For some reason I erroneously believed that gray primer purchased from the hardware store was some sort of miraculous super-coating. Ah, to be young and in love with Rustoleum (we have since broken off our relationship because she just wasn't meeting my needs anymore).
Spray primer over the top of existing rust and dents? Sure! Can't be bothered to remove emblems? Paint around them!
I did install some fancy deluxe side marker lights though. At the same time, deluxe pedal pads with corresponding trim adorned the interior.
Had some fun wheeling it. Got stuck at night while wheeling by myself once. I had to walk back to civilization and call my folks so they could come and pick me up (this was before the widespread use of cellphones).
Those pictures were taken after freeing my Suburban on the next day. I'd managed to wedge a boulder under the front leaf spring shackle and sit the rear end on the edge of a dry creek bed. In that position none of the wheels would get any traction.
Like so:
My dad drove his 1 ton 4x4 crew cab close and used it as an anchor to let us winch the big rock out from under the spring pack. After that I simply drove it out. Funny how obstacles are easier to navigate in the daylight, and with a spotter.
In another incident I sheared that super awesome short TH700-R4 shaft from Advance Adapters clean in two. I had been showing off and revving the engine in front of some friends. Before the RPMs came down low enough I pulled the column shifter into drive. My dad was pretty mad at my abuse, but he mercifully towed me to his shop and pulled the NP205 off. We sent the shaft back to AA and they determined it had had a defect then sent us a new one lickedy split.
Eventually I grew tired of rocking the ¾ primered look and my dad swung a deal with an acquaintance of his that did heavy equipment painting. We would take the Suburban in to have it straightened and properly primed. Before doing so we purchased a replacement passenger side rocker panel and new window seals all around.
This is what happens when you let a 17 year old loose with tools:
I removed all of the glass myself to save on labor costs. The windshield cracked during removal due to my inexperience and not wanting to ask for help. So much for saving some money. While I was at it I replaced the passenger side inner fender for reasons that probably don't need explaining here. I may have replaced the radiator support as well, either that or I was really overzealously stuck in disassembly mode that day. My father and I had done plenty of junkyard scrounging so I had a small collection of replacement parts and trim pieces gathered up, the inner fender being one of them. This was nearly 10 years ago, when 67-72 Chevy trucks were much more plentiful in salvage yards than they are now.
After this I drove it to the body shop. Yes, I drove there on back roads without a grille, no glass, bumpers or license plates either.
To avoid the expense of removing the glass again later when the Suburban would be painted, we had the body guys spray the window frames white while it was in their hands. I was still trying to get a feel for my automotive tastes, and after perusing a number of issues of Sport Truck Magazine had decided to include some tricks from the 2wd street crowd. I requested that our chosen body guys shave the marker lights and emblems as well as fill the holes left by two different sets of rearview mirrors that had found their way onto my Suburban.
A few weeks later we picked it up. I got to feel firsthand the temperature drop while driving past fields that were being irrigated. Also got a few bugs in my hair.
Here's what I got back:
This is what my Suburban looked like after re-installing the glass, trim and bumpers:
We couldn't reuse the original rear bumper because the edge had been pushed forward so far during some previous accident that it no longer fit over the straightened taillight panel. In the meantime I held the license plate up in the back window with duct tape which would lose its adhesivity (aka sticktuitiveness) in the heat of the day and fall off. I got pulled over on my way to Chemistry 1010 once because of it. The officer gave me a warning but then asked me all kinds of questions about the “cool old Suburban, you don't see these much anymore.” He didn't even notice that I hadn't yet attached any rearview mirrors until I pointed it out to him. “Yeah, you should probably take care of that,” he said and let me go on my way.
Most of the parts and weatherstripping came from Chevy Duty, including the repro rocker panel, side mirrors, pedal pads, door lock set and a repro shop manual for future reference. The only parts that didn't hold up well were the plastic “chrome” beads in the rear window weatherstripping. They faded and discolored quite badly. Everything else fit and worked well.
Having done all of this work, it was a little less embarrassing for others to be seen in (I forgot to mention that in High School it had been nominated as an “ugly vehicle of the month” and featured in the school paper). I still used it as my daily transportation. The Suburban had been left outside for at least some of the time during it's stay at the body shop because my CD player never did work right again after that (actually, it didn't work at all for four months, then miraculously came to life only to die mysteriously months later). I guess Kenwoods don't do well sitting uncovered during rainstorms.
That year my part-time job sufficiently paid for fuel, and that was it. Every time I filled that 40 gallon tank at $1.65 a gallon it put a serious dent in my wallet. I ran around with a spare jerry can or two in the back everywhere I went because running out of gas was a regular occurrence, despite the size of my tank. The fuel gauge simply never worked. Replacing the gauge didn't do anything, and it wasn't until years later that I found the bare wire that had kept shorting, either killing my gas gauge or frying the printed gauge circuit. It was the same story with my blower motor. I thought it had fried itself, but years later I found that the cable to actuate it had snapped in two.
Another amusing thing happened during a cold evening on a 50 mile drive. The speedometer started emitting a high pitched squeal and then the needle fell off. My reaction was to quickly pull over and unhooked the speedo cable from the back of the gauge. I could never be bothered to get to the bottom of that particular problem, so it was driven sans speedometer and odometer from then on. I got to be pretty good at knowing my speed based on engine noise (no tachometer either).
The dogs at home knew when I was in the neighborhood because of the rumble from those glasspacks. I was enrolled in my freshman year at college and trying to decide on a major. We also came across a van tilt column and planned to eventually install it in the Suburban.
My dad even bought a '72 4x4 short stepper as a project for himself. Oddly enough, the '72 truck had a '70 front clip and my '70 Suburban had a '72 front clip.
Everything was basically well and good.
Then my grandfather rolled his pickup truck.