I touched on this topic in some other threads. But will consolidate that info, and new info here.

My 1989 Dodge B250 has throttle body fuel injection.
At the base of the throttle body, there are several vaccuum ports.

One of these vaccuum ports goes to the air cleaner temperature sensor port  on the underside of the air cleaner.
Another vaccuum line goes from this sensor to a vaccuum modulator, which lifts a door, and diverts incoming air to either come from a heat collector stove pipe on teh passenger side exhaust manifold, OR from the cold air snorkel which reaches infront of the radiator.

I had Always assumed this device was ONLY to help the engine run better during warm up, and was useless after full temperature was reached.  I was wrong.

The Engine computer is Expecting this system, to quickly get the the incoming aircharge to 100f, and then Keep it at 100F.
  The engine computer is programmed for this temperature. There is a throttle body temp sensor, and the O2 sensor, and a coolant temp sensor, and all of these affect the air/fuel ratio and spark timing, but all of these are calculated on a predetermined 100F air charge, and that is dependent on the air temp sensor modulating the vaccuum to the blend door which lifts a certain amount to mix in air from manifold or front and from in front of engine.

When max power is needed there is not a lot of vaccuum available and therefor the blend door drops and allows in the coolest possible air for making max power, but steady eddie 65mph there is plenty of vaccuum and max MPG is achieved by best possible air fuel ratio and this is achieved by firing the injectors precisely.

So Before driving from California to Florida a month ago, I found this blend door, whenever the engine was running, was sucking only hot manifold air, even when the engine coolant and oil was at full temperature, in 70F ambient temps.  I disabled it and started driving east, and my MPGS were crap, even considering the elevation changes and headwinds.

The first stop I wedged a fuel hose, lifting the blend  door about 5/8", and the next tank I got over 17mpg, with good tailwinds, but it ran like crap when overnight cold.  I watch the fuel gauge like a hawk and know how many highway miles to expect, and it was easily noticed that the colder it got outside, the faster my fuel gauge needle dropped even with the blend door lifted 5/8" of its ~2.25 inches of travel.

So it was extremely obvious cutting off vacuum to the temp sensor in the air cleaner was detrimental to  my fuel economy and the 5/8" I wedged it open was better, in 65f, but not for 45f.

I bought a Carter TC13 air cleaner temp sensor, even though it ONLY looked to be the same, it was not listed as compatible with my engine.
It appeared identical and took  a minute to swap.

So I took my flap sander on angle grinder and sanded the perimeter of the old sensor and took it apart.
There is a Bimetal leaf spring inside, that pushes a pintle and closes off airflow from a snout inside the aircleaner
When the sensor heats up, the bimetal leaf spring bends and allows filtered air from inside the aircleaner to enter the sensor and this reduces vacuum to the modulator and allows the door to drop, allowing in more cool air from infront of the radiator.

My pintle was stuck.  Even once I freed it up, and let the bimetal spring push it back home, it got stuck there again.
The snout, in which this pintle resides, can be screwed in and out, to modify the temperature where it starts reducing the amount of vacuum reaching the modulator which lifts and lowers the blend door.

So the New Carter TC13 might not be dialed for 100F, but perhaps for 90F or 110F.  
I will Put a K type thermocouple on it.
But I likely could just clean and return the original to function.

Knowing what i know now, from having opened it, I'll assume I could have simply heated up the sensor with a hairdrier and sprayed some silicone lubricant in there and freed up the pintle.  I am not sure if there is/was an Oring at teh base of the pintle, yet.

  Silicone however can do damage to the oxygen sensor, So One would not want to do this with the engine running, as an Inoperable  02 sensor reduces fuel economy by 50%, in my experience.

If there is no Oring, I think one could stick the tube of a can of brake kleen into the single snout on a sensor warmed to above 120f and free up the pintle.

I think it highly likely at 30 years old that this sensor has failed on every vehicle into which it or similar is placed and is negatively affecting highway fuel economy.

I do not know if a carb'd vehicle could be tuned so precisely as to make much of a difference in highway mpg, but these air cleaner temp sensors are on  carb'd vehicles back into the 60's, and seemed to not disappear until the late 90's

   
   
   
   
   

My question for all you who ain't right is does my 1 "Stinkin" badge carry over into the "other" van forum or am I stuck with it here? LOL!!!!

Yesterday midday, I get a text from an unknown number, a NE TX area code saying "no" and nothing more.

I delete it.

Last evening my phone is blowing up with texts from multiple numbers from all over the US.

Many are saying 'who is this, remove me from this chain, I recognize none of these numbers'

A couple posts just start immediately trying to download a picture and I delete immediately before it completes.

Added all the numbers to the spam folder and eventually the texts stopped.

Wonder if this event has anything to do with me recently deleting my Farcebook account, or events in Washington.

Anybody have anything similar happen?

I need some advice. Random advice please.

As I told everybody in my introduction about me attempting to break the Guinness world record for the longest lawnmower ride through every state in the lower 48. Well I added a Avatar which shows me on the lawnmower, I bring this to everyone's attention just to say "I Ain't Right".

So as everyone knows by now, I have a new to me class A motorhome. One of its problems is the previous owner hit a deer and the drivers side headlight assembly is no more. It's a 1994 Damon Challenger 30'. I have went through the lists for salvage yards for RV's to no avail in finding one. Now the big question is has anyone got any suggestions to get me a headlight there so that it is drivable. It is a beautiful motorhome with only minor problems and sure shouldn't be junked because of this as other than that the only thing else needing to be fixed is a few drawers in the bedroom. Here are a couple photos sorry about the quality, but I had to take them through the living room window since I cannot get out to it on my walker!!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OikIfj7H...e=emb_logo

TIMELAPSE  (Slo- Mo)    Video of a Falcon 9 launch just after sunset...with Los Angeles below.
It didn't explode.
the light show was the rocket reaching sunlight and the exhaust plume reflecting it ...............
You can see the jets flying by a bit closer to land .

Bonus launch quickie.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1KLqcAxB4A

The coffee shop was positioned in the greatest of places. Just before the top of the hill between one small town Aldergrove and the larger Langley City. It would later be used as a “location” for many A-list feature films.

But today that future was unknown. Today it was the planning location for the “Next great adventure.” Between the incredible pie and the strong coffee shop coffee was the map: a one to fifty detailed map of the end of BC and the beginning of Alberta.

“More Grizzly bears?” My hiking partner Keith asked looking at the side notations.

“Yeah I’ll bring the pump loaded with the super loud blanks and Dragons Breath rounds. It’ll be fine.”

We poured over the route that would take us North out of Creston into a mountain valley and up to Mount Evans. A ten day or two week hike.

The hours drifted by and our equipment lists got as long as the shadows. The coffee kept coming and just before midnight our plans were complete. We had agreed on our individual load outs and what we needed.

“So we leave Sunday afternoon?” Keith asked as I paid the bill.

“Yeah we’ll be going against the returning traffic, roads will be clear and we can crash in Creston late, pick up last minute frozen grocery stuff and get out of dodge.” I said in response as we left the Hill-top diner.

“Ok, I’ll see you at my place then.” Keith said getting into his lime green Cutlass Sport.

Creston Spring 1983

The sleepy town slowed our departure as very little had opened at the proclaimed 9am. It was nearing half past when the local grocery shop on the far end of town unlocked the front doors to two guys with backpacks stuffed to comical levels.

“Going hiking?” The shop keeper asked. We politely and silently left the stupid question hanging in the air as we dumped the loads by the doors and each grabbed baskets.

Ten minutes later we were out the door and into the Wild.

This area of BC/Alberta is gorgeous and wild. Logged earlier in the century the new growth and lushness stretched as far as you could see or walk in a week. Our route took us through the wet side of the river and into the giant scar that had taken this very river 100 thousand years to make.

We walked in comfortable silence to well into the afternoon passing through verdant river sides to alpine meadows and shale rock slides. We saw deer and evidence of Mountain Lion, bear spoor and were endlessly chided by squirrels.

It seemed the squirrel population had exploded. Each sentry would announce our departure from one territory and entrance into another.

We stopped for lunch and ate a large meal. Our vocal watchtower minders came in for a closer inspection and general foraging. Probing our defenses and picking up scraps. No doubt planning a nightly raid.

“We’re gonna half to hang out packs high with squirrel hats or something. These little fuckers will tear our backs apart.” I said handing Keith another bun loaded with ham and avocado.

“Yeah I got a tin plate like usual but...bush is so dense they are likely to airbourne in and chew away.”

“Yeah, let’s stop early tonight and get it sorted in good light. I don’t want to be carrying a fishnet stockings pack tomorrow.”

We continued up into the forest, gaining elevation. This made the ground more firm under our feet and allowed for a little more milage.

The afternoon chased and the race to evening being won we saw a clearing with a group of trees in the middle and a wide expanse to the next ring of trees. “This looks good.”

“Yeah stretch out two lines from the center and hang packs in the middle. Little bastards can’t parachute in and if we eat the beans tonight with peaches the two extra cans will cover those support lines.” Keith added in agreement.

We got we needed from our packs, and set to keeping our gear squirrel free. The end of our engineering saw the western sky explode in rusts, deep reds, and yellows. The mountains in the distance now blended with the darkening sky.

We had made the decision to sleep under the stars, but still being BC the tent was also erected to our left. We had a small fire going and I was slicing tuna to sear on a flat piece of shale while Keith was mixing Bannok (an Indian bread like biscuit).

“Bannok is done I’ll get our pads and bags set up under the inner circle of trees.” Keith said moving off about 10 yards.

“Ok” I said “I’ll get it going on the fire and grease the rock for the tuna. In my bag roll is a little something special, so don’t break it.”

A few minutes later I heard Keith find the extra.

“Oooh twenty year old Macallens. Yeah baby!”

“Bring it back with you. Starting the tuna.”

The conversation easily moved from topic to topic as we talked about girls, the future, and our final year in school. We had hiked together for years and our system was without distraction. The baked Bannok was consumed and the tuna washed down with scotch better sipped. But being young the delicacies of this were lost in basic hedonistic culinary consumption.

Nights inky black wrapped the world and the stars disappointed. It was not the night for star gazing despite a cloudless sky. Just the vast nothings of a moonless sky. Slightly drunk we retreated to our bags. I checked the shotguns chamber, empty, and safety, on. Pushed the action break and pulled the pump down a little and set it to my side. Now I could pick it up work the pump without messing with anything delicate. Keith turned off his headlamp and we went to bed.

I was woken up later by Keith voice telling me to quit snoring. This was not uncommon. But as I lay awake I heard an odd sound. Whaaanik whannnnick!

“Covey shut the fuck up.” Keith said.

“Wasn’t me” I replied.

“Shit!” Keith said startled. “What the hell is making that sound? It’s been at it for over an hour and driving me crazy.”

“I don’t know. Branches rubbing together in the tree?”

“Nah it’s an animal. I’ve been listening to it.”

“Shit, now I have to pee. Shine your headlamp into the tree and I’ll see if I can see anything while I am taking a piss.” I said grabbing the shotgun, and racking a round into the chamber in a move made popular by the Terminator movie.

The tree tops lit I looked while balancing the chore of going and not dropping the shotgun. Something moved as I went and the slight movement caught Keith’s attention too.

“Something is up there. Probably a horny squirrel orgy. On the second to left hemlock (Keith was studying forestry at this time) you see it?”

I did “Yeah I see it.” Finishing up and zipping safe I continued. “Going to pop off a blank and scare it off.”

I heard Keith say ok and I fired at the little darker bit in the darkness. These sonic boom rounds had lived up to their name in the past but the silence of the night and the acoustics of the place paired with sensitive ears and the effect was like a distraction grenade. BOOM!!!!!!

This was followed by a loud scream from Keith followed by followed by curses.

For a moment I thought something from the gun had impacted him. This was impossible but confusion is a bug bear. Grabbing the end of the barrel I could tell it was intact. I moved toward the Keith and the sweeping headlight. He was still in his bag. On him was a big round pig looking thing. I used the shotgun and tossed the pig off him. It landed and didn’t move.

“Fuck!!” Keith spoke. “Porcupine! You killed a porcupine, and dropped the fucker on me from twenty fucking feet in a tree. You fuck!!”

I could see quills in his chin and hands. “It was a blank!” I replied. “Let’s get the lights on.”

I got the fire going and retrieved my heavy mag light from under my pillow and got water on to boil before returning to Keith.

“Sorry,” Keith said. “I kinda lost my shit there...I didn’t expect someone to yellow brick road me with a fucking quill pig. How bad is it?”

With the big light I could see the quills in his bag and no doubt into his chest. He had loads in his hands and arms and a few in his chin. Having no doubt looked down at what had just landed on his chest. “Take a deep breath. Anything feel broken? Scratchy?”

Keith shook his head. I shone the light on the intruder and it was dead. I rolled it over with the flashlight. No blood.

“No blood” I repeated to Keith.

“Yeah fucker had a jammer and decided to kamakazi me death from above style. Get the leatherman out of my pants and start pulling quills. “

We continued the trip. So to be continued some day.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

If I weren't so damn ladylike, I'd be swearing up am effing storm. I'm in tropical Pecos, TX, and it would seem my transmission has bit the dust. Again. It's been running fine. No slipping, etc. Left McMurdoo Station yesterday, did some errands in town, stopped for lunch along the way. No indication of issues. Plenty of nice pink fluid. Pulled into the Walmart here, off to the side, walked the dog, got back in, had some supper, walked the dog again (maybe 1 1/2-2 hours) started her up to park in the parking lot proper, and no reverse. First responds with resistance.

So, Odessa has three or four transmission repair places, Pecos none that label themselves as such. I'm thinking it's time for a replacement. No more messing around with this GD thing. Thoughts? Anybody know anybody? I'll check in periodically. No sun, and can't go sightseeing to power up the damn batteries.

Snow coming in Sunday, apparently. Wonderful.

Will try for gratitude that Stewie and I are fine and not on the side of the road, shortly. Right now, I am just too damned P.O.ed.

Walking one of our favorite trails in town and Camo goes off into the woods like a bat out of hell and barking bloody murder.....wouldn't come when I call which he never does.  So I go trudging off into the woods following the sound of his voice......looks like he's barking at a skunk and I think "oh no"  Finally get up to him and he's muzzle to muzzle with a porcupine!  Dragged him away and pulled them from his snout and one paw.....second paw had a lot that looked like they were broke off in the joint.  Give my vet a call and they say to bring him by......meanwhile we are a mile into the woods and im thinking it's going to be a long walk to the truck.  But he walked like he didn't have 75 quills in his foot.  Get to the vet and we had to put him under so she could get the ones broken off in his joint.  She made a few small incisions and was able to get the rest out.

He was very woozy after the anesthesia wore off and it was pretty comical all night.  Next morning he was up and ready for his 10am walk like nothing ever happened!  Hopefully no infections take root and all will be normal.  He's on antibiotics for ten days just in case.

40 years in New England with dogs and it's my first porcupine experience.  Hopefully the last!

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