Yes, I have. I once built a fire under the engine of my truck to get it warm enough to start in near-zero weather. This reinforced my understanding that the better way was to find a “current bush” (electrical outlet) and plug in the truck’s engine block heater. This isn’t always possible, so one picks up alternate ways to outsmart Jack Frost.
When the warm weather ended before the haul into Nevada was complete, I knew there was a possibility of having to desert the truck in the hinterlands should an unexpected blizzard show up. My fail-safe, which thankfully, I never had to use, was a couple of bags of charcoal. This, I was sure, could make a no-flames hot spot beneath the truck adequate to warm that huge chunk of cast iron to a suitable starting temperature. (Yes, I was aware of the carbon monoxide danger from the charcoal and was prepared to stay anywhere except inside the truck should I need to use the charcoal.)
The charcoal was replaced with a 5-gallon propane tank and a simple weed burner on the end of a 12-foot hose. I should have got it before.
We got motel accommodations in the Mud Lake/Terreton area of eastern Idaho one winter night. We were able to plug in the trucks, but that left the rooms drafty because the only outlets were inside our rooms. Drafty as in, the door lacked closing by the diameter of an extension cord.
In the morning, all the trucks fired right up. I ended up being the last truck. My truck started running slower and slower until it stopped. My fuel had a megadose of anti-gel, so I ruled out jelled fuel. I grabbed my insulated coveralls, got inside them and crawled under the truck. I took apart the fuel lines, and there was no fuel running out from the tanks. It did flow freely from both tanks once I removed the bottom draw line. I had nothing to heat the fuel line. I thought an ice crystal in the low spot of the fuel line plumbing was the culprit. I took the suspected line out from under the truck and proceeded to beat the frozen pavement with it until I could blow through the line. I reassembled it, and after a couple of false starts, which were expected to get the air out of the fuel lines, the Cummins roared to life and ran strong. A weed burner would have made this debacle a two- or three-minute inconvenience.
Leo pointed out an older truck we met on the road one day and told me that the owner/driver was an old man he knew. Said he once shut down on the roadside because his engine sounded like he had a rod bearing about to go away and make a hole in the engine block as it left.
He got under the truck and drained the oil into the clean buckets he always carried with him. He dropped the oil pan, diagnosed what parts he needed and hitched a ride to the nearest Cummins store. He hitched a ride back with the parts he needed and proceeded to roll in new rod bearings, put it back together and drive on, only losing a long day for the repair.
Just one more load
John Scherer was an excellent heavy truck mechanic. He also ran his own truck. He said he felt his clutch start to give out but had a load on that just had to be delivered the next day. Just to be safe, he took along a new clutch and all the tools he thought he’d need if the truck didn’t make it home.
He made the delivery. He was just starting to pull back on the road when he heard a snap! After this, the engine turned, but the truck would not move. He was blocking a driveway and almost the road. It was about 36ºF outside, and it was starting to rain. He anchored a come-along to the headache rack and used it to suspend the transmission, once he got it loose from the engine, while he installed the new clutch. He said he was wet and cold, and his fingers were numb – plus he was working by feel because he couldn’t see some of the bolts he had to deal with. Then he grinned, and said that it was only 45 minutes from when the truck stopped until he was on his way home.
In 1979, I got my first truck with tubeless tires. I quickly learned that most of the guys at the tire shops at truck stops didn’t know how to mount and dismount a tubeless truck tire. I added the correct tire irons, a tub of Murphy’s soap and a tire patch kit to my never-leave-home-without-it stuff.
I’ve been accused of having enough tools and spare parts on board to build a spare truck.
