty in cars, vans, and trucks. It began as an LA small-block that evolved into the Magnum and lasted until the Gen III Hemi replaced it. Ford built the 360 on its FE V-8 architecture. It served admirably in trucks from 1968–76.

390

The same 4.05-inch bore from Ford’s 360 FE engine netted 390 cubic inches when paired with a 3.785-inch stroke. Although the displacement seems to have faded from modern memory, it was the engine that powered the most famous Mustang ever built. AMC’s 390 was only built from 1968–70 before it was supplanted by the 401, yet its strong performance in the AMX cemented its legacy.

400

Chevrolet’s big-block 396 eventually ended up displacing 402 cubic inches after the bore changed from 4.094 to 4.124 for 1970. Chevrolet continued calling it “396” in some applications and labeled 400 in others. To make things even more confusing, Chevrolet expanded its small-block in 1970 using a 4.125-inch bore and 3.75-inch stroke. Different recipe, same result: 400 cubic inches. Buick’s 400 V-8 was the smallest of its big-block line, with a 4.04-inch bore and 3.9-inch stroke. Mopar’s 400 big-block V-8 used the largest bore of any production Mopar V-8 at 4.343 inches, making it ripe for a stroker build.

But wait, there are more: a Ford Cleveland-based 400M V-8 with a 4.00-inch bore and stroke and two Oldsmobile V-8s—first a 4.0-inch bore and 3.975-inch stroke version in 1965–67 followed by an undersquare 3.87-inch bore and 4.25-inch stroke version in 1968 and 1969.

401

Before there was the big-block Buick family that gave us the 400 and 455, there was the Nailhead. The 401, Buick’s largest Nailhead available in A-bodies, made 325 horsepower in 1966 Skylark GS guise. Tommy Ivo joined four Nailheads together in a series of exhibition dragsters. AMC’s 401 didn’t get the same showboat treatment. Still, its prowess on the street in AMX and Javelin trim couldn’t be overlooked. It also powered full-size Jeeps, giving them ample torque for off-roading and towing.

427

NASCAR and FIA both had racing classes that limited engine displacement to 7.0 liters. That explains why there are so many engines right around that displacement, including Mopar’s 426 Hemi. Chevrolet’s big-block 427 powered some of the brand’s most collectible Corvettes, while Ford’s 427 was famously used in the most brutal versions of the Shelby Cobra.

428

Pontiac’s 428 V-8, used in full-size muscle cruisers and dealer-installed in place of the stock 400 V-8 in some GTOs, actually displaced 427 cubic inches by way of a 4.12-inch bore and 4.0-inch stroke. Chevrolet’s LS7 small-block, often advertised as a 427, actually displaced 428 cubic inches. It used a 4.155-inch bore and 4.0-inch stroke. Ford’s 428 achieved similar displacement to the 427 that used the same FE engine architecture. The 428’s smaller bores (4.135  versus 4.235 inches) made it more forgiving during casting. Also used in the Shelby Cobra, the 428 was probably more famous for powering Mustang and Torino bruisers on the street and drag strip.

455

Like the 350, GM’s Buick, Olds, and Pontiac divisions each had unique 455 engines with different bore/stroke combinations. Pontiac’s 455 displaced 456 cubic inches using a 4.1525-inch bore and 4.21-inch stroke. It was used in land yachts and cruisers but also the GTO and Firebird/Trans Am. Oldsmobile, like Pontiac, didn’t have a true big-block and also relied on a long stroke to arrive at 455 cubic inches. Buick, thanks to its big-block’s bore spacing, got the largest bore, at 4.31 inches, and the shortest stroke, at 3.9 inches. The Buick 455 offered not only plenty of horsepower, but the highest torque rating of the three, with an advertised 510 lb-ft. When equipped with the Stage II package, the GSX was every bit as formidable on the strip as the lauded 426 Hemi.

Bonus: 383

Mopar dropped its big-block 383 into family cars and performance cars alike. There was also an MEL (Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln) with a 383-cubic-inch displacement from 1958–60. However, it’s the 383 Chevy small-block that became the standard-bearer for the displacement. As it was never installed by Chevy at the factory, that’s a strange honor. It’s likely the most well-known “stroker” displacement. It came to be by combining a Chevy 350 block bored .030 inches over with the 3.75-inch crank from a 400. Initially, it wasn’t that simple, as the 350 blocks and 400 cranks have different main bearing diameters. The aftermarket solved that with cast cranks that were ready to drop in. For decades, a 383 was the small-block to build for street and strip applications. If a 350 crank requires machine work during a rebuild, the cost of adding some extra displacement is often too low to ignore.

Did we forget one of your favorites? Let us know in the comments.

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No matter how fun and tailpipe-emission-free EVs may be, it’s hard to ignore that the currently available lithium-based batteries are heavy, bulky, and not great for the environment once you look at their whole lifecycle. When the equivalent volume of gasoline packs at least 50 times more energy, even an electric drivetrain’s extreme efficiency can’t compensate for the limitations of the cells themselves, not to mention the dead weight the vehicle carries at all times.

That being said, hydrogen fuel cell technology is far from the point where it’s viable as a competitor to battery-electric vehicles (BEVs), mostly because the infrastructure is not yet there to support the technology. And even when hydrogen gets to a point where it is produced in sufficient quantities to be priced competitively, BMW’s R&D boss Klaus Fröhlic argues that “it will then be used primarily in applications that cannot be directly electrified, such as long-distance heavy duty transport.” There’s already evidence of this happening in the rail and marine industries, among other fields where fuel cells are used in a hybrid application.

BMW, however, is not giving up on the idea of keeping fuel cells “a candidate for the fourth pillar of its powertrain portfolio in the long term.” The company announced that very soon we will see a hydrogen-powered system in a new SUV based on the X5.

The Bavarians presented their first hydrogen prototypes as early as in 2000. Fifteen 750hLs were made, with the V-12s producing 201 horsepower when burning hydrogen. Back then, fuel cells were only used to power the on-board electronics system.

In 2005, BMW followed up with 100 Hydrogen 7s based on the 760i, offering 256 horsepower and 125-miles of pure hydrogen range, for a combined 400 using the remaining 19.5 gallons of gasoline. These Chris Bangle-designed innovation specials were then leased to selected high-profile friends of BMW.

Fifteen years and quite a few fuel cell concepts later, BMW partner Toyota is selling the rather attractive second-generation of its Mirai hydrogen car, while BMW promises its pilot program involving X5-based fuel cell vehicles in 2022.

And while most of us would rather drive the i8-based fuel cell prototype pictured above, it’s worth looking at what BMW will jam into a few of its “mid-size” SUVs when 2022 arrives:

The BMW i Hydrogen NEXT comes with a 125-kW fuel cell system, fed from a pair of 10,152-psi (700 bar) tanks holding 13.2-pounds of hydrogen in total. Refueling these tanks will take “three to four minutes”, while BMW’s fifth-generation eDrive unit (debuting in the BMW iX3) boosts total system output of 275 kW (374 hp).

No word on range yet, but this hybrid powertrain will see limited use in 2022, followed by a series production fuel cell in the second half of this decade, at the earliest. By then, more of us should be able to ride on hydrogen-powered buses, trams, trains, and perhaps even boats, while driving cars like the battery-electric BMW i4.

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Growing up, my mechanical fascination started with disassembling Briggs and Stratton single-cylinder lawn mower engines that Dad brought home from various scrap piles and recycling yards. I might not have known what all the parts did (and I almost never put them back together) but my destructive phase was nonetheless formative. It created a foundation that helped things click when I started reading books and manuals. Images of piston-engine internals were rendered sharp and detailed in my mind’s eye.

Sometimes I forget that not everyone I encounter, even those with an interest in engines, grew up with the same education. A co-worker here at Hagerty, for instance, has been wading deeper and deeper into the pool of motorcycles and really wanted to tackle a project bike, including an engine rebuild. He only possessed a handful of generic tools, so I recommended he start small with tune-ups and cosmetic bits, working his way up. Then, totally by accident, I ended up with the perfect project for him to jump straight into the deep end. To ensure he didn’t get too in over his head, I’d be there to guide him.

I’d picked up a 1989 Honda XR250R during one of my typically dangerous perusals of Facebook Marketplace. The bike, with its price set at a dollar per CC, caught my eye right away. My truck was already warming up when I got the message with the seller’s address.

The oil-and-air-cooled 250-cc single-cylinder dual sport motorcycle was for sure a work in progress, and the seller openly admitted he wasn’t very handy with tools. He had cleaned the carb and put in a new air filter but the bike still wouldn’t run. At that point he declared defeat and wanted it out of his shop. To save the project from a slow and tragic part-out death, I loaded it into my pickup and paid the man.

Things went from bad to worse for the poor Honda. The engine was not locked up and had decent (but not great) compression. I figured with some fiddling I could have the thing running and have a cheap machine to loan out to friends for trail rides. Oh, how wrong I was. On the second try to start it, one of the intake valves broke free from the metallurgical constraints which bound it together and punched a hole in the piston, locking up the engine solid.

There was, however, a silver lining to me shelling out a financial offering to the Wiseco piston gods for this lost cause of a motorcycle. That friend of mine who wanted to learn about engines came over and helped me rebuild the top end of the bike. With each part and piece we removed, cleaned, or replaced, we had a discussion about what each piece did, why we are or are not replacing specific parts, and how components interact with the rest of the system. He even learned how to make a tap out of a Grade 8 bolt by cutting small serrations in the starter threads, for when there is no bottoming tap available locally in the size you need.

I’m not a professional teacher, and I am not a top-tier expert. I don’t pretend to be either of those things. When he asked questions I couldn’t answer, we both learned by researching together. The engine came apart quickly, but unlike those Briggs and Stratton beasts I spent so much time on all those years ago, he got to enjoy kicking this project over and hearing it run. Even took it for a ride.

I could have done this project in a weekend alone in my garage. Instead, it took almost three weeks because I was coordinating our schedules and taking the time to talk through every little step as we did it. And the experience was worth every minute; we both got to rescue this unloved Honda and set the hook of motorcycle repair that much deeper in his mind. He is now shopping for a few new tools and a less ambitious project bike than he was before, which is perfect. I look forward to helping him with whatever he buys.

You don’t really have to go far out of your way to share how rewarding this hobby can be. Invite someone new to come work on something you were going to do anyway. Even basic maintenance can be a fantastic learning opportunity for someone who is currently only watching YouTube videos or reading books. Help them get grease on their hands. Sharing knowledge and stoking the fire of gearhead enthusiasm is what’ll keep our beloved hobby around for generations to come.

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It’s March 27, also known as 3/27, and we thought it was high time to pay homage to one of the most well-known small-block displacements of all time. AMC debuted its 327 V-8 first, but it was the solid-lifter Chevy 327s that made the displacement famous. We’re going to highlight just a few iterations of the Bow Tie brand’s greatest small-blocks of all time and what made them so special.

The 327 debuted in 1962. It featured a 4.00-inch bore and a 3.25-inch stroke, increases of an eighth-inch and a quarter-inch, respectively, over the 283. It was available everywhere the 283 had been in 1961, which meant it went under the hood of all the full-size Biscayne, Bel Air, and Impala models, as well as the Corvette. The only Chevrolet cars that didn’t have it as an option for 1962 were the Corvair and Chevy II.

Both 250- and 300-horsepower versions of the 327 were available in the full-size Chevy cars, where it was overshadowed by the 409 W-motors. Still, at 300 horsepower it offered substantial power density and was potent enough that Chevrolet discontinued the 348 in passenger cars, including the 340-horsepower four-barrel and 350-horsepower 3×2 version. The fact that the 327 was more than 100 pounds lighter than the big-block 348 was a nice bonus as well.

Corvette also got the 250- and 300-horsepower 327 variants in 1962, but also 340-horsepower four-barrel and a 360-horsepower fuel-injected options, both with higher compression ratio (11.0:1) and the solid lifter “Duntov” cam that had been used on 283s since 1957.

For 1963, a new fuel injection intake manifold, arguably the best-looking ever installed on a Chevy small-block—the Z/28’s cross-ram is an also an acceptable alternative—debuted on the Corvette’s top engine option. At 360 horsepower, this new engine, L84 as it came to be known in Chevrolet RPO speak, continued to use the Duntov cam that was also used on the 340-horsepower L76 and its four-barrel Carter AFB carb.

A new solid-lifter cam replaced the long-running Duntov bumpstick for 1964. Known as the “30-30” cam because of its hot lash setting for the intake and exhaust—in thousands of an inch—the new cam didn’t mean new engine codes, but it did add power. The L76 was now rated at 365 horsepower. Meanwhile the L84, the king of 327 small-blocks, now produced 375 horsepower with its new cam. That was a gross horsepower rating, but it would be the highest output ever claimed by a two-valve Chevy small-block until the 5.7-liter LS6 debuted in the C6 Z06 in 2001. The L85 would last through 1965, but the high-priced fuel injection option would end there, as the big-block took up the role of high-performance Vette powerplant.

The actual specifications of the 30-30 cam are up for debate, but various aftermarket manufacturers offer their own versions that claim to mimic the sound or/or performance. Comp Cams offers a duplicate 30-30 grind with 247/254 degrees of duration and .504/.498 lift, which is quite aggressive for a street-going 327. For comparison, a modern LT1 V-8 found in the Camaro SS uses a hydraulic roller cam with a duration of 200/207-degrees.

For 1965, Chevrolet introduced the L79 327. Rated at 350 horsepower with its four-barrel carb,  it was the highest performance 327 available with a hydraulic roller cam. Considering the camshaft was only a few ponies down from the L76, the reduced maintenance from not having to periodically lash the valves must have been a revelation. The L79 327 turned the 1966 Nova SS into a pint-sized muscle car and served in various other Chevy cars through 1968 before it bowed out and the 350 took over.

Besides its series of performance camshafts, the secret to wringing 6,000-rpm power out of a 327 came down to its high-flowing cylinder heads. While they were used on plenty of high-performance 283, 302, 327, and 350 engines with carburetors, the heads earned the “fuelie” nickname for their use in the highest output small-block Corvettes.

The fuelie heads which, despite what Bruce Springsteen’s Racing in the Streets may tell you, simply won’t fit on a 396 big-block, were the go-to cylinder head for small-block racers for decades. Even when the L31 Vortec 350 came out offering the best factory iron small-block heads Chevrolet ever cast, nostalgic racers still clamored for the fuelie head. In the right engine builder’s hands, fuelie heads could be ported with truly impressive results. Their distinctive casting marks, frequently referred to as “camel hump” or “double hump,” was a telltale sign that savvy motorheads could spot in an engine bay and know that the engine had potential. The camel hump has been reproduced by Trick Flow in a modern aluminum casting so that engine builders can have modern performance with the proper vintage look.

Is there anything a 327 can do that a 350 can’t? Well, not really. The difference is that while the 350 soldiered on into the 21st century and powered emissions-choked wagons and pickups along the way, the 327 burned brightly for only a few years and then went away. So while not every 327 was a solid-lifter, fuel-injected beast, it has a connotation of ’60s high-performance while the tens of millions of 350s doing yeoman work tend to drown out the stellar LT-1 and short-lived LT4.

Since there’s no March 50th on the calendar, today is as good a day as any to celebrate the Chevy small-block. Besides, we think that every performance small-block built since then has a little bit of 327 DNA inside.

The post This 3/27, celebrate Chevrolet’s power-packed small-block appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Contemporary pony cars, with their retro designs and modern tech, are hotter than ever; but how do you feel about the fact that many now have cylinder counts below the almighty number of eight? One Hagerty Forums user had his mind changed recently when he picked up a 2014 Ford Mustang equipped with the 3.7-liter, 300-hp V-6.

The six-cylinder used to be the dependable workhorse of any lineup, built for strength rather than power. However, recent developments have changed the reputation of most six-cylinders. Just about every manufacturer has a six-cylinder that it drops in multiple cars in its lineup, and not simply workaday SUVs. From 2015–17 Ford offered a Duratec V-6 in the Mustang, an engine which also lived in the Ford F-150 and Edge, along with Lincoln’s MKT, and made 300 hp when tuned for the Mustang.

That output, in a world of 707-hp Hellcat V-8s, doesn’t seem impressive. As the Hagerty Forums discussed, though, the facts hold true—300 hp is 300 hp. There was a time not long ago that no pony car had 300 hp; now “base” models are packing that kind of heat.

There are drawbacks, of course. The exhaust note of a V-6, let alone a turbo four, leaves something to be desired for the pony car purist. However, if the tenor is the only thing holding you back from enjoying modern muscle, maybe it’s time to give one a try. Contribute to the conversation, but be warned; modern V-6 pony cars just might change your mind.

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